Gage closed his eyes briefly. "Leopard," he mouthed.
Remy nodded and indicated with his chin the few hairs stuck in the blood on a cypress trunk. "One of ours, and I think I know who," he whispered softly. "Damn him for this. It's goin' to cause a huge mess. Every hunter from here to hell and back is goin' to be in the swamp with guns."
"And every missin' animal and strange death will be blamed on the Rougarou. We'll be getting' calls every night from nervous drunks and people alone to go check out their homes for them," Gage added. "Who?"
"Last night, Robert Lanoux challenged me for Bijou. My leopard drove his off and I made certain he'd feel his lesson for the next week or two, but it didn't deter him at all. Later, he showed up at the Inn and left a challenge for Drake for leadership of the lair."
"Is he out of his mind?" Gage asked, disbelief in his voice. "Robert can't take Drake. He's never been great in battle. In fact, I thought Drake had discussed Robert goin' to Borneo to learn a few skills."
"He refused to go," Remy said. "Drake didn't push it, because there was no proof he was doin' anything that could put the lair in harm's way."
"Could he be our killer?" Gage asked. "He was pretty tight with Cooper. They drank a lot together, and Dion suspected they might be runnin' drugs or doing something else illegal because Robert has a lot of money, but wasn't workin'. He questioned Robert about the money and Robert refused to talk to him about it. Dion was pretty worried about what he might have gotten himself into."
"No way is Robert capable of doin' this," Remy disagreed. "He'd puke his guts out. He's still a kid, a stupid one, wantin' to take the easy way out, but he's no murderer. Not like this. Whoever is doin' this is as cold as ice. Robert is a hothead. He would no more plan ahead and have his equipment ready and a way to keep from leavin' evidence behind, like this killer. I don' believe for one minute that Robert did this, but I wouldn't mind arresting his sorry butt and throwin' him in jail for a good long time."
"Leopards don' do well caged," Gage said uneasily.
"Just what that little bastard could use, a good lesson in what could happen if he continues his ways." Remy sighed and looked once more to the ground and the proof that said a leopard had been on the scene. "It does worry me that we can't catch the scent. The killer should be sweatin'."
"The odor of fear is coverin' everything else," Gage pointed out.
"That's part of it," Remy admitted reluctantly, "but it shouldn't completely mask the killer's scent from a leopard. If he isn't leopard, and I see no sign that he is . . ."
"Until now. We can't be certain this wasn't Robert," Gage said. "If you're wrong, then we've got another killer in our lair. Our leopards are definitely dangerous, and when one goes wrong, it can be very bad."
"Iris Mercier was able to mask her scent when she made kills," Remy said. "Every leopard in the lair became aware of it after she was killed. None of these kills feel like leopard, not even this one, but Charisse was still workin' on the product that consumed all scents. She did tell me she was far more careful since her mother had used her work to get away with killin', but it's possible someone managed to get ahold of her experiments."
Gage studied Remy's face. "Your gut is sayin' this isn't leopard."
"I don' believe it is, but Robert's managed to muddy the water. I've got to call Drake and tell him to get back here now. We'll need him when forensics identifies this as leopard fur."
"Obviously planted by the killer," Gage suggested. "Who would ever find a leopard runnin' around here?"
"Drake will have to order everyone not to shift for a while. We can't take any chances with the locals thinkin' the Rougarou is haunting the swamp. The last time two people shot their neighbors, convinced they were shifters," Remy said.
Remy stood up slowly, looking around. "There was obviously a party of some sort right over there." He skirted the crime scene and made his way to the flat spot where beer cans were strewn everywhere. There was an empty tequila bottle as well as a Jack Daniels bottle.
"He must have come here with his friends."
Remy and Gage exchanged a long look.
"Jean and Juste Rousseau," Gage said.
"And also Robert Lanoux," Remy said. "He was here partyin' with the Rousseau brothers and their other friends. At least three others, probably the same ones who sat together at the club."
"Funny how the Rousseau brothers keep turnin' up," Gage said. "I'm likin' this group for the break-ins."
"And they definitely were partyin' with Alan Potier. He was the third victim four years ago. The brothers were with him when they were partyin' behind the school. Potier was a local boy found in the tree just past the football field there, that giant oak tree. He and the Rousseau brothers had been drinkin' under the bleachers that night. They claimed they passed out and when they woke up, Potier was gone. They walked home from the school and never saw Potier alive again."
"You didn't smell a lie?"
Remy shook his head. "They were nervous, but in a murder investigation, most people are. I looked at them for a while, so clearly I wasn't completely convinced--it seemed a little strange to me that they wouldn't notice the body in the tree. The tree was a good distance away from them, but it still seemed unlikely to me that they wouldn't have seen the body. Wouldn't you look around for a friend if you passed out when he was there and then when you woke up, he was gone? At least take a little look around?"
Gage shrugged. "We would, Remy, but we're talkin' about the Rousseau brothers. I don' think they've ever been responsible in their lives. They like stirrin' the pot. And don' ever underestimate them, they have high IQs. I absolutely believe they have a little ring of thieves they control and they case the places and send their crew in to do the actual robberies."
"And the beatin's?" Remy asked.
"It's them. Just like you know this murderer isn't leopard, I know the Rousseau brothers are masterminding the break-ins." Gage studied the body, his face expressionless. Clearly he had to fight to separate himself from the victim. Gage had talked with Ryan Cooper yesterday afternoon. Cooper had been drinking then. The Rousseau brothers hadn't been with him, but his two companions had been sitting in the club with the brothers and Robert.
"Robert's goin' to be worried sick that either Drake or I will kill him. He'll tell Drake whatever Drake wants to know, includin' everything he knows about the robberies if he's involved, and I'm bettin' he is," Remy said in an effort to help distract his brother. "If you can get the Rousseau brothers on that charge, and they have anythin' to do with this, it will buy us time to find evidence against them for the murders."
"Robert's many things, but he's no snitch. And he's got a sense of loyalty when it comes to his friends."
"Too bad he doesn't have the same loyalty to our lair," Remy said. "In any case, if he won't give them up to Drake, I'll get involved, and then he'll be headin' out to Borneo. The lair there will teach him a few needed lessons."
"You're a bloodthirsty man, Remy," Gage said, and then looked down at the ground. "I shouldn't have said that. Not here."
Remy forced himself to look at Ryan Cooper's body hanging from the tree limb. The body looked very much like the others he'd seen. He switched his attention to the altar. The rocks were set precisely with the same meticulous care he recognized. Leaves, and other ornamental rocks and shells were set in a pattern. The strange string of seven knots was set in the bowl of Cooper's blood. The heart was in place. The altar was exact and meticulously perfect. Yet . . .
Something was off. Not the partial leopard print. Not the fur. Something about the crime scene was just wrong. But what? Remy frowned as he paced first one way and then the other, studying it from all angles. He held up his hand for silence. All motion and whispered chatter from the others stopped. Even the medical examiner stepped back. They'd worked with Remy and trusted him implicitly. That was a good feeling, but at times like now, an added pressure.
He just knew something didn't quite fit. He inhaled, trying not
to choke on the terrible scent of sheer terror and the overwhelming stench of blood and death. His gaze continually strayed back to the body. It was there. He was missing something important, and it was there on Ryan Cooper's torn body.
He took several steps back, circled and came back. Each time he attempted to examine the altar, his attention was pulled back to the body. It was there. It had to be, but . . . Remy stepped even closer, peering at the wounds.
"Look at his neck and throat, Gage, tell me what you see? The way the bones were taken so carefully. Try not to see Cooper, just the way he was killed."
Gage shook his head, but he stepped up close. The medical examiner, Dr. Louis LeBrun, moved closer as well.
"He's finally made his first mistake," Remy said. "He got a little careless."
LeBrun and Gage looked at each other, both looking blank.
"Remy," LeBrun said, "there's nothin' careless about this man's work. He's absolutely meticulous. He could be a surgeon the way he removes those bones."
"Yes, but he carves the victims up without a single thought, like they aren't human. He doesn't care what kills them. He doesn't even notice. He's never noticed. The victim is his donor and nothing more to him. I never got the feeling he knew the person or even that he recognized his victim had a family or a life. The murder itself was messy and unorganized. Only the harvesting of the bones matters to him, so he's meticulous about that. I doubt that ordinarily he notices when or even if his victim dies."
The medical examiner swung around and stared at the body. "The killer was much more careful at first not to hit a major artery. He didn't slash him up or rip him open like he always has in the past. Look here on his neck and throat. The rope burns are numerous, as if our killer tightened just enough to hold him still and then released him when he was too close to death."
Remy nodded. "He made it personal. He knew Ryan Cooper."
"I'll have the boys pick up the Rousseau brothers and have them taken to your headquarters, Remy, so you can interrogate them."
"Make certain to keep them comfortable," Remy said. "We don' want them to think we suspect them of the murders. We want them thinkin' we just want to question them because they were one of the last to see him alive."
"And Robert?"
Remy shook his head. "We'll wait for Drake and then question him. Bring in Tom Berlander and Brent Underwood as well, but put them all in separate rooms. I don' want them comin' up with the same story. I'm bettin' they partied last night in the swamp with Cooper and the Rousseau brothers."
"Are you goin' to find Robert?" Gage asked.
Remy nodded. "I'll keep him under wraps until Drake gets back. I don' want him tryin' to take off, not after finding he was here at the crime scene and he didn't even call it in."
"We're tryin' to find out who did," Gage said.
"Probably Dion. Robert would have gone runnin' for his brother to fix his mess. That's what he's always done."
"He's gotten so much worse since Saria married Drake," Gage pointed out. "I'm bettin' he thought he'd someday wind up with her."
Remy's hand closed over his gun, almost a reflex action. He didn't even realize he'd done it until he felt the familiar butt of his gun in his palm. "Over my dead body. That boy has a lot of growin' to do before he can be with one of our women."
Gage hesitated, and then he spoke in a rush. "You've got to make certain that these killin's aren't in any way connected to Bijou."
Remy scowled at his brother. "What the hell are you talkin' about? Bijou was with me last night. There is no possible way . . ."
Gage held up his hand to cut off his brother's rising temper. "Damn, Remy, sometimes you're as mean as a damned snake. I don' think Bijou killed anyone, but she was there at the first scene with Saria and now this one. You just have to make certain there's no connection."
"There was no connection to the first four murders four years ago," Remy snapped.
"Don' bite my head off, Remy. She was in New Orleans four years ago. She came back for her father's funeral. I'm just sayin' you're too close to this with her and aren't considerin' even the remote possibility. Just to be safe. Maybe she knew the other victims."
Remy sighed. He detested that Gage was right. He couldn't ignore any possibility, no matter how crazy it sounded. "Maybe, but she would have said."
"Four years ago, she wasn't thinkin' about murder, Remy. And she hightailed it out of here the moment she buried her father. She might not have even known there was a murderer carvin' people up."
Remy nodded. He didn't want to question Bijou about the murders or any of the victims. He'd already blown it with her so many times he was afraid if he kept making mistakes with her, she'd get it in her head to take off. She had enough money to go anywhere in the world and if she wanted to disappear, he had no doubt that she could make it happen.
"It's a long shot, but I'll ask. Right now, let's concentrate on the Rousseau brothers and their friends. I'd also like to know the whereabouts of Rob Butterfield, her manager, and his little enforcer friend Jason Durang last night. If they don' have a good alibi, I'll be wantin' to talk to them as well. And, Gage . . ." Remy waited until his brother turned back to face him. "If they alibi each other, and no one else can corroborate, that doesn't count as a decent alibi."
Gage sighed. "I was hopin' this would never happen again. Especially on our turf."
"I'm with you there, Gage," Remy admitted. "This is one sick man. I thought it was bad enough when his victims were nothin' but meat to him, but he stayed cold as ice, even through the butcherin' of Cooper alive. Nothin' else changed. His hands weren't shakin'. He didn't leave prints or any other evidence behind. But he knew Cooper. And he had some kind of grudge against him."
"Or maybe Cooper decided he didn't like bein' told to break into old folks' homes and beat them up. Maybe he'd had enough and was goin' to start talkin' to us," Gage suggested.
"Or he was drunk and was talkin' smack," Remy said. "That's more likely. If you're right about the Rousseau brothers, they'd take action."
"Or kill him for kicks," Gage suggested.
LeBrun shook his head. "This wasn't for kicks. Whoever carves those bones wasn't doin' it for the fun of it."
"Is there a possibility that there are two of them?" Remy asked LeBrun. He respected the man. Louis LeBrun wasn't leopard, but he was very good at his job and he didn't miss much.
"Of course," LeBrun said, "but whoever harvested the bones is an expert. It has to be the same man every time. One could be doin' the hangin' while the other does the carvin', but believe me, Remy, the carver is the same every single time. There's no mistakin' his work."
"The murder itself is messy and careless," Remy said, "but the harvester is meticulous. If you look at that altar, I'd have to say the same man put that together, payin' special attention to every detail. There's never one single drop of blood on his altar other than the bowl of blood provided by his victim, and if you look at the bowl, that's not even messy."
LeBrun nodded. "I don' know how you're goin' to solve this one, Remy." He swept his hand toward the body. "With all this every time he kills, you'd think he'd leave some forensic evidence behind, but the crime scene, in spite of the blood everywhere, is pristine, isn't it?"
Remy steadfastly refused to look down at the partial leopard print. Forensics would find it, that and the fur, but he preferred not to help them. He and Drake needed time to warn the leopard community and get damage control underway before the news broke. He would suggest the fur and print were easy enough to fake, and clearly no animal had committed such a crime, not even the legendary Rougarou.
"Call me the minute you have anythin' at all for me," Remy instructed LeBrun. "I'm headin' back to the station."
LeBrun nodded, and Remy abruptly turned away. Gage fell into step beside him as he made his way to the sheriff's boat. The moment he was in range to use his cell phone, Remy called Drake and told him everything that had transpired.
"Drake's already on his way
back. Robert and Dion are at the Inn with Saria and Bijou," Remy told Gage. "I don' like that one little bit. I can't get back there to protect Bijou, and neither can you."
Gage grinned at him. "I get your meanin'. The Lanoux boys are about to meet up with Lojos, Dash and Mahieu. They'll be enjoyin' their time with our brothers while we take care of business."
"You know Saria won' like it," Remy said.
"Which is why you're makin' me make the call," Gage guessed. "But that's all right. I figure a man should be in trouble with only one woman at a time. From the way you're tiptoein' around I'd say your lady was truly aggravated with you. And probably for good reason."
"Why would you say that?" Remy demanded.
"Because you're smooth with all the ladies you don' care about and a bit of a jackass with the ones you do care about."
Remy glared at him, although he had a suspicion Gage's observation might have some truth to it. "I'm smooth."
Gage snorted. "You're an idiot, and I say that with love in my heart." Dramatically he placed his hand over his heart, his eyes laughing at his brother.
"I've got a gun," Remy reminded. "You're pushin' the borders of my leopard's ability to rein in his temper."
"You blame that poor leopard for everythin'. You're the one with the foul temper. Is that what happened? Did you manage to lose your temper and yell at that poor woman?"
"No, I didn't yell at her. Although I thought about it. She could make Mother Teresa angry."
Gage snorted again. "You're so clueless, bro. Seriously. You've got the catch of the century and leave it up to you to blow it."
"You're the one who said she'd leave." Just the thought of Bijou leaving him, let alone saying the words aloud, sent a stabbing pain through the region of his heart. He knew his brother was teasing him, probably crowing because Remy had always attracted women easily and Bijou wasn't quite the easy conquest he'd expected. More, he hadn't expected to be consumed by her. He couldn't stop thinking about her. She was there with every breath he drew and the moment he scented lavender, his body reacted with urgent, hot demand.
"Her leopard won' let her run too far and you know it. She might try, and if she's smart, she'll definitely give you a run for your money . . ."
Leopard's Prey Page 24
