L06 Leopard's Prey

by Christine Feehan

  “Do you have secret places you get rocks everywhere you go?” she teased.

  “Of course.” He finished off his coffee. “How about you come rock hunting with me?”

  “I have a show to do tonight at the club, but it isn’t for hours. As long as this doesn’t take too long,” she said.

  There was safety in numbers. Whoever was murdering people caught them alone—at least so far that seemed to be the way. In any case, she didn’t want to go back to the Inn, see her manager or Remy. Playing hooky in the swamp with Arnaud might be the cure.

  “I’ll tell you what, chere, do some climbing with me and I’ll go to your show tonight and buy you dinner.”

  What else did she have to do, but feel sorry for herself? She could spend the day in Arnaud’s company, have a good time and then do her show. Singing always made her feel better.

  “Sounds good to me,” she said and finished off her coffee as well. “But I’m not usin’ that hitch to tie off my rope. I’m using that very strong tree trunk.”

  “You’re such a chicken,” Arnaud protested. “I use the hitch all the time.”

  “I’m not fallin’ into the disgustin’ water,” Bijou said with a small shudder. “Laugh it up, Arnaud, I’m not smellin’ for a month to prove a point. That water has enough germs in it to kill half of Louisiana.”

  “You really are a girl,” he teased. He slapped at his arm. “Damn mosquitoes. How come they aren’t eating you alive?”

  “ ’Cuz I’m a girl, not a mean Frenchman,” Bijou said and folded up her chair. She had no idea why mosquitoes didn’t ever bite her, but even as a child, when everyone else was getting attacked, the insects veered away from her and went after someone else.

  She sent him a smug look. “Louisiana mosquitos know the natives and just go after the tourists, especially hot French tourists.”

  “At least you think I’m hot.” He made a face at her as he put her folding chair in the back of his rented SUV. “Let’s hope your climbing skills haven’t been affected by your sense of humor.”

  She peered over the ledge. “I don’ have any intention of endin’ up in that water. I’ve got my own equipment in the trunk of my car.”

  “A girl after my own heart. If you have a helmet, you might want to use it. The bank is unstable and juts out in places overhead,” he cautioned. “I get debris falling at times.”

  The wind shifted, blowing a slight breeze through the trees. She felt the now familiar itch rising like a wave under her skin and took a deep breath trying to control the need to scratch. For a brief moment, a scent drifted to her and just that quickly was gone. Elusive. She knew it, and yet she hadn’t gotten enough time before the capricious wind changed direction again to identify it. A chill crept down her spine and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

  Bijou swung around, looking slowly. “Arnaud, do you feel as if someone is watchin’ us?”

  Arnaud didn’t snicker or act as if she was crazy. He took her seriously, stepping out from behind the vehicle to inspect the road running along the bayou with a slow, careful perusal. Bijou rubbed at the itch racing up and down her arm. Just that fast the sensation faded, along with the odd feeling they were being watched, leaving her feeling foolish. Whatever strange thing was taking place in her body, was making her moody, edgy and jumpy.

  “I don’t see anything, Bijou,” Arnaud said. “But if you’re worried, we can skip getting the rocks and I can come back another day.”

  “No, that would be silly. We’re already here,” Bijou replied. “I was looking forward to seeing your cache.” She took one more careful look around and drew in a lungful of air. Nothing. She had no idea what had set her off, making her so uncomfortable, but there was nothing to indicate they weren’t alone.

  8

  “YOU don’t want a lot of stretch in your line,” Arnaud cautioned. “Use a static line, maybe ten to twenty meters. I use a Grigri. It’s simple, and I don’t like a fuss when I’m working. I rappel down, work out the rocks I want, put them in my bag and use an ascender coming up. I’ve found my hiking boots are better for this than climbing boots.”

  Arnaud was a serious climber and he’d gone into his serious mode the moment they brought out the gear. He helped her wrap nylon webbing around a live tree that was about ten inches thick. Near the base of the tree, he created friction between the webbing and the tree. Leaving two equal length ends, he tied overhand knots on a bite.

  Bijou handed him two locking carabiners for each end. After finding the middle of the rope, he created two overhands on a bite ten inches apart and attached each to one of the lockers on the webbing.

  “One for each of us,” he said as he tossed the ropes off the edge, leaving them two secure lines to rappel down. “Happy?”

  “Much happier,” Bijou said.

  He took her helmet out of her hand and plunked it on her head. “That’s so you don’t have half the embankment falling on you.”

  Bijou stepped into her harness, laughing as he had to pull the trouser legs of his suit through. “Great climbing pants,” she teased.

  He grinned at her, his eyes laughing. “Keep making fun of me, woman, and you may be alligator fodder after all.”

  Bijou attached the Grigri to her line, near the point where they attached to the webbing on the tree and waited for Arnaud to do the same. Both attached their Grigri to the belay loop on their harness using a locking carabiner, double-checking that they each locked theirs.

  “Let’s do this,” Arnaud said, a hint of excitement in his voice for the first time.

  Bijou realized Arnaud rarely showed emotion. He did laugh occasionally, but she’d never seen him do so with anyone but her and even with her, it had taken a great deal of time before he’d let her in enough to relax around her. He seemed disconnected from people, his passion completely kept for his work, which probably explained why there was no real physical attraction between them. Every sport he chose was dangerous and solitary.

  She nodded, and after going over a safety check, they started to rappel down the slope. Clearly Arnaud had been over the embankment numerous times and was confident. Bijou went far more slowly, taking her time and watching the outcropping above her. The dirt was definitely loose and occasionally rained down in a little burst. Arnaud ignored it as he found a purchase on the slim ledge.

  “There isn’t much room on this ledge,” Bijou pointed out, peering out across the water, half expecting an alligator to be swimming toward her.

  “I’m never here long and so far I’ve never seen evidence of a gator trying to come up on the ledge. It’s too narrow for even a medium-sized one.” Arnaud wrapped the tail of his rope around his leg five times.

  Bijou made a face as she cautiously settled her feet onto the muddy surface. Very carefully she wrapped the tail of her rope around her leg as well, creating a friction backup.

  Now that his hands were free, Arnaud selected a small brush from his tool belt and showed it to her. “I use this to brush aside some of the dirt to check the color of the stone before I remove any. Do you want to try? You have to be very careful not to disturb too much of the embankment.”

  He was offering her the brush, but he sounded reluctant. She realized this was something of great importance to him, not just a lark. She smiled at him, shaking her head. “I’d rather watch you, if you don’ mind. I love watchin’ you create art and this seems similar.”

  She said the right thing, because Arnaud flashed her a genuine smile and crouched down beside her.

  Bijou studied the embankment above them. Small rocks and the root structures of trees seemed to be the only thing holding the crumbling dirt together. Some roots jutted out like gangly, boney arms, moss hanging from them. A few larger rocks were scattered along the wall, but for the most part, the bank seemed nothing but loose dirt.

  She found it impossible not to be a little nervous. Behind were the gator-infested waters and in front of her a tall wall of soil, some of which was already falling
like dust on top of her head and shoulders.

  She cleared her throat. “Arnaud, I have to hand it to you. You’re very dedicated to your art. Couldn’t you have someone else do this for you?”

  He examined the wall approximately three feet from the bottom. Intrigued, she squatted low and peered at the dirt, trying to see what he was looking for.

  “No one else can find exactly what I need for each project. I actually scheduled a visit to the gallery here because I need some of the colors I can get from this little cache. I can get the banded agate, but here . . .” He broke off, using the brush like an archeology tool, exposing the rock beneath. “Here I can find various hues you don’t find very many other places.”

  “I had no idea,” Bijou admitted, finding the entire idea of elegant, sophisticated Arnaud Lefevre, in his thousand-dollar suit, mining for stone in a dangerous, mosquito-infested swamp fascinating. He was totally focused on the task of gently brushing away the dirt to find his hidden treasure. She’d seen him in the studio and he clearly hadn’t even noticed anyone around him, time passing or anything else. He was the same way now, taking the same care with his hunt for the perfect color agate for his sculpture.

  His patient brushing revealed a small vein of pale blue, almost purple and blue-green rocks. He continued brushing away the loose dirt so more colors were exposed.

  Bijou gasped. “Those colors are beautiful.”

  “Even more so when I work with them,” he said almost absently. He took the fork and meticulously began prying the pastel purple rock free. He was careful not to scrape it, digging around the edges to free the small stone.

  “Do you already know what you’re goin’ to use it for?” Bijou asked. “Do you actually have a sculpture in mind?”

  He nodded. “I draw what’s in my head and then figure out which mediums I’m going to use and how best to get what’s in my head to come to life.”

  “Arnaud.” She waited until he turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. “You know you’re a genius, don’ you? No one in the world can do what you do.”

  He studied her face for a long time. “No one ever says the things to me that you do, Bijou, not and really mean them. I can see honesty in your eyes and hear it in your voice. You always have inspired me with your generosity of spirit. Sometimes when I read the tabloids, I find myself getting angry at the way they portray you, and it surprises me. I don’t get angry, or feel much emotion unless I’m creating.”

  Bijou couldn’t help but hear the sincerity in his voice. He wasn’t making a declaration of love—he never did. She could tell he felt great affection for her, as she did him, but something just didn’t quite gel between them, not in a romantic way.

  “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Arnaud. Thank you,” she said. “And yes, the tabloids seem to really enjoy making up an entirely different life for me. There’s one photographer who is the biggest pain in the neck. He loves to follow me around, take pictures when I’m unaware and then make up some ridiculous story behind the photograph.” She sighed. “He’s here in New Orleans and already dogging my every footstep.”

  Arnaud turned back to brushing away dirt from the stones. “Can’t you file a harassment suit? There must be some way to get rid of him.”

  She shrugged. “Someone else would just take his place, and I guess it’s a case of the devil you know. Bob Carson used to live with my father. He was about fourteen or fifteen when I was born. When he moved out of our home, he’d still come over every day to see Bodrie.”

  “So he was your friend and now he hounds you to make money off of you?” Arnaud asked, as he carefully began to pry the small stone free.

  “I wouldn’t say we were ever friends. By the time I was old enough to know who he was, he was takin’ advantage of the women around Bodrie, usin’ drugs and drinkin’. He traveled with Bodrie as his personal photographer and made a huge name for himself in the business. Of course he always made Bodrie look good.”

  Bob Carson had taken her to the hotel the night Remy found her, bringing his friends and drugs and alcohol. She was still embarrassed to be around him. Remy hadn’t recognized that young man he’d beat to a bloody pulp that night—or if he had he hadn’t said anything to her when Bob had photographed him kissing her.

  Arnaud glanced at her over his shoulder as if reading her mind. “He makes you uneasy.” He dropped a purplish stone into his bag.

  She hadn’t meant to reveal so much. “All paparazzi make me uneasy,” she hedged.

  He laughed softly. “The thing is, Bijou, you can’t lie worth a damn. It’s one of the many reasons why you can’t stand the business you’re in. You tell the truth, and when you don’t, you’re embarrassed. I’m your friend. You can tell me he makes you uneasy and it isn’t going to end up in the tabloids. I keep your confidences and your secrets. I always have.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Arnaud. I think I’m so used to being careful about what I say, that it’s habit.” She did feel ashamed. She didn’t see Arnaud often, but when she did, he was always the same. Steady. Calm. Definitely someone who valued his friendship with her and asked for nothing in return. He didn’t seem to care who her father was, or how much money she had. He never changed. “I’m grateful for our friendship.”

  “Me too.”

  Already the moment was over and he was looking at his precious stones, sinking another one inside his bag with almost loving care and turning his attention to his next choice.

  Bijou shook her head. Arnaud was trying, but clearly she wasn’t really there. He was totally absorbed in what he was doing. She watched quietly for a few minutes, admiring his dedication and somewhat fascinated by his complete concentration. He was wholly focused on what he was doing, prying two more rocks free and dropping them carefully in the bag hanging from his tool belt. She had the feeling if an alligator did get curious and rushed at them from the water he wouldn’t notice.

  Without warning a shiver went down her spine. That strange wave beneath her skin rose like an itch that couldn’t be scratched. More, something wild and feral deep inside unfurled, leapt and pushed against her in alarm. She turned toward the water, half expecting a huge alligator to be attacking. Only then was she aware of the silence. The bayous and swamps were never really silent. As a rule, insects droned incessantly and they had suddenly ceased making any noise above their heads.

  Glancing down at her vibrating rope attached to her harness, she touched it lightly, feeling the sudden tension. Instinctively she stepped around Arnaud, her body shielding his, her head down, hands gripping a root overhead. Both ropes slithered down, dropping over the top of them along with a landslide of debris and rock. Small rocks hit her shoulders and back. She dropped one hand onto Arnaud’s shoulder. The ropes slid off the narrow ledge and dropped into the muddy waters, the weight jerking at both of them. She kept herself braced, trying to stay as small as possible while protecting Arnaud.

  The mini landslide subsided and silence reigned once more. Bijou remained still, a little worried that whoever had cut their lines and thrown them over the edge was still above them, prepared to knock more dirt on them. Or worse, had a gun and was going to shoot them. Arnaud stirred and tilted his head to look up at her a bit quizzically. Trust Arnaud to remain calm.

  She pointed above them and laid a finger over her lips, counting in her head while she listened for movement. A few minutes later a trickle of dirt rained down as if someone stood on the edge looking over. Her mouth went dry, her heart pounding. Was the killer above them? He couldn’t get down to them if he was.

  Arnaud wrapped his hand around her ankle and that small gesture of camaraderie steadied her. They were safe. They might be trapped on the small ledge, but whoever was above them couldn’t get to them, even if they couldn’t get back up. Eventually someone would come along and see the cars and think they might be in trouble.

  Another avalanche of rocks and stones came down. She heard muttering, but couldn’t identify whether it w
as a man or a woman above them. A branch snapped. Silence. The SUV started up. Her heart jerked hard. It was definitely Arnaud’s vehicle. Her fingers dug deep into his shoulder. She knew what was coming. Hurriedly she bent down and placed her mouth close against his ear.

  “Stand up and flatten yourself against the bank. He’s goin’ to push the car over the edge down onto us.”

  Arnaud didn’t hesitate. As she stepped back to give him room to stand, he was up instantly with that same unemotional, calm expression. Both pressed themselves tightly against the bank as the motor roared, bursting the silence like a bomb. Arnaud reached out and put his hand over Bijou’s as they both made themselves as small and as thin as possible.

  The earth above them shook. Rocks and debris rained down. A tree crashed into the water, the root structure tearing a hole in the bank. The SUV leapt from the cliff above them to drop front end first straight down into the bayou. The back tires missed them by a breath, seeming to skim down their backs, although neither was actually touched.

  Bijou closed her eyes and tried not to shake. Arnaud didn’t so much as tremble, his nerves like steel. She hadn’t expected that of him. He was so creative, and she associated creativity with emotion—maybe because she was so emotional. Most of her problems over the years in the business she was in had been due to being too emotional. She couldn’t handle the fame. She never liked being in the spotlight, and yet she’d been born into the glare of one and had pursued a career that kept her there.

  Footsteps overhead kept them still. Bijou pressed her lips together tightly and waited, sending up a prayer that whoever was above them didn’t have a gun. There was still her car, and she’d left the keys in the ignition, just as Arnaud had. Whoever the madman was, he swore again and spit into the water as the SUV tilted and slowly began to sink beneath the murky water. He kicked more dirt down onto them, although clearly he couldn’t see them.