Leopard's Prey

good shots of the altar for comparison,” he snapped.
    The photographer scowled at him, but refrained from speaking. He knew his job and was irritated that Remy might not think he did.
    Remy wasn’t even looking at him, instead he was staring at the body. He stood up slowly, light dawning, the pieces falling into place. He knew
exactly
what was different.
    “Gage.” He waited until his brother turned to face him. “It’s wrong. This is all wrong.”
    “What is?” Gage moved closer, frowning, trying to see whatever it was his brother saw.
    LeBrun, the ME, stopped what he was doing. Even the photographer paused. Remy was good at his job and usually spotted discrepancies before anyone else. He had an eye for murder and an uncanny knack of solving them.
    “He doesn’t do this.”
    “This is exactly what he does,” Gage argued, frowning at Remy.
    Remy shook his head. “No, Gage.” He indicated the torn chest with a sweep of his hand. “This is wrong. He has a pattern, and he’s broken that pattern.”
    “I don’ understand.”
    “The bones. He already took those bones with the first victim. He should be takin’ bones from the legs, but he didn’t. He follows a pattern, and he never takes the same bones,” Remy said.
    LeBrun nodded his head. “That held true four years ago. But maybe he doesn’t always do that.”
    Remy shook his head. “I studied every murder he’s committed that I could find over the years. He always kills four victims and he takes the bones in a specific order. He’s never deviated.”
    “A copycat?” Gage ventured.
    LeBrun huffed out his breath. “His technique can’t be copied, and this is the same man who carved up the others. I would never mistake his work.”
    Remy nodded. “So there’s definitely a reason for the change. That’s twice he’s deviated from his usual ritual. Cooper was personal, and now he changed his bone pattern. He’s too methodical and ice-cold to have panicked and done something different. Taking the same bones from victim three as he did from victim one was as deliberate as keeping Cooper alive as long as possible.”
    “There’s no sign of panic that I can see,” LeBrun said. “This man could be a brain surgeon, operate in the middle of a war zone and never break a sweat.”
    Remy turned his head to look at LeBrun. “He’s strong as hell, Doc. I’m beginnin’ to think he’s one of Jean and Juste’s demons.”
    “Don’ say that out loud,” Gage advised. “Half my people believe in the Rougarou and the other half believe in voodoo. We’re a superstitious lot, Remy, and this case is just adding to the growing legends around here.”
    Remy turned to the medical examiner. “I’d like to rule out the Rousseau brothers if possible. The tracks indicate only one man came here with Carson, but let’s be certain. We’ll be picking up Butterfield and Durang as soon as the warrants come through. If we’re really lucky the surgical instruments will be in one of their vehicles. I’d like to see them explain that away.”
    He indicated the body. “Doc, if there’s anything different about the bone harvestin’, any reason that you can see from comparing Carson’s bones to Pete’s bones that might give us a reason why he took the same ones, call me right away.”
    “Will do,” LeBrun agreed. “But, Remy, Pete was as healthy as a horse. His bones were dense and strong, and as far as I can tell, so are this man’s.”
    Remy sighed. “Gage, I’m heading into town. I’ll want those pictures developed as quickly as possible.”
    “We’re on it,” Gage said.
    “I know the answer is here. I just can’t grab hold of it,” Remy said with a sigh.
    “Durang is looking good,” Gage said. “He’s got a long history of particularly brutal violence. He’s certainly capable.”
    Remy shrugged. “I wish I believed that, Gage. I want it to be Durang, I really do, but my gut is tellin’ me I’m missin’ something. Durang was in prison when a few of the murders took place, and we couldn’t find any evidence of a passport for him. He’s a two-time felon, so chances are slim he went overseas.”
    “Butterfield then,” Gage said.
    “Maybe. But I don’t think he’s capable of this. He’d pay someone to do it, but he’d never get his hands dirty. My guess is, he wanted Durang to kill Bijou for insurance money and Durang wanted his own insurance. He probably insisted Butterfield get the tools and other things he needed so he