Saria laughed. “Ofse I did, but I did listen to my brother.” For a moment her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“And?” he prompted.

She sent him a veiled look from under her long lashes. “I struck up a friendship with Evangeline, the daughter, and we meet sometimes and just hang out together.”

He closed his eyes briefly, trying not to imagine what would have happened if she’d been caught by Evangeline’s grandfather. “There on the property?”

“I told you, she doesn’t leave it—ever.”

“Not even to go to school.”

“She’s homeschooled. I bring her books sometimes.”

“And your brothers don’t know.”

“Of course not. Remy would be really angry. Evangeline is different and very lonely. I don’ see the harm in keepin’ our friendship a secret.”

“If the old man died a couple of years ago, why does she still have to hide that she knows you?”

Saria shrugged. “Her father and uncle might not like it, that’s all. We didn’t want to take the chance that they’d forbid our friendship.”

He suppressed a groan. Saria’s stubborn streak of independence must have made her father crazy. She chose her own way, and few things seemed to deter her—not even danger.

She pointed to a particularly muddy bank. “See that, the way the mud has those skid marks. That’s a gator slide. They have territories too. They can get quite large and they’re dangerous, Drake. If you’re messin’ around in the swamp or bayou, you have to be aware of the predators.”

He glanced at her sharply. She was telling him she could take care of herself—and she probably could under most circumstances. “Sometimes predators are sitting next to you for years, honey, and you can’t see them.”

Her gaze flicked to his, caught and held before she looked away. “Amos Jeanmard leases this property,” she said. “He loves birds and allows me to photograph here whenever I like.”

Drake could see why she would want to take pictures. Jeanmard had a little piece of heaven. Birds of every color flitted through the trees. Others wheeled above in a large colorful flock. He spotted hawks and cranes and just about every kind of bird in between.

“I was here that first night. I had set up a blind to capture a series of photographs on owls,” Saria said. She nodded across the water. “The tip of Fenton’s Marsh is over there.”

The fog was slow to burn off, even with the glow of the orange sun beating down on them. He could barely make out the curve of the land mass she was referring to.

“I could just make out the lights of two boats. Someone screamed. It was really scary.”

He sighed. “At least you knew enough to be scared, although that didn’t stop you from investigating.”

She shrugged, undeterred by his judgment. He turned his attention to the Jeanmard property. There were the telltale piles of leaves and the rake marks. These were quite high and deep, but less frequent, as if the resident leopard had less to prove. He studied the deep furrows for a few moments. On three of the trees, a second leopard had raked deep into the tree over Jeanmard’s marks. A challenge then.

Drake wasn’t surprised. From just the small observations during the fight the night before and with what Saria had told him, he could see the lair was in desperate need of new leadership. Jeanmard had given everything to his lair and he wanted to retire. He wanted to sit on the front porch with the woman he’d loved for years and end his duties to the shifters.

“What is it?” Saria asked.

He would have to remember she was quick and observant. He passed the binoculars to her. “Take a look at the rake marks in those trees.”

“I used to see these on the house and in the trees around our property. Mon pere would sand them off the walls. What are they?” Saria handed him back the glasses.

“A male leopard marks his territory. As humans we can go into that territory and it wouldn’t be considered a challenge, but should I shift to leopard form and enter, he would have the right to attack me. Did you notice the second set of marks?”

She frowned at him and took the binoculars out of his hand again to study the deep furrows in the trees. “They’re a little different, not quite as high.”

“Exactly.” He couldn’t help feeling a surge of admiration and pride in her. Few people would have spotted the second set of rake marks even when pointed out to them. Her years in the swamp had honed her observation skills.

“What does it mean?”

“Every lair has a leader. I believe Jeanmard has been the leader of this lair for some time and when his wife died a few years ago, he wanted to step down. I think he’s got a challenger.”

Saria sat back in the boat and studied his face. “You think there’s trouble here, don’ you?”

“Yes. I think the lair has needed strong leadership and no one has stepped forward to take over. Whoever is vying for the position now is tentative. His rake marks are not as deep as they should be, nor do they cover all of Jeanmard’s.”

“You grew up knowing all of this right from the beginning, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “I’ve seen enough here, let’s keep going. I’d like to check a couple of other properties. I might be able to match the marks and tell you who is challenging Jeanmard for leadership. If we know who it is, you can profile them for me.”