Leopard's Prey

her carefully, his piercing eyes sharp with intelligence. She knew she’d gone pale and that her skin had suddenly become clammy. There was no way to hide it from him since he was holding her hand. His thumb slid innocently over her pulse. He was well aware something was radically wrong. She wasn’t a wilting flower. Her distress had nothing to do with the detailed pictures of the two men she knew who had been brutally murdered.
    He didn’t question her further, simply led her into his office, put her into a chair and went to get her a glass of water. She leaned her head into her hand. Nothing made sense anymore.
    Remy returned and carefully closed the door. “Drink this,
chere
, and then tell me what’s wrong.”
    Bijou took a long, cool sip, hoping it would help. Her mind raced with possibilities. “Remy, those cities on your murder map, I played shows in every single one of them. Includin’ the places in Europe.”
    He went very still, his hip on the desk, his eyes locked on hers. She couldn’t have looked away if she wanted to.
    “The same days, the same months. Every time I was in a city playin’ a concert, the killer was there too. That can’t be a coincidence.”
    She twisted her fingers together to keep her hands from trembling. “And the first set of murders, I was here in New Orleans for Bodrie’s funeral.” She looked up at him. “What do you think that means?”
    “It means your manager, his mysterious friend and your stalker just moved to the head of the list.” Remy toed a chair around and straddled it, sitting close, facing her so he could watch her every expression. “Were you at any time aware of the murders before Pete was killed?”
    “After I left town, which I did fast after Bodrie’s funeral, I read about a serial killer in the Garden District. It was in the news on the television as well. But I didn’t know about any of the other killings. When I’m on tour, it’s exhaustin’. I spend most of my time goin’ from city to city, so when I have the chance, I spend my time relaxin’.”
    Bijou looked down at her hands, her fingers twisted together. She hated confessing to him, making herself look like a loser. Those years had taken their toll on her. She didn’t believe in herself, or people anymore. She’d lost who she was. “I don’ trust easily, Remy. I saw the people who surrounded Bodrie. They weren’t his friends. They were usin’ him.”
    Remy leaned toward her, reaching out to cover her hands with one of his. “
Chere
, they weren’t real. You know the difference.”
    “I spent most of the time alone in hotel rooms, readin’ books. I love to read. I guess that’s my form of escape. Not drugs or alcohol, but books. I disappear into them, and durin’ that time of my life, I needed them. I wasn’t watchin’ television or readin’ magazines because I was afraid I’d see or hear something about me. I know that sounds vain, but I just don’ have the personality to be in the spotlight. I realized I’d chosen the wrong profession, but I didn’t know how to get off the merry-go-round.”
    “Being a public figure doesn’t necessarily mean you have to give up your privacy.”
    “That’s naïve, Remy, and I think you know it. Anyone chosin’ to be in the public eye is free game. Being Bodrie’s daughter I was already there from the time I was born. Like an idiot, tryin’ to prove something to myself and to others . . .”
    “What, Bijou? What did you ever need to prove to anyone, let alone yourself?” Remy asked, his thumb sliding gently back and forth across the backs of her hands.
    She ducked her head. “That I was good enough. Everyone wanted me to be him and when I first started singin’, people were saying things like, ‘What does she think she’s doin’. She has no talent.’ They always compared me to him, and of course I came off second best.”
    “Are you crazy? You’re a total success in your own right. Half the planet is in love with you and your voice.”
    She shrugged. “It didn’t start out that way, but by the time I’d made a name for myself I realized that wasn’t my world—that I didn’t even want it. Can you imagine how that made me feel? I was a success and people loved my music. I felt like the ungrateful brat the tabloids and all of Bodrie’s fans thought me. Here I had everything I’d wanted and dreamt of and I still wasn’t happy.” She looked him in the eye, wanting him to understand. “I was so miserable I