“Hey, Ben,” I blurted, just as he was about to take a step. “Before you go can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” he said, stopping and turning back to face me.

The question I had for him was one I wasn’t so sure he was going to want to answer-for several reasons, not the least of which could be where it might lead. I started to ask it anyway, but then hesitated as my mind flashed on the still fresh memories of the recent investigation-in particular, a victim Annalise Devereaux had literally trampled to death, using his prurient fetish as a vehicle for his demise and in the process, her own twisted gratification. My query was directly related to something she had done with that victim’s blood, and it was weighing on me heavily. In fact, it had been ever since I’d seen it.

Obviously, my pause was longer than I imagined because Ben furrowed his brow and looked at me with worry in his eyes as he gave me a verbal nudge. “What’s wrong, Row?”

“Sorry…” I told him, then let out a heavy sigh and asked, “Remember when we were at the scene of the Lewis homicide?”

“Yeah, I may be on the downhill slide ta’ fifty but I ain’t senile yet. That was just a few days ago, white man.”

“So then I’m sure you remember the piece of spellwork Annalise did in the kitchen with the blood and the cloves, right?”

“Well yeah… It was the reason I took ya’ there ta’ begin with.”

“Exactly. Do you know if anyone ever found the bottle or jar that she used?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard. But I’m on suspension, so I don’t exactly get daily reports. Why?”

“Dammit,” I muttered. I had been afraid that was going to be the case, and I knew it meant I would have to ask a different question he wouldn’t be nearly as quick to answer. I sucked in a breath and blurted it out anyway. “Okay, then is there any chance you can tell me where Annalise is right now?”