Bijou stared up at his face, shock in her eyes. “Carson is dead?”

Remy nodded. He ran a finger down the side of her face in a little caress, even though there was still a part of him that wanted to shake her for not playing it safe.

“And you think Jason Durang killed him? For Rob? Why would Rob want Carson dead? Half the time I think Rob informed Bob Carson where I’d be lately just so he could keep me in the tabloids.”

“I think Durang meant to copy the harvester’s murders in order to cover your murder. I intend to make Durang think I believe he did the other killings, but I’d be shocked if he did them,” Remy admitted, telling her the truth.

Both women reacted with shocked gasps. They looked at each other and then at him.

“Remy, do you really believe my manager wanted to kill me?” Bijou asked in a low voice.

For the first time he wished he could lie to her and make it all better. She looked . . . broken. He couldn’t blame her. She was in Bodrie’s house, and it seemed that everyone she had ever known associated with the man was corrupt.

“I’m sorry, Blue. Yes. I do. I think he gambles and loses and he didn’t want the money train to stop. When it did, he became desperate. The bone harvester comin’ back to New Orleans at the same time you did provided him with an opportunity.” He glanced at his watch. “Backup should be here. I told them to come in without sirens. This time when I say stay put, please do it, Bijou. Dash, you stay with them and don’ think about anything else but protectin’ them. If you forget what you’re doing a second time, I’m goin’ to beat the bloody hell out of you and you have my word on that.”

“I won’t, Remy,” Dash assured.

“Get back inside that room and don’t come out until I tell you we’re all clear,” Remy ordered. He didn’t let go of Bijou even as he gave the orders. She looked stricken, pressing her lips together. He glanced down at her hands. She was holding a photograph up against her heart. He held out his hand. “Show me, Blue. Is that your mother?”

She nodded and turned the picture over. The woman looked just like her. She had to have been close to the same age as Bijou was now. He ran his finger gently over the photograph. “She’s beautiful, Bijou, and you look just like her. I’ll be back in a few minutes and I’ll help you take all this back to the Inn.” Because he couldn’t help himself, he leaned into her and brushed a kiss across her mouth. “It’s almost over, chere. Hang in there with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured. When he turned away, she caught his arm. “Maybe you should take Dash with you.”

He loved Dash, his younger, very sensitive brother. Dash was hell on wheels in a fight, but he was made for finer things. Remy wasn’t about to risk him, not when he was injured.

Durang had a lot to lose and he knew he had the plastic sheets and surgical instruments in his car. Remy would use that against him, convince Durang he was going to be charged as the harvester in order to make him confess to the lesser crime of planning to murder Bijou. Remy wanted Rob Butterfield as well and he would do everything in his power to make certain Durang gave Bijou’s manager up. Remy wasn’t going to let the man get away with conspiracy to commit murder.

“I’ve got backup. This shouldn’t take long.” He winked at her and strode away.

He could hear Durang now, hurrying down the hall, back toward the staircase. Remy chose his spot. Durang would have to go past him to get off the last stair. Bodrie’s penchant for naked statues came in handy for concealment. He wasn’t about to allow Durang to spot him until it was too late. There wasn’t going to be a shootout. Remy couldn’t risk losing Butterfield and Durang had to flip on Butterfield.

Jason Durang came down the stairs stealthily. He was certain Bijou was somewhere in the house. He just had to find her and he could take care of anyone getting in his way. Remy let him walk one step past him and he stepped out and shoved the muzzle of his gun hard behind Durang’s ear.

“You’re under arrest. Toss the gun aside and listen very carefully to your rights.”

19

“I’M sorry, Remy,” LeBrun said. “I have nothin’ new for you. I can’t see any discernible difference in Pete Morgan’s bone and Bob Carson’s. I can tell you there were traces of ketamine in Bob Carson’s system. I found a small needle mark in his neck where he’d been injected.”

Remy frowned. “We found ketamine in the Rousseau brother’s stash of drugs for sale, and Carson had ketamine in his hotel room. This case just keeps getting murkier and murkier.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re aware some idiots use ketamine as a recreational drug. Carson might have bought the drug from the Rousseau brothers,” LeBrun said.

“I thought of that. Robert said that Bob Carson was a longtime customer of the Rousseau brothers and he liked a variety of drugs, including ketamine. But he wouldn’t have injected it into his neck.”

“That would be dangerous,” LeBrun agreed. “Injecting ketamine would be extremely dangerous. It’s fast acting. The person would be under before he could remove the needle from his arm.”

“So someone else probably used the drug to render Carson unconscious so they could get him out to the swamp. Was there ketamine in Morgan’s or Cooper’s body?”

LeBrun scowled. “If there had been, even slight trace amounts, I would have included it in the report.”