“I shouldn’t drag you into it,” he answered after a long pause.

“You aren’t dragging me anywhere, Ben,” I told him. “If what happened is actually some kind of cult sacrifice, it could mean something bigger than just one homicide. Besides, the fact that you found a Wiccan symbol bothers me just as much as it does you. Like I’ve told you before, our most basic rule is to ‘Harm None’. Even if it has nothing to do with the religion, if I can help you track down whoever did it, then let me.”

Ben ran one hand through his hair and smoothed it back, a gesture I had come to equate with his being lost in thought. I had known this man for more years than I cared to remember and had seen him through good and bad. He was a consummate professional, without a doubt. Still, I knew that all the training and even all the experience in the world could never prepare someone for every scenario he may encounter in this line of work.

I was constantly amazed by my friend’s ability to remain detached and objective in an investigation, but tonight was different. I had never seen him so disturbed by a case. Ever. I could tell from his troubled demeanor that this one must be beyond what even a seasoned veteran considered bad.

“I’ve got some pictures with me,” he finally spoke after what seemed a lifetime. “Do ya’ think you can give me an idea of what some of the stuff might mean?”

“I’ll be happy to give it a try,” I told him.

“You haven’t seen this stuff yet,” he replied. “It’s bad, Rowan.”

“I understand.”

“No you don’t,” he sighed. “When I say bad, I mean it’s fuckin’ sick.”

I had just turned on the overhead light in the dining room and seated myself at the table when Ben returned from his van with his briefcase.