Leopard's Prey

party. He wanted a list of all initials and a confirmation of just who those initials belonged to and said as much to Gage. If the killer was choosing victims by those who had partied here, had this gone from random killings to actual targeted prey? Or had it been that all along?

2
    R EMY stood outside of the Lafont Inn staring up at the grand Victorian-inspired chateau. The Inn was old-style elegance, an era long gone by, but well loved. The chateau was a hidden jewel set back from the edge of the lake where cypress trees had given way to groves of white pine and oak. Marsh, swamp and lazy bayous all were within easy reach. Visitors could lie in the hammocks set in the shade of the trees a few feet from the water, staying cool in the trees while the breeze off the lake fanned them.
    White with pale blue trim helped to veil the house when the fog poured in from the lake and bayous. A wraparound porch and large balconies on the second story invited guests to view all kinds of birds and wildlife in the comfort of intricately carved and spacious rocking chairs.
    The Lafont Inn had been in the Lafont family for over a hundred years. Miss Pauline Lafont had inherited the house from her grandmother, who had married a Dubois. The name of the estate had changed at that time, but Pauline had returned the original name to the family property when she decided to modernize the house and turn it into a bed-and-breakfast some years earlier. On Saria and Drake’s wedding day, she’d given the Inn to Saria as she had no children and considered Remy’s little sister the daughter she’d never had. Pauline had then married the man of her dreams, the one man she’d loved always—Amos Jeanmard.
    Remy rubbed his aching eyes. He didn’t want to be like Amos, sacrificing his personal happiness in order to preserve the leopard species. Amos had married the wrong woman, a leopard, and stayed with her for years. Only after she died did he marry Pauline, the woman he truly loved. A part of him understood, but he was tired of being alone. He wanted a family, a woman to come home to. He’d traveled the world looking in the rain forests in the hopes of meeting someone who not only attracted him physically, but who could live with a man like him. He had all but given up hope of finding a female that not only suited him, but who he could love.
    Leopards were lethal cats, wild and savage and wanting a mate as well. A man couldn’t just bring home anyone, because if their cat became edgy and dangerous, so did the man. Sex could get rough and his temper could be short. He had great control, but lately his leopard had been displaying every negative trait a leopard had.
    He sighed and forced himself to move through the trees toward the chateau. He’d been on for nearly seventy-two hours gathering evidence for a murder in the French Quarter and had been on his way home when Gage had called him.
    He was edgy. Restless. His body hard and hurting. His mind a little chaotic. Not a good sign in the middle of a murder investigation and never good when he was going to see his wild sister. He didn’t need to say a word to her about going to the swamp at night, she’d know what he thought and she’d be on the defensive. If he was honest with himself, he couldn’t blame her.
    His leopard needed to run. Leopards didn’t do well cooped up. If they weren’t let out every now and then, the human side became every bit as dangerous as the animal side and he’d never felt so edgy in all his life, not even when he was in the jungle.
    “Saria,” Remy raised his voice. “Where are you, honey?” He walked farther into the darkened entryway. As always, his heightened animal senses took over. He could see easily even with the lack of lighting. He inhaled, taking scents into his lungs.
    It always smelled good at the Inn. There was always a seemingly endless supply of fresh coffee and he could count on his sister to have a large pot of stew or meatballs and gravy simmering on the stove. Saria and Drake managed to give the old place a welcome feel of home from the fireplaces to the fresh-baked bread and home-style cooking. Besides the rich aroma of coffee and spices, he smelled the faint scent of lavender. Without thought, he followed that drifting, inviting scent through the hallway toward the kitchen.
    “Saria? I’m lookin’ for a cup of coffee. Where the hell are you?” he called out again. She should have known he’d be coming no matter how late it