Leopard's Prey

couldn’t re-create that look I wanted. It was there the other night, and then it was gone.”
    “Yes. I remember.” Bijou poured enthusiasm into her voice. She still clutched the cell phone, the line open between her and Saria. She stepped closer. She was about halfway to the table. “He was jealous of you. He looked like a hunter.”
    Arnaud’s head jerked up. “That’s it. That’s it exactly, Bijou. You always get it. A large jungle cat about to leap on his prey.” He frowned. “You can’t stay. I have work to do.”
    “I know you do.” She used her most soothing voice, edging closer still. “Why isn’t Remy moving? He looks like he’s asleep, but his eyes are open.”
    Arnaud shrugged. “Just a little ketamine. He can’t move. He has to stay still, but I need his eyes to get that penetrating look.”
    “He’s alive?”
    “Of course.” He waved her away. “I really need to work, Bijou.”
    “I just have to ask about the bones.”
    “The bones?” he echoed, already distracted. He moved closer to the table, to the instruments spread out before him. His hand was inches away from a cutting tool.
    “Yes. You took bones and some of them were lost in the SUV when Bob Carson pushed it into the bayou. What was so important about the bones? I know you needed to replace them.”
    Her heart beat so hard she was terrified Arnaud could hear. She was up against the table now, right next to Remy’s head. His eyes shifted toward her. Those beautiful green eyes, filled with intelligence and awareness.
    She reached for her leopard, bringing her close to the surface just in case. Breathing deep to keep from shifting, she laid one hand on Remy’s chest, right over his heart. Protective. She was in position now and felt a little calmer.
    “I use them for my work.” He sounded impatient. Dismissive. She’d heard that tone many times and had dutifully taken her cue, slipping out of his studio and leaving him to get on with his creations.
    “In what way?” Where were the police? She’d told Angelina to call everyone. She expected even the bomb squad to show up. How much time had passed? She knew Arnaud better than anyone. When it came to his work, he wouldn’t be distracted for too long.
    Bijou planned out every move in her mind. Exactly what she would do if Arnaud picked up a cutting tool. Remy tried to tell her with his eyes to get out, but she would never leave him. She smiled at Arnaud and insisted he answer. “I need to know, Arnaud.”
    He sighed. “I dry the bones, grind them up into a fine powder and use them as part of the sculptures for texture. The bones bring my work to life.”
    Bijou could see that he wanted her gone. She was losing him to his art. “What about the altar? What’s important about the altar?”
    “I saw one in Haiti but it wasn’t perfect. It was beautiful, but not perfect. I wanted to perfect it, so I read about them and signed my work. It was my signature. How could you not recognize my signature? Now go. I have work to do.” He waved her away and then, as always, seemed to forget she existed.
    He reached for a wicked-looking, razor-sharp implement, and Bijou leapt over the table, using the spring action of her leopard. She hit Arnaud full in the chest, knocking him backward and down to the floor, landing on top of him, one hand pinning down the hand holding the knife.
    “Bijou.” Arnaud looked up at her, surprised. He didn’t struggle. Didn’t attempt to get away. He was enormously strong, but he didn’t even tense up. “Your eyes are like a cat’s, like his. They glow and change color. But you’ve got that look. The look of the hunter.”
    Behind her she heard movement. “I am a hunter, Arnaud,” she whispered. “So is Remy. Only you saw that in us.”
    “We’ve got him now,” Gage said. “Move away from him. The ambulance is here as well for Remy, Bijou. Just back away.”
    “Give me the knife, Arnaud,” she said as gently as possible. “Don’ hurt him. He doesn’t understand what he’s done.” She glanced back at Gage in warning.
    “Bijou, back off,” Gage ordered.
    Arnaud put the knife in her upturned palm. His fingers stroked her wrist. “I understand, Bijou. It just doesn’t matter the way you all think it does.”
    Gage reached down and pulled Bijou to her feet. She looked around her at the roomful of policemen, all with guns drawn. Arnaud didn’t even struggle. He actually smiled at her. Calm. Serene. Forgiving.
    Tears running