“Well, I see why I don’t like him.” Owen scrubbed a hand through his hair. “But you not liking him…” Owen walked toward the house. “That’s a mystery.”
A mystery he wanted to solve. Reggie didn’t take a dislike to people unless he had a good reason. For instance, they smelled like C-4. Owen doubted Reitman did, but he smelled like something that bothered the dog. And that a veterinarian—forensic or not—was so uncomfortable around an animal was troublesome.
Owen caught sight of a police cruiser parked near the collapsed barn on the far side of the house, but no George. He was probably in the house, though why he’d parked way over there was anyone’s guess. Maybe he was taking a leak. There wasn’t a working bathroom for close to a mile.
Owen told Reggie to stay. He could imagine what the dog would do if a stranger came out of the woods and approached the house. Though Reggie had been trained not to bite those in uniform, he’d also been trained not to “fetch” unless he was told to, and he’d fetched the hell out of Reitman.
The smell of death hit Owen just over the threshold. Why hadn’t he smelled it that first night? Then again, he’d smelled death so much in the past ten years he should be more surprised that he had noticed now than that he hadn’t then.
The forensic veterinarian bent over the mess in the living room, poking with a plastic gloved hand at what had been left behind.
“What’s that?” Becca pointed.
Reitman peered closer. “Hard to say.”
“There’s another one here.” Becca moved to the opposite side of the table, leaned in, frowned. “Is that a brand?”
“What kind of brand?” Owen asked.
“Isn’t a brand a brand?” Reitman kept poking and peering.
Ghoul.
“Hot metal pressed against flesh with the purpose of leaving a mark,” Reitman continued.
“For identification,” Owen agreed. “Which means all brands are different, and whatever those are might be important. Might be a clue, a lead, a smoking gun, a neon sign.”
Reitman cast him an annoyed glance. Owen found it interesting that Becca had seen the marks and not the “specialist,” though this was her second view of the crime scene.
“The evidence is too badly burned and decayed to identify much without a microscope. I’ll need to take everything to my lab.” Reitman looked around. “Did the officer show up yet?”
“His car’s here. I’m sure he will be soon.”
“You think if you find out what the brand is, it could point to whoever did this?” Becca asked.
“Could.” The professor had gone back to poking.
Becca lifted her gaze to the five-pointed star on the wall. “Why would someone draw a symbol for a group that harms none directly above so much harm?”
“That isn’t a Wiccan symbol.” Reitman straightened.
“Isn’t it a pentagram?”
“Yes. The Wiccan pentagram is usually drawn with a circle connecting the points. Some call it a pentacle. The Wiccan symbol has an ascendant point.” He jerked his thumb upward. “To represent spirit and the Wiccan belief that spirit is more important than earthly concerns. The four other points on either side and to the bottom represent the four elements—fire, air, water and earth.”
Owen contemplated the five-pointed star on the wall. The single point faced downward not upward. “What is that?”
“Point descendant favors earthly over spirit concerns.” Reitman chewed the inside of his lip. “Satanism.”
Considering what the thing had been drawn over, Owen wasn’t surprised.
“I asked around to see if there’ve been any whispers of kids messing with that.” At Owen’s incredulous glance, she continued. “Black animals. Halloween. Sacrifices. Weird star.” Becca pointed at the wall. “It added up.”
“Then what did you need him for?” Owen wondered. They both ignored him.
“What did you find out?” Reitman asked.
“Nothing.”
“Even if kids were screwing around,” Owen said, “they wouldn’t admit it.”
“No.” Reitman’s gaze returned to the table. “But I don’t think this is kids.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve investigated this kind of thing before.”
“Hence our need for him.” Becca didn’t stick out her tongue, but Owen could tell she wanted to.
“Kids go about things half-assed,” Reitman continued. “Dead animals are one thing. The pentagram, the fire, the brands.” He chewed his lip some more. “This is serious stuff.”
“Someone was trying to raise Satan?” Owen felt like laughing, and then again he didn’t.
“You aren’t going to get Satan with the souls of animals. Most people don’t believe animals have souls.”
“Bullshit,” Owen said.
“I concur.”
Becca’s lips twitched. Owen’s wanted to. The guy had a stick up his butt that he couldn’t quite seem to yank out.
“If you aren’t going to get Satan with this”—Owen waved at the table—“what are you going to get?”
“Practice.”
Becca and Owen exchanged a glance before Becca asked, “Practice for what?”
“People.”