Savage Nature - Christine Feehan [164]
“Remy’s here,” Saria announced and headed to the door.
Even then she was careful to remember his instructions. Drake could have told her it was no longer necessary. Charisse Mercier hadn’t killed anyone. If she’d picnicked with a victim in Fenton’s Marsh, she would have seen Leopard’ her engineered hybrid. But someone who had been in the greenhouse had carried seeds on their shoes or clothing and left them along the Tregre border as well as in the Marsh.
“I know you think Armande . . .” Charisse began.
Remy burst through the cabin door, nearly knocking Saria over. He caught her to steady her, his face grim. “Mahieu isn’t answerin’ his cell. He didn’t come home last night. Where is he, Charisse?” he demanded.
“She doesn’t know,” Drake said. “It isn’t her. Nor did she know about the opium. Was Armande home last night, Charisse?”
“Stop askin’ me about my brother. I’m tellin’ you, he has nothin’ to do with opium. Talk to our workers. Neither of us have much to do with the outdoor gardens.”
“But you both go to the greenhouse,” Drake persisted.
“Armande is proud of my work. When I ask him, he always comes to see the new plants.”
Remy stepped forward and thrust several photographs into her hand. “What about these? Do you think your brother had anything to do with this?”
Charisse looked down at the first picture in her hand. Her entire body went rigid. Still. She made one inarticulate sound, every vestige of color draining from her face. Twice she tried to speak before she managed to get the words out. “I know this man. Is he dead? Mon Dieu. He looks dead. I went out to dinner with him a few months ago. Armande introduced us. They were friends from college. He stood me up on our second date.”
She swallowed hard and looked down at the second picture. A small scream escaped her and she threw the photographs back at Remy. “Why are you doin’ this to me? I went out with him four months ago. We had three dates. He was a nice man. Who did this?”
Saria instantly went to her friend and sank down beside her to take her into her arms, rocking her back and forth. “I’m so sorry, Charisse. I’m so very sorry.”
“You think someone is goin’ to do this to Mahieu? Because of me? Is this about me?” Charisse raised her head from Saria’s shoulder and looked Drake directly in the eye. “You don’t believe my brother did this because of me, do you?” There was horror in her eyes, in her very tone. She looked on the verge of fainting.
“I don’t know, Charisse, but someone is killing these men and if you are the connection,” Drake said, “and you’re also the connection to the opium . . .”
Charisse covered her face with both hands. “This can’t be happenin’.”
“I want you to look at some other photos as well,” Remy said, his voice much more gentle. “There’s been a series of murders around New Orleans. All female. Their bodies were dumped in the bayous and swamps and around the river. I just want you to tell me if you know any of these women.”
“I don’t want to look,” Charisse protested. “I can’t. You’re tearin’ apart my life and I won’t have you accusin’ my brother of runnin’ drugs or worse, killin’ people.” She kept her hands clamped over her face and began to weep, a low heartbreaking sound.
Both Remy and Drake opened their mouths but abruptly closed them when Saria imperiously held uphand to silence them. She stroked Charisse’s hair with gentle fingers, making a soft, soothing sound. Drake couldn’t help think how she would look calming a distraught child.
“I need you to think of Mahieu, cher. If you know Armande didn’t do any of this, you have nothin’ to worry about, but Mahieu could be in terrible danger. You don’t know, Charisse, perhaps there’s a stalker out there, someone who is tryin’ to make it look as if Armande or you is the guilty party. Please look. It may help us find my brother.”
Charisse very slowly lifted her face from her hands and looked up at Saria. The two women