L06 Leopard's Prey Page 24

  The man didn’t look familiar; she knew most of the locals—yet everyone had changed so much in the years she’d been gone—but he smelled familiar. He smelled like the golden leopard from the night before—but not quite.

  “Dion.” Saria stood up, her voice wary. “You didn’t call, what’s wrong?” She wasn’t looking at the man in front of her, but staring past her toward the door. “Where’s your brother? Where’s Robert?”

  The tension in the room went up until Bijou felt as if she was choking on it. Saria was very still, but her hands were curled, almost like claws and her dark brown eyes were now flecked with glittering gold.

  Bijou realized Dion wasn’t the threat, it was the one unseen. The golden leopard was there in the house, close. She moved away from Dion, circling the table to reach the block of knives Saria kept on the counter.

  “Robert’s here, Saria. We’ve come for help. We need Drake.”

  “You didn’t call first,” Saria pointed out. “There’s just bein’ polite. You can’t just walk into my house and expect to be welcome.”

  “We didn’t have time for that,” Dion said brusquely. “Where’s Drake?”

  Bijou’s hand closed over the handle of the knife, but didn’t pull it loose. She stood with her body blocking her actions, just waiting, listening for sounds of the other male.

  “Get out of my house, Dion, before I call my brothers.”

  The tension in the room was definitely escalating. Saria was pregnant and she had to be feeling vulnerable. Bijou hadn’t thought of calling for help. She didn’t have brothers or a family. She should have reached for her cell phone, not the knife. Silently cursing her own stupidity, she let out her breath and let go of the knife.

  “I’m Bijou Breaux,” she introduced herself. “I don’ believe we met, unless it was back when we were still in school.”

  Dion turned cool eyes on her. “Oh, we met, but you were too cool to notice my brother or me.”

  “That’s it,” Saria snarled. “Get the hell out of my house, Dion. Right now. You’re not goin’ to break in to my home uninvited and then be rude to my friends. Get. Out.”

  “Saria, we’ve been friends a long time,” Dion said, “I’m tellin’ you, we need help.”

  “Then act like it instead of bein’ a jackass, Dion,” Saria replied, not backing down an inch. “I expect this behavior from Robert, but not you. One of you has to be reasonable, and you know it isn’t goin’ to be your brother. So tell him to either come in here and sit down at my table and explain to me what’s goin’ on, or both of you get out and wait for my husband.”

  There was such hard authority in Saria’s voice that Bijou could have hugged her. She had that same air of command and confidence that Remy and the rest of the Boudreaux exuded. Clearly she wasn’t intimidated by Dion or his brother.

  “His brother came after me last night in the swamp, Saria,” Bijou advised her. “And he fought with Remy.”

  Dion’s eyes took on a slow glow. “Robert’s pretty beat-up,” he agreed. “He was drunk last night and he did things he shouldn’t have. We need to talk to Drake, or Robert’s goin’ to be in real trouble, Saria. He’s a screwup sometimes, but he has a good heart. I’m askin’ you, as our friend, to help us out.”

  Saria glanced at Bijou. “Remy beat him up? Was it a terrible battle? You must have been horribly frightened.”

  “I was terrified,” Bijou admitted frankly. “I’d never seen anythin’ like that in my life. Or even imagined it.”

  “Bijou was already marked,” Saria said. “No other had a claim on her but Remy. You know the rules as well as Robert. Remy was within his rights to kill Robert last night, but he didn’t. If you’re comin’ here to complain . . .”

  Dion shook his head. “Can I get a cup of coffee?”

  “If you make that fool of a brother come in like a normal person,” Saria said. “Bijou won’t bite him, if that’s what he’s afraid of.”

  Dion raised his voice. “Robert come in here, right now. If we’re goin’ to keep your sorry ass out of jail, you’d better try to get Saria on your side.” He dragged a chair from the table and dropped into it, pressing the heel of his hand against his head.

  “Remy isn’t goin’ to throw Robert in jail because he dared to challenge him for Bijou last night. The fight was between leopards, not humans,” Saria pointed out, going to the cupboard and pulling out two more mugs. She handed them to Bijou, who was closest to the coffeepot.

  The kitchen door pushed inward slowly and Robert slunk in, walking carefully, hunched over, his face swollen and black and blue. He kept his arms in close to his sides as if protecting broken ribs. He didn’t look at either woman, but gratefully took the chair his brother toed around for him.

  “Milk? Sugar?” Bijou asked, feeling a little more solicitous now that she could see Robert wasn’t a real threat. Remy’s leopard had really done injury to him.

  Both men shook their heads. Even when she set the coffee in front of him, Robert still didn’t look up, but appeared more miserable than ever.

  “We really need Drake, Saria. He’s the only one who can prevent Remy from arrestin’ Robert,” Dion said. “We can ask for him to be the judge.”

  “He’s on his way back home,” Saria said, “but it’s goin’ to take some time. So if you want help, you’ve got me and that’s it. Have some brunch and stop being so melodramatic. Tell me what happened and let’s see what we can do. I can call Drake and let him know there’s a problem, and he can figure it out on his way home.”

  Robert stirred, winced and tried to drink from swollen lips. He cleared his throat several times, glancing warily at his brother.

  Dion scowled at him. “Spit it out, Robert, if you’ve got somethin’ to say.”

  “There was one other thin’ I didn’t mention, but you’d better know before Drake gets home.” His guilty gaze flicked to Saria’s face and then moved quickly away.

  Dion stiffened. “What the hell else have you done?” he demanded.

  Robert hunched more. “I was drunk, Dion.”

  He sounded whiny, and Bijou took the chair closest the counter where the knives were. She’d calculated the distance and in her mind practiced drawing the chosen blade over and over until she was certain she could do so smoothly. It was evident that Saria had confidence in herself and that she knew both men very well—she spoke to them in a tone reserved for close friends one could get angry with—but Bijou didn’t trust anyone. Saria was pregnant, and as far as she was concerned, the two men hadn’t left when Saria told them to. She would sit and listen, but she’d be on alert every single moment.

  “I came here last night,” Robert blurted out. “Remy had pissed me off. I was hurt, but not feelin’ it so much because of the drinkin’ . . .”

  “You know we can’t drink,” Dion interrupted, fury gathering in his eyes. “Drake lives here with his wife. He’s the leader of our lair. What were you thinkin’? If Drake had been here, were you plannin’ on challenging him? He’d wipe up the floor with you. You’d already gotten your ass handed to you by Remy, and you were damned lucky you weren’t killed, but challenging Drake is just plain stupidity, especially after the beatin’ you took.”

  Saria stirred as if she might say something, but Dion slammed his coffee cup down on the table and leaned toward his brother. His eyes were all glowing now, cat’s eyes, his temper rising to the surface.

  “You’re not getting’ me killed, Robert. Drake is savin’ this lair. Savin’ all of us, and I’ve had enough of your drinking and your lousy friends and the trouble you’re always in. If you think I’m goin’ to be turning on Drake or defendin’ you to him, you’re dead wrong.”

  Robert kept his head down, portraying an absolutely miserable man, but Bijou wasn’t buying it. He was obviously good at manipulating his brother. Dion felt responsible for him, and Robert was taking his outburst as another lecture, not an absolute vow.

  Saria pushed the warmer containing beignets toward Robert. �
�What did you do here, last night, Robert? Perhaps if you just tell us what happened, we can figure this all out.”

  “I went to her club last night,” Robert said, making it an accusation—a whiny one at that. He jerked his thumb toward Bijou but still didn’t look at her. “She’s still as hoity-toity as she always was. She passed right by me without sayin’ a word.”

  Bijou gave a little sniff. “I’m so like that.”

  Saria coughed, holding her hand over her mouth. Dion glanced at Bijou and then away. Faint color crept up his neck. Bijou wasn’t certain what that was all about. He’d insulted her the moment he’d seen her and yet he refused to look at her for more than a second or two. Each time he did, he looked red and uncomfortable.

  Robert glared at her. “I told my friends I knew you, that you grew up here, but they didn’t believe me. They took bets.”

  “What friends?” Saria asked. “We all grew up in the same lair . . .”

  “Not leopard,” Robert snarled. “I don’ hang out with just leopards like the rest of you. I have a life and lots of other friends.”

  Dion snorted. “They aren’t friends when they’re gettin’ you in trouble all the time, Robert. You get stinkin’ drunk with them and they put you up to all sorts of things.”

  “You’re just jealous because I have friends,” Robert countered. “You think you’re so high and mighty, Dion, but you slave away in that stupid office of yours and you’re jealous because I don’ have to.”

  “You might not work, but you always have money, don’ you, Robert,” Dion accused. “Wherever you’re gettin’ it, you certainly don’ want to admit where it comes from, which means you’re ashamed. You know damn well you shouldn’t be doin’ whatever it is you are.”

  “It’s none of your business,” Robert whined. “I don’ have to tell you how I make my money.”

  Saria heaved a very loud sigh. “Robert, focus. I need to know what you did when you came here last night.”

  Robert ducked his head again, his defiant gaze sliding away quickly. “It was Remy’s fault.” He lifted his head and glared at Bijou. “And hers. They got my leopard riled up and I couldn’t control him last night. First he went after her, and when Remy went so crazy, hitting me from behind when I wasn’t even doin’ anything, my leopard just lost it.”

  “I see. None of this is your responsibility at all,” Saria said.

  Robert didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm in her voice. “No, it isn’t. Look, I did a few drugs with the guys. Nothin’ big, not like heroin, but my brain was a little scrambled. So after the snotty woman lost me the bet and I owed big-time, I drank a little on top of it and that made it difficult to control my leopard. All she had to do was acknowledge me,” he said. “That’s not askin’ so much, is it?”

  “I’m hearin’ a lot of excuses, Robert, but nothin’ I need to hear,” Saria persisted.

  “My leopard wouldn’t calm down and he came here last night and raked a tree and marked the yard up, that’s all.” The confession came out in a hurried rush.

  There was a long silence. Clearly Saria was horrified. Bijou didn’t quite understand why Robert’s deed was so horrible so she remained very quiet, just waiting.

  “You challenged Drake for leadership?” Saria asked, incredulous. “Are you crazy?”

  Robert hastily shook his head. “No. No way. I’m tellin’ you, my leopard was insane with the smell of a female hussy, and she was flirtin’ with me. It wasn’t my fault. You have to tell Drake that. You have to explain about Remy jumpin’ me.”

  “Remy did not jump you,” Bijou snapped, unable to stop herself. “You charged him. I was there, and you can’t exactly pretend you’re innocent when there was an eyewitness.”

  Robert refused to look at her, instead looking to his brother. “She’d lie for Remy. She’d do anythin’ for him. She’s his whore . . .”

  Saria slapped him hard. “Get out of my house now. Dion, get him out of here before I call Drake and tell him the whole sorry story.”

  Robert howled, grabbing his already bruised face. “You can’t throw me out. You can’t. Remy already hates me and he’s goin’ to come in here and accuse me of murder. Last night. I was there. He’ll know I was there and he’ll arrest me just to get me out of his way.” He glared at his brother. “I told Dion everything and he betrayed me. He called it in anonymously, but now everyone will know I was there.”

  13

  REMY stared at the body hanging from the tree there in the swamp. They were very close to Saria’s property, at the very point where he and Bijou had been last night. The murder had to have taken place no more than an hour after they’d passed through the area, if that. He tried to remember if he’d heard or scented anything unusual as he moved closer to the crime scene. His leopard had been concentrating on only one thing—his mate in heat. He hadn’t been the least bit interested in anything else.

  He took two more steps and immediately recognized the man. Ryan Cooper had died hard. He’d been alive when he’d been cut open, the noose tight around his throat, restricting his breathing but not doing its job before the bone harvester had begun carving him up. Remy hadn’t liked Cooper, but no one deserved to die this way.

  It seemed a little surreal that just hours earlier he’d been angry with the man for taunting Bijou and then daring to lay his hands on her and now, not only was he dead, but he’d died so close to where the leopards had been running. Was it really a coincidence?

  “This is ugly,” Gage said. “Really ugly. Cooper was alive for a while.”

  “The altar is, as usual, immaculate, but the blood spatter and pools go everywhere else.” Blood ran in ribbons and streams, all over the ground, soaking into the vegetation and coloring all the grasses a dark red. The ground looked macabre, a hellish nightmare of a stained leaves and dark, twisted branches.

  Remy crouched down and studied the ground. Something was off. He’d been at four similar crime scenes years earlier and Pete Morgan’s murder in the swamp just days earlier. They’d all been identical other than the strange seven-knot string found in the bowl of Pete’s blood. Each crime scene had been immaculate, not a single footprint, no hair or fiber to be found. There were no prints on anything, not the rocks making up the frame of the altar or anywhere else. But . . .

  Remy stiffened. “Gage.” He glanced up at his brother, waited until Gage made his way over and very subtly, covering the gesture, pointed to the smudged, partial print hidden among the leaves.

  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.”