“Calling isn’t okaying.”
“I don’t have the okay?”
“You do,” George said. “But what if the chief had said no? It’s not like you could put it back the way it was.”
“I could. I took a photo and I’m sure someone here did too.” Reitman set the final bag on the ground next to the others. “But the FBI uses me, why wouldn’t you? I work at the UW, which has ridiculously well-funded lab facilities. If it didn’t, I wouldn’t still be there. I’m the best forensic veterinarian in the state. Probably in the Midwest. Ask Becca.”
George glanced at Becca, who nodded.
“I was trying to be polite by asking, but the okay for me to take the evidence was a given. Why waste time?”
George blew air out his nose, sounding like the Carstairses’ prize bull on his way to a pawing, charging tantrum. Owen knew the feeling. Reitman was beyond annoying.
“You’d better be as good as you think you are,” Owen said.
“I am.” Reitman turned his gaze to Becca. “I’m not going to be able to stay like I planned.” He motioned to the plastic bags. “This shouldn’t sit in my trunk overnight. I’ll head back now and get right on it.”
“I understand.” Becca moved forward as Reitman drew off his plastic gloves and tossed them onto the now empty table like a surgeon who knew the peons would be cleaning up after him later.
Owen turned away. He wasn’t going to watch them say good-bye. There’d be hugging and kissing. He just knew it.
He found it odd that Reitman had planned to stay in the first place. The man had known he was coming here to examine animal sacrifices. Had he thought the scene would be so cut-and-dry that no further forensics would be needed? Or maybe so messed up further forensics would be inconclusive? Owen should be happy that Reitman believed there was evidence still to be had.
He was, but he was even gladder the guy was going. Not just because he was a pain in the ass, but he obviously knew Becca a lot better than she’d let on. They didn’t seem to be romantically involved, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be. Hell, shouldn’t be. They were an ideal couple. They’d have perfect, pretty children, with brilliant brains. In the evenings they could sit around drinking fancy wine and discussing their common interests. Her dad would be in heaven if she married that dick.
“I’ll let you know if I find anything,” Reitman said.
Owen turned, relieved that the two weren’t locked in each other’s arms. If they had been, it hadn’t been for long.
“No you won’t.” George jabbed a finger at the bags clutched in Reitman’s hands. “That’s evidence. This is a case. You’ll let the chief know, then she’ll decide who else gets to hear it afterward, if anyone.” He shuffled his feet. “Sorry, Becca. Owen. But that’s just the way it is.”
Reitman looked as if he’d sucked on a lime, lips disappearing into his prissy facial hair before he left without another word. Owen’s mom’s shouts increased in volume at the sight of him, though Owen couldn’t understand a word she was saying. George headed for the door.
“I can clean this up, right?” Owen asked.
“You need to wait for an all clear from Chief Deb.” The officer paused. “You should probably leave now too.”
“Swell,” Owen muttered, gaze on the ick.
“We won’t touch anything,” Becca said. “You go ahead. We’re right behind you.” She lifted her hand, palm up. “Promise.”
As the bangs and shouts from his squad car continued unabated, George fled. A door slammed, an engine growled, tires crunched, then blessed silence.
“I’m not going to be able to clean this place up, put it on the market, and boogie, am I?”
“Do you really want to leave now?”
“I want to leave yesterday.” Before he’d kissed her and remembered how much he missed it. Before she’d told him she didn’t want to see him any more while he was here. He’d deserved that, but still, it had hurt.
“Your mother needs you.”
“Did my mother even say my name? Ask how I was? Wonder why I was here? She doesn’t remember me, which means she doesn’t need me.” She never had. All she’d ever needed was a bottle, a needle, a snort, or a pill.
“I doubt she’s forgotten she has a son.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re just going to leave without finding out why she escaped, what that whole ‘die, witch’ thing was about?”
“No.” He might want to, but he couldn’t. “According to her caseworker, Mom’s escaped three times, and they have no idea how.”
“That’s crazy.”
“What isn’t?” Owen waved at the pentagram. “It’s a damn horror show.”
Reggie kept looking back and forth between the two of them, as if following the conversation. Owen rubbed the dog’s head and received a lick on his wrist in return.