didnât?â Debâs face became crestfallen.
Becca shook her head so hard her hair flew around her like a fiery dervish. âToo ghoulish for me.â
âGhoulish?â the chief repeated. âI love all that CSI stuff.â
âCSI on people is one thing, animals another.â
She had a point. How many books, movies, and television shows portrayed the graphic deaths of animals? Few to none. While a lot of people seemed to be overly okay with human mutilation, torture, and bloody death, they were equally squeamish about the same in regard to animals.
Owen cast a glance at the table, swallowed, and turned away. He could see why.
âVeterinary forensics involves cases of abuse, mutilation, fighting ringsâdogs, roosters.â Becca jabbed a finger at the spectacle that had ruined Owenâs living room. Probably forever. âAnd that. Whatever it is.â
âWhat are we going to do?â Chief Deb asked.
âWe?â Owen repeated. He had no clue about forensicsâhuman, animal, or otherwise.
âI can call the professor,â Becca said. âSee if he has a recommendation.â
Deb hesitated. She probably didnât want to admit the inadequacy of her forceâwho would?âbut in the end what choice did she have?
âThat would be good. Thanks.â
Becca took her phone out of her pocket, touched the screen. âIâve got his number.â
If she hadnât taken the class, then why did she have the professor in her contacts list?
She lifted the phone to indicate upstairs, where the cell signal lived. âIâll give Jeremy a call and be right back.â
If she hadnât taken the class, why was he Jeremy ? If she had taken the class why would he be Jeremy ? Wouldnât he be Professor Whatever?
Owen stood in the hall stewing while Chief Deb poked around the crime scene. He didnât think that was a good idea. Wouldnât it be better to leave it alone until an expert showed up? But she was the cop, not him.
At the sound of footsteps on the staircase, Owen moved into the living room so Becca wouldnât see him hovering in the hall trying to eavesdrop on a conversation he had no prayer of hearing over that distance. He didnât have ears like Reggie.
âHeâs coming himself,â Becca said.
âSwell,â Owen muttered.
âHeâs the best forensic veterinarian in the Midwest.â
âHow many are there?â
âDonât know, donât care. Jeremy will be here in the morning.â
âDoesnât he have a class to teach?â
A coed to boink?
âHeâll cancel.â She waved a hand toward the five-pointed star on the wall. âThe pentagram intrigued him.â
âThatâs a pentagram?â Deb asked, tilting her head right, then left, then right again as she studied it.
âIsnât it?â Becca glanced at Owen.
âMy geometry grades were shit.â Along with the rest of them.
âMine were more like crap, but I think thatâs what they call those. If not, Jeremy should know.â Becca bit her lip, sighed.
Owen knew that look, that sigh. âWhat else?â
âJeremy said that a pentagram is a Wiccan symbol.â
âHe thinks witches did this?â
âNo.â
âYou just saidââ
âA pentagram is a Wiccan symbol, but those who practice Wicca believe that they should harm none.â She pointed at the table. âThatâs pretty harmful.â
âI never thought Iâd see anything like this in Three Harbors,â Owen said.
âNone of us did.â
Silence settled over them.
âWell, letâs move along.â Chief Deb made a shooing gesture.
Becca moved; Owen did not.
âGood night,â Owen said.
The chief blinked. âYou canât stay here.â
âItâs my damn house.â
âItâs a crime scene.â
âNot really.â
âYes,