4
Jack Sandoval stared down at the photographs spread across his desk and rubbed the bridge of his nose. By that point, it was past midnight, and he should have been off shift, but he really didn’t feel like going back to his apartment. Not with something this disturbing staring him in the face.
The symbols were much clearer in the photos than they’d appeared on the walls of Jeff Nichols’ apartment. Ian had done some retouching in Photoshop, it looked like, before he printed out the images for Jack to inspect. Although he didn’t know the individual meanings of all those sigils, Jack could tell now more than ever that they were evil. Tomorrow he’d have to start talking to people in his clan, but for now he was just trying to piece together what had happened, based on the scanty evidence t
