Leopard's Prey

would be implicated if he got caught. Durang might not be terribly smart, but he’s cunning. He isn’t going to take the fall for Butterfield.”
    “I hope you’re wrong too,” Gage said.
    Remy could tell by Gage’s tone that he thought Remy was probably right in his conclusions—he usually was. Remy took a last look at the carcass that had once been Bob Carson. He didn’t want to ever come across another body like Carson’s. This had to be the last one. He had to figure it out. A part of him hoped Arnaud could shed some light on things—maybe he’d seen the Rousseau brothers take Carson prisoner, but somehow he knew it wasn’t the brothers. Jean and Juste were violent, and they even were murderers, but they hadn’t killed Morgan, Cooper or Carson—he was certain of it.
    He drove through the narrow roads leading back to New Orleans, his brain trying to work out the puzzle. He had the pieces. Why didn’t they fit? By now he should have figured it out and if he didn’t, more people were going to die. He pulled the car over to the side of the road, and sat there for a long time.
    He needed to see Bijou. Just for a moment. Maybe it was silly, but she was warm and alive and a bright light in a world of madness. He’d never realized just how dark his world was until he’d found her. He’d been driven to right the wrongs, maybe stemming from that one moment when he’d failed a child and he’d vowed it would never happen again. Funny how his world revolved around Bijou.
    He pulled out his cell phone and texted her, asking where she was. Her answer surprised him. She and Saria had gone to Bodrie’s estate. She was intelligent enough to mention that Dash had accompanied them, so not to worry.
    His grip tightened on the steering wheel, and he sat for a moment, forcing his temper under control. Just because the Rousseau brothers were out of the picture didn’t mean that she was out of danger—not until he had Rob Butterfield and Jason Durang locked up. He picked up his radio and inquired on their whereabouts. To his consternation, neither man had been at their hotel when the police had gone looking and neither car had been spotted yet.
    He immediately got back on the road, driving fast, using his siren occasionally to move cars in front of him out of the way. Bodrie’s estate was on the other side of the city of New Orleans. He sent Dash a message to be on the alert. He resisted the urge to send officers to the mansion to guard her. He didn’t want to overreact, but he did drive faster than was probably wise.
    The double ornate gates were wide open, and he swept through, going up the long winding drive to the huge house. The grounds were well kept. Bijou obviously employed a staff that took care of the estate. Just walking up to the door made him feel a little sick to his stomach. He couldn’t imagine what Bijou felt. He understood why she would prefer to burn the entire building down.
    He didn’t bother to knock. It was Bijou’s house now, and whoever she employed would just have to learn fast that he was part of her life. He entered the high-ceilinged foyer with its white gleaming marble floors. The house was quiet. Too quiet to suit him. He inhaled, testing the air for scents. He caught the faint scent of lavender, and his sister’s comforting smell of spice and homemade bread. Dash smelled like cold medicine. More, he caught the scent of blood. Remy loosened his gun in his harness.
    It was a large house, two stories, with numerous rooms. The house sprawled out lengthwise. He had only been in the big room where her father seemed to do most of his entertaining. He went there first. Immediately he felt as if he’d stepped back in time. The room was arranged exactly the same as the last time he’d been there, back when Bijou had been eight years old. It was as if someone kept the house as a shrine to Bodrie.
    His stomach lurched again. Everything Bodrie Breaux represented went against everything Remy believed in. Had the man never married and produced a child, Remy wouldn’t have cared how he lived. Even if he’d dumped Bijou onto someone else to raise, Remy might have had a little more respect for him, but Bodrie was too selfish. He liked the idea of a single father struggling to raise his child alone. It played well in the tabloids and always garnered him more attention.
    He didn’t want to search this empty mausoleum room by room looking for Bijou and Saria. Eventually his nose would take