“Robert’s many things, but he’s no snitch. And he’s got a sense of loyalty when it comes to his friends.”

“Too bad he doesn’t have the same loyalty to our lair,” Remy said. “In any case, if he won’t give them up to Drake, I’ll get involved, and then he’ll be headin’ out to Borneo. The lair there will teach him a few needed lessons.”

“You’re a bloodthirsty man, Remy,” Gage said, and then looked down at the ground. “I shouldn’t have said that. Not here.”

Remy forced himself to look at Ryan Cooper’s body hanging from the tree limb. The body looked very much like the others he’d seen. He switched his attention to the altar. The rocks were set precisely with the same meticulous care he recognized. Leaves, and other ornamental rocks and shells were set in a pattern. The strange string of seven knots was set in the bowl of Cooper’s blood. The heart was in place. The altar was exact and meticulously perfect. Yet . . .

Something was off. Not the partial leopard print. Not the fur. Something about the crime scene was just wrong. But what? Remy frowned as he paced first one way and then the other, studying it from all angles. He held up his hand for silence. All motion and whispered chatter from the others stopped. Even the medical examiner stepped back. They’d worked with Remy and trusted him implicitly. That was a good feeling, but at times like now, an added pressure.

He just knew something didn’t quite fit. He inhaled, trying not to choke on the terrible scent of sheer terror and the overwhelming stench of blood and death. His gaze continually strayed back to the body. It was there. He was missing something important, and it was there on Ryan Cooper’s torn body.

He took several steps back, circled and came back. Each time he attempted to examine the altar, his attention was pulled back to the body. It was there. It had to be, but . . . Remy stepped even closer, peering at the wounds.

“Look at his neck and throat, Gage, tell me what you see? The way the bones were taken so carefully. Try not to see Cooper, just the way he was killed.”

Gage shook his head, but he stepped up close. The medical examiner, Dr. Louis LeBrun, moved closer as well.

“He’s finally made his first mistake,” Remy said. “He got a little careless.”

LeBrun and Gage looked at each other, both looking blank.

“Remy,” LeBrun said, “there’s nothin’ careless about this man’s work. He’s absolutely meticulous. He could be a surgeon the way he removes those bones.”

“Yes, but he carves the victims up without a single thought, like they aren’t human. He doesn’t care what kills them. He doesn’t even notice. He’s never noticed. The victim is his donor and nothing more to him. I never got the feeling he knew the person or even that he recognized his victim had a family or a life. The murder itself was messy and unorganized. Only the harvesting of the bones matters to him, so he’s meticulous about that. I doubt that ordinarily he notices when or even if his victim dies.”

The medical examiner swung around and stared at the body. “The killer was much more careful at first not to hit a major artery. He didn’t slash him up or rip him open like he always has in the past. Look here on his neck and throat. The rope burns are numerous, as if our killer tightened just enough to hold him still and then released him when he was too close to death.”

Remy nodded. “He made it personal. He knew Ryan Cooper.”

“I’ll have the boys pick up the Rousseau brothers and have them taken to your headquarters, Remy, so you can interrogate them.”

“Make certain to keep them comfortable,” Remy said. “We don’ want them to think we suspect them of the murders. We want them thinkin’ we just want to question them because they were one of the last to see him alive.”

“And Robert?”

Remy shook his head. “We’ll wait for Drake and then question him. Bring in Tom Berlander and Brent Underwood as well, but put them all in separate rooms. I don’ want them comin’ up with the same story. I’m bettin’ they partied last night in the swamp with Cooper and the Rousseau brothers.”

“Are you goin’ to find Robert?” Gage asked.

Remy nodded. “I’ll keep him under wraps until Drake gets back. I don’ want him tryin’ to take off, not after finding he was here at the crime scene and he didn’t even call it in.”

“We’re tryin’ to find out who did,” Gage said.

“Probably Dion. Robert would have gone runnin’ for his brother to fix his mess. That’s what he’s always done.”

“He’s gotten so much worse since Saria married Drake,” Gage pointed out. “I’m bettin’ he thought he’d someday wind up with her.”

Remy’s hand closed over his gun, almost a reflex action. He didn’t even realize he’d done it until he felt the familiar butt of his gun in his palm. “Over my dead body. That boy has a lot of growin’ to do before he can be with one of our women.”

Gage hesitated, and then he spoke in a rush. “You’ve got to make certain that these killin’s aren’t in any way connected to Bijou.”

Remy scowled at his brother. “What the hell are you talkin’ about? Bijou was with me last night. There is no possible way . . .”

Gage held up his hand to cut off his brother’s rising temper. “Damn, Remy, sometimes you’re as mean as a damned snake. I don’ think Bijou killed anyone, but she was there at the first scene with Saria and now this one. You just have to make certain there’s no connection.”