Bloody New Moon part I

On a cold stormy night, a horse gallops under a darkened sky. Thunder sounds in the distance as the rider pulls up to a sudden stop. The horse rears upward opening itself to the night sky, the darkness is torn apart by lightening flashes. The rider jumps off in a frantic hurry. His leather boots splash in the mud. He nearly slips as he breaks into a run. In the shadow of this hellish night, a cabin sits dimly lit.
He runs up to the door, bang bang. His knocks are drowned out by the distant thunder. He bangs on it harder, BANG BANG BANG! The half second of silence is broken by a call, “who the hell is it at this ghastly hour?” BANG BANG BANG!! “Alright already, I coming. Hold your horses,” yells the tired voice.
The door slowly opens, shining a low light on the tired riders wet face. His trench coat drenched in rain, the leather jacket he wore underneath was torn, obviously from a branch he must have hit while riding through these treacherous woodlands.
“Young Michael Carter, what do I owe the pleasure to this rude call during this devilish hour,” sighed the old man.
Michael attempts to catch his breath as he leans over heavily wiping his long raven black hair from his face, “Sir Jacob……the council seeks your immediate attention in town. I have been sent here to escort you back.”
“Can’t this wait till the morning,” sighed Jacob. “It’s raining cats and dogs, not even the devil himself would go out into this storm.” The old man was clearly irritated by this late night calling. But he could tell by the boys face and his willingness to brave this weather that it must have been something very urgent.
Michael stands up straight and tall or about as straight as a young man who had been riding at his pace could stand. Looking at the young Carter, he was easily 5’11. He was the youngest of four boys birthed to the Carter family. He was quite handsome too, very popular amongst the ladies of the town, but on this night, he looked as if he had aged an additional thirty years.
“Sir Jacob” replied Michael. “The council is in dire need of your audience. A young girl, the Thompson daughter, was murdered!”
That last statement made Jacob pause. He remembered the Thompson daughter quite well. She was the only daughter to Mary and Joseph Thompson. They had been trying for nearly thirty years to birth a child. They nearly gave up before the birth of their daughter Sarah. Many thought it to be a Miracle from God as everyone had concluded that it was impossible for Mary to birth any children.
Sarah was on the verge of adulthood. A mere 17 years old, she was two months away form celebrating her eighteenth birthday. She had long golden blonde hair that sat perfect on top of her crisp golden skin. She might not have been as developed as some of the other girls her age, but she drew the attention of many of the boys in town. Even so, she was a terribly shy child. She was sheltered by her parents, being that she was their miracle child. None the less, she was a sweet girl who was loved by all who encountered her. The mere thought of her being murder left a disgusting  knot in Jacob’s stomach.
“Come inside from the rain young Carter,” Jacob offers as he steps to the side with his hand out. “I will change and get my coat and my steed immediately.”
Before long, both men were ready and began riding out into the storm. They moved in a hurried pace to get to the town, stopping for nothing. The horses splashed through the mud, the thunder clapped as if cheering them on. The lightening lights their path on a eerie dark night. Jacob, in such a mad rush, nearly misses the moon or lack there of in the night sky. “No moon in the sky, this is most definitely an unnerving premonition on this darkest of nights.”
The rain falls upon his face as he looks up to the dark sky. If he still had any tears left, he would cry for the broken young lady laying at his feet. For now, the rain drops rolling down his cheek would have to do. He thinks back to the cold dinner sitting alone on his kitchen table. Alone, a feeling he has come to know all to well after his wife died of cancer some ten years ago. Since then, he has just been drowning himself in his work, day in and day out.
His thoughts are interrupted by a shout from one of his men, “Detective Morrison, two horses are approaching from the town gates. I believe Michael has returned.”
Detective Morrison walks towards the two approaching riders. The riders pull up as they near the detective and he begins to greet them, “It has been a long time old friend, your face is a sight for these sore old eyes if there ever was one. And I thank you Mr. Carter for traveling so fast to retrieve our guest here. We won’t be needing you any further tonight. You may return back to your home.”
“Anytime Detective Morrison,” replies Michael. “If you are ever in need of anything, don’t be afraid to come a knocking. And a goodnight to you too Sir Jacob, I pray that you are able to catch the monster that did this to poor Sarah.”
Jacob nods his head to the young Carter. With that, Michael begins to ride off back to his manor pushing his horse to escape the nights down poor. Jacob climbs off of his horse and hands it to one of the young officers standing off to the side. “Take good care of her please, she is my only family after all,” Jacob says with a slight chuckle.
Jacob then turns his attention to the detective. “It’s been a long time John, last time I saw you was at Kathy’s funeral. I’m glad to see you doing well, though it seems you’ve lost quite a bit more hair since I last saw you.”
Detective Morrison gives Jacob a little laugh. “Yes, still trying to hold on to the little bit of hair I have left. Small talk aside though old friend, we have a serious problem here.” Detective Morrison turns to the side and motions over the the body laying covered by the sheet several paces away from them. “Sarah Thompson, her body was discovered by a night watchmen two hours ago. Not a single witness around and no one heard any sort of scream or struggle. It’s not surprising with this storm we are sitting in at this moment. Her hands and feet were bound. She appears to have been strangled as well as stabbed to death. Why the killer would feel the need to choke her to death and then stab her is beyond me. It just adds insult to injury.”
Jacob takes it all in, scratching his bear chin. He then ask, “John, can I take a look at the body please?”
“Yes, no problem,” answers Detective Morrison. The two men walk over the cold body in the rain. Detective Morrison proceeds to squat down and remove the cover off of Sarah Thompson’s corpse. She had not been dead long enough from rigor mortis to set in. Her sunflower yellow dress was stained with spots of blood from where she had been stabbed. Jacob noticed that there were at least no less than fifth-teen stab wounds on the poor girls body.
Jacob bends over to take a closer examination of the girls body. There was clear bruising around the neck where the girl had been strangled. Clear evidence of a violent struggle. The suspect obviously had come from behind Sarah and caught her by surprise. She most likely put up a fight, what little good it did her. He takes a look at the victims bindings. The ropes were thick, then suddenly something catches his eye. Jacob takes a closer look at the rope.
“Did you notice something,” asked Detective Morrison after seeing the look on Jacob’s face. He had seen that look before many times when him an Jacob had worked together on the force those many years ago. Together, there was no case they couldn’t solve, but that was then. With very little to go on and no witnesses, Detective Morrison wasn’t sure how they would solve this one.
“I think I have found something,” says Jacob snapping Detective Morrison from his thoughts. “Take a good look at this rope John, what do you see?”
Detective Morrison takes a good long look at the rope. He bends down to get a closer look at it. After studying it for a few seconds he finally replies, “it just looks like a regular rope to me.”
Jacob looks at his friend and smiles. “The rope is a little thicker than normal rope you might normally buy at the store,” Jacob begins to explain. “Not only that but it is made up of horsehair. This type of rope is very durable, doesn’t rot and can handle heavy loads. It’s most commonly used by cowboys and on sailing ships. Last time I checked, we don’t have any cowboys in this town.”
Detective Morrison’s eyes open wide as he finally got the picture. “Then that leaves the other option then,” answers back Detective Morrison.
“Right and didn’t a ship take up port at the docks several days ago?” ask Jacob. A rope like this could only of came from there and possible a sailor or someone that works in the shipyard.”
“Yes, you’re right. I know exactly where to go to next as well,” says Detective Morrison. “There’s a bar called The Birds Nest. It’s run by Adam Wilson. It’s often populated by sailors from ship’s that dock here. It’s a nest full of drunken fools, smoke and prostitutes looking to make a quick buck off of drunken fools.”
Jacob stands back up and takes one last look at the soaked body of Sarah Thompson and looks back at Detective Morrison. “Well my friend, shall we get going. I surely would like to get out of this weather and more importantly, catch the bastard that did this.”

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