night. I hated to drive all this way and not spend some time with you.”
“Fabulous,” Owen muttered.
I cast him a glance. What did he care?
“Let’s get this over with,” Owen continued. “I’ll drive. Don’t worry about Reggie. He won’t hurt you.”
“He won’t, because I’m not going with you.” Jeremy started for the trees.
While I didn’t think Jeremy had tried to smother me, I also wasn’t keen on walking into the forest where whoever had done so had run. Just because George hadn’t found the culprit, didn’t mean he wasn’t still in there. And Jeremy wouldn’t be much protection at all.
He glanced over his shoulder. “You coming, Becca?”
Owen took my arm. “No.”
“Honestly.” I took my arm back. “Put Reggie in the truck bed. I’ll sit between you two so I don’t have to listen to a litany of ‘he’s touching me’!”
Owen’s lips twitched. “You sound like a kindergarten teacher.”
“I had little brothers and a little sister.” Who’d burned me out on little kids long before puberty. Too bad. If I’d gone into teaching I could have saved myself a shit ton of time and money on college.
While it would have taken ten minutes to walk through the woods, it took less than three to drive to Jeremy’s car. Owen didn’t even argue when I got out too, though he did roll his eyes at the bright yellow Jaguar.
“You know a car like that just shouts small penis?”
I slammed the door and walked away.
* * *
Owen knew he was behaving like the child she’d accused him of being. He couldn’t help it. The guy was annoying.
He became even more so once they got to the house. Owen hadn’t expected anything less. Stupid might be as stupid does, but annoying was the same damn way.
Reitman took one step onto the porch and at the resulting creak stepped off. He eyed the roof, the cracked windows, the rickety railing Deb had kicked into what had once been a flower bed. “This place appears ready to come down on my head.”
“If only,” Owen said.
“How can you live here?” Reitman wrinkled his nose. “I suppose it’s all in what you’re used to.”
“Owen doesn’t live here any more.” Becca took the steps, ignoring the creak and the sway. “If he did, I doubt there’d be animal sacrifices in his living room.” She opened the door and went inside.
“I don’t.” Reitman followed.
Owen glanced at Reggie, who still sat in the bed of the pickup as ordered. “I see why you don’t like him.”
Reggie tilted his head.
“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