TORN by CASEY HILL Page B

the church had to do with anything, when the dead body had been found in the grounds.
    ‘Look up a little,’ Reilly told him.
    Above the statue and the stations, dwarfing them both, was an immense carving depicting a huge gnarled hawthorn tree, its twisting limbs running around the corners, and back out of sight into the recess.
    The screen that separated the nave from the chancel bore a hawthorn leaf motif, and was topped with a hawthorn branch curled into a shepherd's crook instead of a more traditional crucifix. Reilly had the botanical knowledge to pick up on how deeply the image of the hawthorn tree had permeated this place of worship.
    Kennedy let out a long, low whistle. ‘Now I get you. That’s a big tree.’
    ‘Yes it is,’ Henrietta continued giddily. ‘Almost as big as the real one. Come on, I’ll take you to it.’ 
    She started down the aisle, continuing a steady stream of chatter, Reilly and Kennedy in step behind her. ‘Marcus, our groundsman, is out there keeping an eye on the poor soul since Father Byrne found him this earlier morning.’
    Reaching the transept, Henrietta turned right, and then left again, pulling back a gray curtain with ‘Private’ embroidered across it. She then led them through the vestry, which was spartan and smelled of bleach and disinfectant. Jeyes Fluid, to be precise, Reilly’s trusty nose informed her.
    From there, Henrietta opened a side door and took them out into the church’s rear grounds. Reilly immediately spotted the tree the funny little woman had been referring to. 
    The church property backed onto deep woodland, the plot long and deep, and cleared back to well over a hundred yards.
    About two-thirds of the way down, the gentle rolling lawn was interrupted by a large, circular earthwork, in the centre of which grew a huge hawthorn tree. The gnarled and twisted branches of the tree seemed innumerable, and it wasn’t until she had appreciated the sheer majesty of it that Reilly could comprehend how a body could be hidden there in plain sight.
    ‘See him just there?’ said a man nearby, whom Reilly deduced was Marcus, pointing to an inconguous patch of bright orange nestled on the side of the tree facing them. It was a quarter of the way up, located in the twisted confines of the thorny labyrinth. ‘We managed to get a tarpaulin over him before the rain really set in,’ the groundsman continued, ‘but it’s pretty obvious he’s been up there for a while, so it’s definitely not the first shower he’s had to endure.’
    ‘Come on. Let’s get a better look,’ Kennedy said, and they tramped cautiously down through the grass towards the foot of the tree.
    The detective reached up and pulled away the tarpaulin, and even Reilly felt her stomach turn over.
    Thanks to the elements, the body – that of a ma n was in execrable condition. But the first thing she noticed was the teeth. They were clean and white, a pearly parade. The dentalwork stood out as the focal point because it glowed with a bright white light compared to the rest of the corpse, which was naked, gutted and somewhat weathered.
    Reilly had seen enough corpses in her life no longer to be affected or nauseated by them, but what she was seeing now was definitely making her woozy.
    The stomach, colon, intestines and other lower abdominal organs of the victim  appeared to have been torn out of his body, and suspended from the thorny branches that curled overhead. The trauma of this seemed directly reflected in the searing, suffering aspect of his face.
    Even while Reilly gaped aghast at the horrific spectacle, a large crow dropped down from higher up in the canopy and, blithely ignoring the small group standing only a few feet away, began scavenging amongst the dangling innards.
    Reaching into his pocket, the groundsman quickly withdrew a palmful of sand and aimed it up at the bird. 
    ‘No!’ Reilly cried out, aghast. ‘It’s a crime scene, you can’t—’ But it was too late; the