of his brothers in high esteem, but since Gage had become the sheriff, he’d grown very serious about his work and he was damn good at it. “Is it possible they’re a killin’ team?”
Gage frowned, studying the two men. “Are they capable of it? I would say yes. I think sooner or later they will kill someone. These break-ins are definitely not about the money. Whoever is beatin’ the elderly is doin’ it for fun.”
“You don’ get a scent?”
Remy’s pulse jumped. There was never a scent left behind at the bone harvester’s kills. Not one that Remy could catch, and his leopard was always close to the surface. The victim was always so fearful, sweat pouring off of them, the blood and intestines and bowels obliterating any scent the leopard might pick up, which was highly unusual. Leopards had a tremendous sense of smell, and Remy’s had always been a huge asset to his career, yet his cat had never been able to pick up the scent of the bone harvester. How could Gage’s leopard not pick up the scent of the violent home invaders?
“I definitely have caught their scents at the homes, but the problem is, they work odd jobs and they’ve done work at all the homes. They aren’t the only ones either. It’s a perfect way to get an in with those livin’ in the houses, and every single one of the victims describes the masked intruders differently.”
“I don’ like that Robert is runnin’ with them,” Remy commented, frowning.
“Yeah, I’ve been particularly worried about the relationship for some time, and I know his brother Dion has tried to get him away from them,” Gage responded.
“Could the Rousseau brothers be runnin’ a crew to do the break-ins?”
Gage shrugged. “I’d believe anything is possible at this point. But they’d have to be very smart to pull it off and never get caught. Why would they think if their crew got popped, they wouldn’t be named?”
“Because they are smart. Maybe they’re certain nothin’ can be traced back to them.”
“Still,” Gage said, “it’s possible you might want to look a little closer at them for the bone harvester’s murders. They left around the time the murders stopped and they’ve been back long enough to establish themselves and begin again.”
“You should have told me about them,” Remy pointed out. His leopard was snarling and raking at him, wanting freedom with the two brothers in such close proximity to Bijou.
Gage shrugged. “I had no idea you were considerin’ them for the murders.”
Remy had to be fair, although he didn’t feel fair; he felt like raging and raking his claws up and down the walls to claim his territory and warn all others away. He’d spotted several leopard males in the room, all with their attention focused, even fixated on Bijou as she performed. She looked alluring, sexy, her body moving subtly beneath that figure-hugging gown. She’d caught his attention again and he couldn’t pull his gaze away from her.
“That’s true,” he murmured.
There she went again, moving through the crowd instead of staying on the small stage close to the band where her bodyguards could stop any trouble before it started. He winced visibly when she stepped backward so gracefully, her hips swaying as she poured herself into her music. That small step took her a little too close to Arnaud, and his leopard pushed close to the surface, causing a wave of itching as fur threatened to burst through his skin. His joints hurt. His jaw ached.
Remy breathed deep and called on years of discipline to subdue his leopard. He breathed away the pain and worked his jaw to keep teeth from bursting through.
Gage nudged him, clearly attempting to distract him. Both knew just how dangerous a male leopard could be with his mate emerging for the first time. “See that man, third table to the right, fourth row. He was the one starin’ through the window of the café when Bijou was there. You asked everyone to keep their eyes out for him. His name is Jason Durang and he works for Bijou’s manager. Rob Butterfield, her manager, has been in town awhile now. They both arrived within a few days of Bijou. Durang has been doggin’ her, followin’ her everywhere and reportin’ back to her manager.”
Remy frowned. “He’s not her stalker. Bob Carson is definitely the man stalking her. I smelled his scent all over her car and even on the ropes he cut. He makes more sense. He has to