She was breaking his heart and clearly she wasn’t trying to. She gave him her little smile that never quite reached her eyes and spoke in that smoky, matter-of-fact tone. She wasn’t looking for sympathy and would be upset if she got it.

He forced a casual shrug, resisting the urge to yank her into his arms and hold her close to his heart. She certainly brought out the white knight in him. He had a protective streak a mile wide when she was around. “That song, ‘Blue Bayou.’” He wasn’t going to tell her that every time he heard it instead of “bayou,” he heard “bijou.”

“Since I love the bayou,” Bijou said, sweeping her hair back over her shoulder in an unintentional sexy gesture, “I’m fine with your nickname for me.”

How old was Saria? Maybe she was older than he thought. “What the hell were you doin’ runnin’ the swamp at night with my crazy sister?”

He looked up as Saria came through the doorway, grinning at him. He had known she was there. She was leopard and moved in silence, but he was leopard and he’d scented her the moment she’d come out of her darkroom and entered the main part of the house.

Saria laughed at him. “You’re not goin’ to think I’m crazy when you see these pictures, Remy. I had Bijou write down everythin’ she could remember, her impressions and even sounds she heard, and I did the same. We didn’t discuss the crime scene so we wouldn’t taint each other’s memory.”

“Good thinkin’, Saria,” Remy admitted.

“Comes from havin’ brothers in law enforcement,” she said cheerfully.

Saria set the pictures she’d developed on the table in front of him. For the first time she seemed to notice the lights were off. “What are you two doin’ sittin’ in the dark?”

“Visitin’,” Remy answered. “Waitin’ for you to get out of that room so I could give you a lecture on safety, which you clearly won’t listen to, and drinkin’ your very fine coffee.”

Saria put her arm around Remy’s neck and dropped a kiss on his cheek, a rare gesture of affection for his younger sister, and one that told him she’d been shaken by finding the murdered man. He patted her arm gently.

“It was Pete Morgan, wasn’t it?” Saria asked, stepping back.

She wasn’t fast enough. Remy caught the faint scent of fear and felt her body tremble. His sister was a tough little thing, but finding the body of a friend, one murdered in such a vicious, gruesome way, had to have been distressing. She flipped on the light and crossed to the counter to get a glass of water.

“Yes. I’m sorry, Saria. It must have been horrible for you.”

She turned and faced him, leaning back against the counter. “How do you do it? Gage and the others break up fights most of the time and go after idiots, but you have to look at murders all the time.”

He was very aware of Bijou across from him blinking rapidly as if the light bothered her. He knew better. She’d always acted tough, as if she didn’t care, but she had a soft heart. “Most murders around here are pretty straightforward. Stupid arguments, revenge. That sort of thing, not a serial killer who rips apart people I know.”

“I don’ think I’ll get that image out of my head for a long time, if ever,” Bijou admitted.

Remy’s gaze jumped to her face. He didn’t need the light on to see that her eyes were haunted. He cursed his sister silently. “What exactly were you doing in the swamp tonight?”

“I was showing Bijou a nest I’ve been taking a series of photographs of. I landed a really big contract with a company that provides stock photos and they wanted the swamp at all hours along with the wildlife and plants,” Saria answered. “I’m supposed to capture the feel of the swamp throughout all seasons.”

Remy swallowed his sarcastic reply. Sending in the pictures of the murder would certainly show the company that gave his baby sister the contract what kind of danger they put her in, but Saria would ignore his bad humor and good advice. She went her own way and made her own decisions. He couldn’t blame her. Maybe it was guilt that made him so overprotective of her now. When she was a child running wild and free in the swamp, he hadn’t paid attention. Like Bijou, she hadn’t had supervision and she’d been the adult in the home, not her drunken father.

“Remy.” Saria sounded loving.

He looked up at her. She looked so young, but so adult. Just like Bijou. Of course they’d gravitated toward one another and been secretive about it. For good reason. He sighed.

“I had a good childhood,” she said. “Stop beating yourself up. I love that you want to protect me, but I’m all grown up now. You can’t take care of all of us.”

“I can damn well try,” Remy replied. His gaze jumped to Bijou’s face.

She sent him a faint smile. “I see why you were so insistent on me explainin’ the threats. You have a strong protective instinct, but really, Remy, you have enough family to look after without addin’ me to the mix.”

He wished that was all it was. “Don’ kid yourself, Blue,” he snapped without thinking.

Color swept into her face and she frowned at him. The hell with it. Let her figure it out on her own. Clearly, no matter how often he told himself she was a baby, his body said other things. He was leopard enough to know there was more going on than he could see. Instincts were strong in leopards and never once had he found himself in such a predicament.