L06 Leopard's Prey

by Christine Feehan

  Butterfield probably had been paying Bob Carson to keep feeding the tabloids. He had no way of knowing Carson would have done it anyway.

  “After you went back to the studio to work, were you aware Carson followed you?”

  That got the Frenchman’s attention for all of two seconds. Or maybe he just scowled and looked up because Remy wasn’t giving him the focused stare he wanted to draw so badly.

  “No. Why would he do that? All I did was work last night. All night. A complete waste of time.” Arnaud sighed in frustration.

  “He was writing an article about Bijou’s love triangle.”

  “She doesn’t have a love triangle,” Arnaud said. “Turn your head a little more. Stop. Hold it right there. I think that’s it.” He tore off another piece of paper and began again.

  “He meant you, Bijou and me,” Remy said. “You didn’t see him lurking around? Or anyone following him, maybe across the street?”

  For the first time Arnaud lowered his pencil and really looked at Remy. Remy was struck by the fact that he seemed to notice Remy as more than a pair of cat’s eyes he was trying to draw.

  “That’s completely absurd.”

  “Of course it is, but Carson specialized in seedy headlines. He took photographs of your work with a zoom lens and was going to publish it in a tabloid, stating you were in love with me and Bijou was in love with both of us.”

  “He can’t do a thing like that. Publishing a sketch of mine that isn’t right, that I haven’t finished, would be unthinkable,” Arnaud protested. “I have a reputation, but more than that, I only show my best work—work I’m proud of. Those sketches last night were all wrong.”

  “He’s dead, Arnaud,” Remy said as gently as he could through gritted teeth. “He won’t be publishing photographs anymore. I’m looking for the man or men who may have abducted him, took him out to the swamp and then murdered him.”

  “At least he’s giving back to the planet and doing something constructive rather than hurting people like Bijou,” Arnaud said pragmatically. “He wasn’t a very good man, was he?”

  Remy sighed. “I suppose not. But even men who aren’t worth much need someone to stand for them.”

  “This isn’t working. Let’s try something else,” Arnaud said, ignoring, or not hearing Remy’s comment. “Will you allow me to put your head in the position I need you to be in?”

  “I don’t have very much more time,” Remy said, glancing at his watch again.

  “Just give me a couple more minutes,” Arnaud pleaded. “I know I can do this.” He jumped up, but it wasn’t jumping so much as gliding. He was very graceful, a man who under any circumstances, even when he was at his most frustrated, still seemed elegant.

  He hurried around Remy and caught his chin, his touch almost gentle as he turned his head. The moment Arnaud put his fingers against Remy’s skin, Remy’s leopard raked and snarled, forcing Remy to breathe deep to keep control. He glanced down at the floor, at Arnaud’s beautifully polished immaculate dress shoes. Bits of grass and mud stuck, not to the shoes, but to one hem of his trousers. He registered the information and alarm spread. As he started to turn to face the threat, Remy felt a sting in his neck.

  His leopard tried to protect him, leaping for the surface, a wave of fur moving under his skin, but the ketamine was fast acting on both of them.

  * * *

  BIJOU stood outside the Inn with Saria, admiring the full moon. “It sure is beautiful here, Saria. What a wonderful weddin’ gift Miss Pauline gave you. The location couldn’t be more perfect.”

  “Especially for a leopard,” Saria agreed. “Miss Pauline was always in love with Amos Jeanmard. When his wife died, he married Miss Pauline, and she gave me the Inn.”

  “I remember him. We used to have to hide from him when we were sneakin’ into the swamp at night.”

  “He’s leopard. He was leader of the lair, but he claimed he got old and tired. Miss Pauline’s leopard never emerged and he didn’t marry her when they were young because he thought it would be best for the lair if only leopards mated. I think the real reason he gave up leadership was so he felt he was free to marry Miss Pauline.”

  Bijou leaned against Saria’s car. Hers was going to need a lot of work before she could drive it—if she could make herself get into it after the things Carson had done to it. “If my leopard hadn’t emerged, do you think Remy would have walked away?”

  Saria frowned at her. “I always forget you lack self-confidence, which is insane when it comes to my brother. He’s head over heels for you. Believe me, I’ve never seen him act like such a goofball.”

  “Remy is never a goofball,” Bijou said. She looked up at the sky again, at the stars. “I’d forgotten how to be happy until I came back here. Which is rather awful to say when all these murders are going on. I don’ know how Remy does it every day.”

  “He’s good at his job and he’s passionate about it. Remy lives life to the fullest. Now that he has you, I won’t worry so much about him,” Saria said. “He can be so serious, and that leopard of his is so difficult.”

  “Are you afraid of your leopard?” Bijou asked, crossing her arms across her chest. “Because I’ll admit, I find the entire idea of being a shifter very scary. What if I can’t control her when she’s out?”

  “I felt that way at first as well,” Saria admitted. “You have Remy, and he’ll guide you through it. There are seven main families that live in the swamps and bayous that date back to the first settlers. They did intermarry with others who weren’t leopard, but if they have one of the seven last names, you can pretty much bet, they’re one of us. The thing is, Bijou, we’re a small community so we’re intensely loyal to one another. We have to be.”

  “Like Robert?”

  “I don’ know what happened to Robert. He was such a sweet boy when he was younger. Drake is goin’ to send him to Borneo to some friends of his. It’s that, or he has to follow up with his challenge for leadership and he won’t survive. Drake is givin’ him a chance, but if Robert refuses to take it, our world can be quite violent, but it has to be.” Saria studied Bijou’s face.

  “I know you all grew up with Robert, but the things he did, the people who were hurt and he could have stopped it, don’ you think he should at least spend time in jail?”

  “A leopard can’t be locked up for long, Bijou,” Saria explained.

  “Still, it feels like everyone else gets punished, but he’s goin’ to be vacationing in Borneo. How is that teaching him a lesson?”

  “Drake is from Borneo,” Saria said. “The men there rescue victims of kidnappers. It’s dangerous and hard work. We live in civilization here. They live in the rain forest. They won’t tolerate mistakes. Punishments there are brutal and fast. Robert isn’t going on any picnic. He’ll either grow up and become a decent man, or won’t survive.”

  Bijou shook her head. “I don’ know how you accepted all this so easily, Saria. It’s a real struggle for me. Sometimes I think it’s all a dream, or maybe I’ve gone a little insane.”

  “But you are a shifter, Bijou and you belong in our world. Do you understand? Because you can’t run from who you are.”

  “Your brothers think I’m goin’ to get bored or scared and leave here, don’t they?” Bijou asked.

  “I don’t know what they think. I know better,” Saria said. “We’re your family. You never had one, and you always wanted one. I think you’ll be more loyal and more protective than anyone else.” She laughed softly. “With the exception of Remy. No one can be more protective than my big brother.”

  Bijou glanced at her watch. “Speaking of, if I don’ leave soon, I’ll be late for our dinner. He had something important he wanted to talk to me about.”

  “I should have known you were goin’ somewhere with him. You look . . . radiant.”

  Bijou flashed a smile at Saria. “I do rather like that man.”

  “I would never have guessed. I suppose Remy’s locked up just about everyone he can that
he thinks might be a threat to you, so it must be safe enough.”

  “That’s what he said. I’m meetin’ him at the station house. We’ll probably be home early though. He needs to get to bed.” Bijou found herself blushing when Saria burst out laughing.

  Saria sobered. “You know, Bijou, Remy’s always going to be a cop.”

  “I know. But he’ll be my cop.”

  Saria touched her teeth to her bottom lip. “A lot of women start out thinking it’s cool to be with a cop, but the reality of that world gets to them after a while. Do you think you can handle it long term? Remy is very good at what he does and, although if you really were upset I think he’d stop, he wouldn’t be happy.”

  “I’m proud of who he is, Saria, and what he does. I’m going to make a success of the club and make certain he can be just as proud of me.” Her eyes met Saria’s. “Your brother really is safe with me.”

  Saria’s answering smile was serene. “I know that, I just wanted to make certain you knew it as well. Have fun tonight, although,” she added mischievously, “whenever my big brother wanted to talk to me about somethin’, I was usually in trouble.”

  Laughing, Bijou hurried to the car with a wave of her hand. Saria and her brothers definitely enjoyed teasing one another and they already had begun to include her in the warmth of their circle. She had come home looking for her white knight and she’d found him. Remy was everything she remembered and more.

  She would never forget his face, the way he yanked her out of the hotel room and shook the living daylights out of her. He’d cared. He’d been alarmed. That had been the moment she realized much more would have gone on in that room than her simply overdosing. She saw it in his eyes. In the expression on his face. He’d been horrified and he’d been angry. She would never forget his eyes as long as she lived.

  Everything about Remy was beautiful to her, even his famous temper. He would always be a cop, but he would be her cop and she knew she could live with that. She had a home and a family and Remy had given both to her. There was no way to describe to someone else how much she loved him. The intensity of her emotions when she was around him sometimes overwhelmed her.

  She drove carefully in Saria’s car. She loved fast cars and often went to racetracks and drove. She’d never mentioned that little secret to Remy, or the fact that she owned more than one high performance car. He’d never asked her much about her life and he was in for a few surprises. She did like to live simply, but that didn’t mean she didn’t like nice things—or really fast cars.

  Laughing at the thought of his pained expression when she told him, she pulled up to the police station. At night it looked different. Somber. Even haunted. During the day people were in and out, but at night there was only a single valiant light over the door and the place appeared to be deserted.

  As she walked up the stairs to the station door, she glanced around her. Night had closed in completely and fog had drifted in. Lights from street and stores appeared dull yellow halos, unable to penetrate the gathering fog. She shivered and rubbed her arms. That other inside of her was restless and she could tell the female leopard’s mood was affecting her as well. She told herself she was too imaginative and the fog and deserted streets were making her edgy.

  Much more sober, she walked through the station, heading back toward Remy’s office. There were only a couple of people working and they looked up and waved. She lifted a hand as she went through to the homicide bull pen. Remy didn’t appear to be in his office. She glanced at her watch. She was a little late. Had he left her? Forgot? That wasn’t his style.

  Her mouth felt dry and her heart beat too fast. The other pushed at her, wanting her freedom. Bijou was too new in the ways of leopard to know what to do to settle her down. She took several deep breaths and prayed Remy would hurry up.

  A woman came around the corner, both hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. She smiled at Bijou. “Remy asked me to tell you he stepped out for a couple of minutes. He’ll be right back. He’s just down the street at the gallery. I’m Angelina, the computer nerd.”

  Bijou smiled at her, relief flooding. Remy wouldn’t be gone long, and he’d know what to do. “I’m Bijou Breaux.”

  “Remy’s woman,” Angelina said. “You’ve made him very happy.”

  Bijou liked Angelina immediately. “I hope so. He certainly makes me happy.”

  “Would you like a cup of coffee while you wait?” Angelina asked.

  “That would be lovely,” Bijou said.

  She wandered around the room, looking at the desks and computers, marveling at how the men and women working there solved murders and various other crimes. Her path took her nearly straight to the murder board. She tried not to look, but it was impossible not to stare at the horrendous pictures of a man brutally murdered.

  “You shouldn’t look at that,” Angelina said. “It will give you nightmares.”

  “It’s like the train wreck you can’t stop watching, isn’t it?” Bijou asked as she took the coffee. Her gaze went back to the board. “It’s almost mesmerizing. Who could do such things to another human being?”

  “Sadly, Bijou, working here, I’ve learned human beings can be very cruel to one another. I stopped being shocked many years ago—until this killer came along.”

  Bijou studied the altar. It was so bizarre. “Is that really a bowl of blood and a human hand? His heart? This looks like something from a horror movie, not real life . . .” She trailed off, peering closer.

  Her breath rushed out of her lungs. Her hands went numb. The coffee mug crashed to the floor. “Angelina,” she said without turning around. “Where did you say Remy went?”

  “To the gallery. Are you all right?”

  “No. No, I’m not all right. Call everyone. Call them right now and send them to the gallery.” She ripped her phone from her purse and took off running, hitting the only other number she had on speed dial besides Remy.

  Saria answered almost immediately. Bijou burst out of the station house. “Remy’s in trouble, Saria. Send Gage and everyone else to the gallery just down from his station. He’s there now.”

  She yelled into the phone as she tried to run down the street toward the gallery. Her high heels slowed her down so she kicked them off and ran in her stockings.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The stone. In the altar. It was Arnaud’s. Remy went there to talk to him. I may be crazy but that stone is unmistakable.” She was breathing too hard to continue talking so she just ran, her heart in her throat.

  Her leopard had been trying to warn her something was wrong, but she hadn’t yet gotten used to trusting her other side. There was no doubt in her mind Remy was in trouble. Everything in her screamed that he needed her. Every hair in her body stood up. Goose bumps ran up and down her arms.

  “Gage says wait for help,” Saria screamed into the phone.

  She’d forgotten to end the call. She wasn’t waiting. Was Gage crazy? Maybe he didn’t believe her, but it all fell into place for her. All the clues that had been right in front of her.

  Arnaud was completely disconnected from people. He didn’t view them as human beings. Even his sculpture was about life-forms, not human beings. He was enormously strong from all the climbing he did over the years. He traveled all over the world and he went to most of her concerts. He had tremendous skill with cutting tools.

  Remy wondered why the harvester had taken the same set of bones. Clearly he’d lost the first set. They must have been in the SUV that had gone into the bayou. Arnaud was merely replacing what he’d lost. He’d actually said to her that there was nothing in the vehicle that couldn’t be replaced. He’d said he was behind on his timetable. And his sculpture . . . Oh, God, why hadn’t she noticed? Why hadn’t it registered? All those faces. His victims giving back.

  “Please, please, please,” she chanted. “Don’ let me be too late.”

  She wrenched the door to the gallery open and ran inside without hesitation. Skidding to
a halt, she could see the light coming from under the door to the back room. Heart pounding, she walked barefoot through the gallery to the door. Her mouth was dry. Her leopard was raging. Her heart felt wild and out of control.

  Bijou took a deep breath and opened the door. Arnaud was standing over Remy’s body, staring down at his face with a look very close to love. Remy was lying motionless on the long table. Beside him was a spread-open leather pouch. The light shining down into Remy’s face also illuminated the array of cutting tools Arnaud had spread out beside the detective.

  “Arnaud?” she called out to the artist.

  He looked up at her and smiled. “He’s perfect, Bijou. So perfect.”

  “Yes, he is.” She stepped closer, desperate to see if Remy was still alive. “We’re supposed to go to dinner tonight. He’s late.”

  “We’re working,” Arnaud told her. “I tried sketching his eyes, but I couldn’t re-create that look I wanted. It was there the other night, and then it was gone.”

  “Yes. I remember.” Bijou poured enthusiasm into her voice. She still clutched the cell phone, the line open between her and Saria. She stepped closer. She was about halfway to the table. “He was jealous of you. He looked like a hunter.”

  Arnaud’s head jerked up. “That’s it. That’s it exactly, Bijou. You always get it. A large jungle cat about to leap on his prey.” He frowned. “You can’t stay. I have work to do.”

  “I know you do.” She used her most soothing voice, edging closer still. “Why isn’t Remy moving? He looks like he’s asleep, but his eyes are open.”

  Arnaud shrugged. “Just a little ketamine. He can’t move. He has to stay still, but I need his eyes to get that penetrating look.”

  “He’s alive?”

  “Of course.” He waved her away. “I really need to work, Bijou.”

  “I just have to ask about the bones.”

  “The bones?” he echoed, already distracted. He moved closer to the table, to the instruments spread out before him. His hand was inches away from a cutting tool.

  “Yes. You took bones and some of them were lost in the SUV when Bob Carson pushed it into the bayou. What was so important about the bones? I know you needed to replace them.”