“Killer?” Pauline echoed and glanced at Amos, mystified. “Saria, you aren’t makin’ sense. Come into the parlor.” She stepped back to allow them into her private wing of the house. The room they entered was a small sitting room. “Drake, pour a small glass of brandy.”
“I hate brandy,” Saria sniffed.
“Yes, I know,” Pauline soothed, “but it will help. Amos, stop glarin’ at the boy and bring that comforter. I think Saria’s in shock.”
Saria clung to Pauline. “You know I only went to school because you wanted me to. You know that don’ you? I did everythin’ you asked me to do. I didn’ listen to mon pere, to the church ladies or my brothers, only you. You know that, don’ you?”
“Of course I know that.”
“You’re ma mere, you always have been.” Saria tightened her arms around Pauline’s neck, burying her face on the older woman’s shoulder.
“Of course I am,” Pauline assured her. “You’re my girl. My child.”
“I thought I’d lost you. I can’t, Miss Pauline. I need you.”
“You won’t lose me. Amos and I have always loved each other, Saria, but you’re my daughter. No matter . . .”
Saria shook her head, knowing Pauline didn’t understand her, didn’t know how close to death she actually had been. Pauline peeled Saria’s arms from her neck and led her to a small, ornate sofa. She sank down, drawing Saria with her.
“You don’ understand,” Saria tried to explain. “He was here, in the house. I thought he might have killed you and Amos. No one heard him. He slides in and out of places and there’s nothing of him left behind. No trace.”
Pauline frowned as Drake held out the small glass of brandy. Saria didn’t take it, so Pauline did, holding it up to Saria’s mouth. Saria gulped the fiery liquid. It burned all the way down. She coughed and blinked back tears.
“Feeling better?” Pauline asked gently.
Saria pressed her lips together firmly and nodded. She glanced at Drake to see if he was horrified by her momentary madness. He looked relieved, but not about to run.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to him.
Drake reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth. “Don’t be. You’re entitled. You’ve had a hell of a time now for weeks, for months. You’ve been through a lot.”
She wanted to protest. She’d met him because of all the terrible things and he had made every minute so worthwhile. Making love to him had been wonderful, but she wasn’t going to bring that up in front of Pauline and Amos. They were waiting for an explanation for her breakdown. The brandy burned like a fireball in her belly. She glanced up at Drake again for direction. She’d blurted out important, confidential information. Maybe too much information. Her brothers knew what was going on, but they couldn’t let the lair know, not before they’d had time to investigate everyone.
Drake nodded slightly, giving her permission to disclose the truth. Her face burned with embarrassment. She’d never been so out of control. The fear of losing Pauline had struck her like a ton of bricks and she’d panicked. She’d never felt that kind of fear before, that terrifying moment when one could lose that important person who meant the world to them.
“I was afraid for you, Miss Pauline,” she whispered. Even her throat was sore after the storm of weeping. “Someone broke into the inn tonight. Into my room.” She blushed, but met Pauline’s gaze steadily. “I was in Drake’s room, but Joshua discovered the intruder and chased him into the swamp.”
Amos frowned. “He’s leopard. He had to have his scent. We can . . .”
Drake shook his head. “That’s the problem. There is no scent.”
“That’s impossible. Everything leaves scent behind,” Amos protested.
“Let Saria tell us,” Pauline advised gently. “There’s much more to this story, isn’t there, cher?”
Saria nodded. She started from the beginning, when she’d first seen the lights around Fenton’s Marsh and she’d found the first body. Pauline and Amos remained silent while she grimly told them everything. Se didn’t leave out the attack on her, or the fact that the leopard had left no scent. Drake took up where she left off, revealing that Remy had been investigating a series of murders where bodies of women had been dumped on the edges of the city, along the river and in the bayou.
“And you think this killer was here in the inn?” Pauline asked.
Saria bit her lip as she nodded. “He was in my room, and he destroyed all my things.” For some insane reason her eyes brimmed with tears again.
Pauline patted her knee. “Then it was a good thing you were in Drake’s room, now wasn’t it, cher? Do you have any ideas who this killer could be, Amos? You know most of the families well.”
Amos shook his head. “Every one of us has secrets, but I can’t imagine anyone other than old man Tregre being a straight-up killer—and he’s dead.”
“One of his sons? Or his grandsons?” Drake prompted.
Amos sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “I doubt it. They don’ have much backbone. I can’t imagine any of them pullin’ off a homicide let alone as many as you claim.”