a strained voice. “I’m sorry you think so.”
She struggled to rein in emotions that were rapidly getting out of control. “Okay, maybe somebody left it to make me wonder about your motives.”
“That’s a theory,” he muttered. “Why would they leave it out here? This is my daily view—not yours.”
“But I’m supposed to be working in the library,” she pointed out as she gestured toward the wicked looking thing. “What is it?”
“Gris-gris,” he answered evenly, obviously making an effort to get control of himself as he took out a pocket handkerchief, picked up the blob and laid it on the table.
She stood up, too. “What exactly is gris-gris?”
“A voodoo charm.”
She peered at the blob in the handkerchief. “Not a love charm, I take it,” she whispered.
“Hardly.”
When she reached out to touch the thing, his hand whipped out to pull hers back. “Leave it alone.”
“Why?”
“For all I know, she could have dipped it in the toilet—or worse— before putting it here.”
She snatched her hand away. “Her? You think the voodoo priestess left this here?”
“Who else?”
“Somebody who wants you to think it was her. Someone else in town. A relative of the murder victims. Or one of the merchants who thinks the murders have affected business.
He sighed. “I suppose that could be an explanation.”
“But you don’t think so.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “I told you, people in town are afraid of me. I thought that nobody in St. Germaine would be brave enough to come near my house at night—except Yvonne. I guess it was the wrong assumption!”
“Yvonne. That’s the priestess?
“Yes.”
“Why is she different?”
“She’s protected herself with a spell.”
Morgan swiveled to face him, studying his features to see if he was putting her on. “You believe that? I mean, you believe in voodoo? And that this woman can give herself special protections,” she added.
He waited several seconds, and she watched anger and—surprisingly—vulnerability chase themselves across his face. “I guess I have to.”
While he looked so off balance, she pressed, “What does that mean?”
“It means that things have happened around here that I can’t explain any other way.”
“Like what?”
“Like my not being able to get near her!”
“Okay,” she answered, then wedged her hands on her hips, coming back to a point she’d made earlier. “You should have included that information in your report to me.”
“It’s not relevant. I asked you to find out who is killing people in the bayou and trying to pin it on a mysterious jaguar.”
“You’re sure it’s not her?” she asked again.
“Yes!”
She stared out at the grounds of the estate but kept him in the edge of her vision. Apparently, the subject of the voodoo priestess was an emotionally charged one for him.
“Do you think this charm can cause you harm?” she asked in a quiet voice.
He had been looking down at the thing. Lifting his eyes to her, he said, “It could be meant to cause you harm.”
His words stabbed into her, mimicking the pain that had throbbed in her head in response to the beating drum.
“Me? Why?”
“Because you’re here,” he clipped out. “Because if you’re living in my house, she doesn’t wish you well.”
She watched him carefully as she asked, “Did you do something to her? Something to make her mad?”
“Not me personally, at least as far as I know. I’ve stayed strictly away from her. I mean as much as I can. But she still comes out here. It’s all wound up with the grudge she holds against my family.”
She wanted to bombard him with more questions. But he asked quietly, “Could we drop the subject?”
“Okay,” she agreed, even as she silently added—For now. Part of her job was judging when and how to get information. She could see it would be better to come back to the subject when he was a little more emotionally detached.
“I’m going to get rid of this thing,” he said, pointing to the charm.
“You don’t mean—throw it away, do you?” she asked quickly, concerned that he might be planning to destroy evidence.
“No.” He laid it on the table, then said, “I’ll put it in a plastic bag and save it.”
She wanted to ask if he’d give it to her so she could send it back to Decorah for an evaluation, but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t agree. And she didn’t want to make it a contest. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before changing the subject. “I haven’t checked in with my office. I should send them an e-mail and tell them I’m okay.”
He seemed to