“This might be an isolated incident,” I stood in front and told the assembled group a few minutes later. “But I'm not going to assume it is. The more we understand, the more prepared we'll be if this happens again. It might not be an isolated incident.” I figured some of the more jaded homicide detectives wouldn't agree; they'd be thinking I'd worked one too many serial cases. I didn't much care what they thought at that point.

    For the first fifteen minutes or so, I ran through the primary facts of the case for those who hadn't been there the night before. Then I turned it over to Paula. She bounced up and talked us through the photos on the wall.

    “The cutting styles indicate a variety of weapons, strength, and ability,” she said, using a red laser pointer to highlight the slashes, punctures, and severing that had been done to the Cox family.

    “At least one blade had a serrated edge. One was unusually large-possibly a machete. The amputations, wherever they occurred, were never done cleanly. Rather, they were the result of repetitive trauma.”

    A detective named Monk Jeffries asked a pretty good question from the front row. “You think they were practicing? Had never done this before?”

    “I couldn't say,” Paula told him. “Wouldn't surprise me.”

    “Yeah,” I put in. “It's like they were practicing, Monk.” I had my own opinion about the murders. “There's something very young about this crime scene.”

    “As in inexperienced?” Jeffries asked.

    “No. Just young. I'm talking about the cutting, the broken bed, the vandalism in general. Also the fact that this was probably done by a group of five or more. That's a big group of intruders. When I intersect all those factors, I get a few possibilities: gang, cult, OC. In that order.”