Leopard's Prey

could barely drag myself out of my room, but I performed nearly every night. I found myself exhausted and so unhappy I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror.”
    She took a deep breath. “I guess I’m just tryin’ to explain to you why I wasn’t up on the news. I hid from everyone while I was on tour and then when I made the decision to quit, I hid from my manager because he was so angry with me. I needed time to figure out what I really wanted to do.”
    Quite frankly she was ashamed of having to tell him she didn’t have her life together, not even when she was young. She wanted him to see only her good side, not all the floundering and angst she’d gone through before she realized what she needed—and wanted in her life. For all the crazy things going on around her now, she knew she was right to have come home. She loved her club. She loved the intimacy of it and the fact that she could control when she performed and how often. She was certain she would fit into the community given time, and the paparazzi would lose interest and eventually leave her alone.
    She didn’t want him to think she was a loser sitting in her hotel room, feeling sorry for herself and not even watching the news when other people were suffering, being murdered and he was trying hard to put a stop to it.
    “I’m glad you’ve come home. Butterfield’s upset because he’s losing his money ticket.”
    “He says I’m letting my fans down,” she said. “And I suppose he’s right.”
    “If they’re fans, Blue, they’ll love what you love. Just because you aren’t singin’ rock and roll like your father, that doesn’t take away your voice.”
    She smiled at him. She couldn’t help it. He talked in that velvety smooth tone and looked at her with those piercing,
amazing
eyes of his and her stomach did flip-flops. Her heart beat far too fast and her mouth went dry. He just had so much charisma, a magnetic pull she couldn’t seem to ever resist. She knew better than to fall for his charm—he’d made it very clear his attraction had little to do with her—but still, she found it hard not to react to him.
    “Thanks, Remy. I hope you’re right, but if not, I know the club is what I want.”
    “Good girl. I think the club suits you, but more than that, you need to do what makes you happy.”
    “I didn’t have anything at all to do with those murders, Remy,” she said, making certain to look him in the eye. She was in the same city where every one of the murders occurred.
    “I know that. I can’t imagine you hoisting a grown man up a tree, let alone carvin’ him up. I didn’t think for one moment you had anything to do with the murders, Bijou,” Remy said. “But it’s very possible you know the killer.”
    She wanted to protest, but her gaze strayed through the glass toward the map on the murder board. There was no denying the fact that where every single murder took place, she had been present. “I do have a few extremely devoted fans,” she admitted. “They follow me from one concert to the next. Some even followed me out of the country on my world tour. There’s a special group that run a fan club and the members are the first ones to be able to buy tickets and backstage passes.”
    “Can we get a list of their names? Do you know them all by sight?”
    “I’d recognize the ones who come backstage on a regular basis, but if they don’, and not all of them do, there’s no way I’d be able to recognize them. In any case, Remy, I can’t remember who was at what concert.”
    Remy tightened his hands around Bijou’s. She was extremely distressed, but holding herself together. He could feel the tension in her. Her hands trembled beneath his. The idea of knowing a serial killer, that he might be traveling to her concerts and killing at every event, sickened her.
    “Could I have done somethin’ to make this happen? A song? Ignorin’ someone? There’re so many people and I really try hard to autograph for as many as possible and talk a little with anyone I meet, but I’m exhausted after every concert and maybe I didn’t take the time I should have.” Bijou delivered the confession in a little rush.
    Remy shook his head. “I don’ know what the trigger was for this man to begin killin’, Blue, or even if he has anythin’ to do with goin’ to your concerts, but it has nothin’ to do with
you
. I’ve run into killers before, many times, but no one has ever been this cold. Believe me,
chere
, this