Leopard's Prey

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.