Savage Nature - Christine Feehan [165]
The two women looked at the first picture of a woman’s face, obviously dead, her features delicate, hair spilling around her like spider webs. Charisse sniffed and shook her head. Saria showed her the next photograph. Charisse gave a small cry and flung herself back against the sofa, trying to retreat from the dead woman.
“That’s Lucy. Lucy O’Donnell. She was datin’ Armande. He told me she left town abruptly, that her mother was ill.” She looked up at Saria, a lost little girl. “I want to go home. I feel sick.”
Saria handed the photographs back to her brother. “Drake will get you a glass of water and we’ll go in a minute, Charisse. You didn’t kill those men, and it’s just as probable Armande didn’t kill those women.”
“He wouldn’t,” Charisse said. “He isn’t like that.”
“He attacked Saria in the grove just outside of town,” Drake said, trying not to snarl. He glared at Saria. He didn’t want her giving Charisse false hope.
“What?” Charisse’s eyes widened. She took the glass of water and drank most of it before turning her gaze back to her friend. “He wouldn’t.”
Remy and Drake exchanged a long look. Charisse was lying. She knew all about Armande attacking Saria in the grove.
Drake deliberately loomed over her, knowing he was intimidating with his leopard riding him so hard, furious that another man had dared to put his mark on his female, and worse, had hurt her in the process. Saria sent him a look that clearly told him to back off—which he ignored.
“Before you get yourself into more trouble, Charisse,” Drake cautioned, “you might remember I’ll know if you’re lying to me. I’m not all that happy with any member of your family.”
“Mon dieu, Drake,” Saria burst out. “Stop threatening her. Can’t you see she’s scared enough? You’ve told her about the opium and the serial killer and now you’re practically accusin’ her brother. Back off.”
Drake looked at Saria’s face. She was nearly as pale as Charisse. These were her friends. The interrogation was almost as difficult on her as it was on her friend. He wanted to gather her into his arms and hold her close. “I’m sorry, baby,” he forced himself to say, although he wasn’t as sympathetic toward Charisse as he should have been. She didn’t seem to have the same loyalty toward Saria as Saria did toward her. There was no doubt in his mind that Charisse knew damn well her brother had attacked Saria.
Charisse ducked her head again, looking ashamed. “I’m sorry, Saria, I really am. It’s my fault. I talked him into it.”
There was a long silence. Drake didn’t realize for a moment that he had snarled, the menacing sound filling the room and freezing all the occupants. When he looked down, he could see that Remy had thrown out a restraining hand, but had been prudent enough not to touch him.
Charisse trembled, drawing back as far from Drake as possible.
“It’s all right, Charisse,” Saria soothed. “That’s just Drake’s leopard gettin’ a little upset, no big deal. He knows I’m marryin’ him soon.”
Remy’s eyebrow shot up. “You are?”
“Yes she is,” Drake said. “But I’m interested in Charisse’s explanation. Why would you encourage your brother to attack Saria?”
“Not attack her. You don’t understand. Our mother wanted Armande to marry Saria because it was obvious Saria had a leopard. He told her that he didn’t love Saria and Saria didn’t love him, that they were just good friends. Our mother wouldn’t listen. She told him it was his duty. You don’t know my mother. She can be quite vicious when she wants something, especially with Armande. She cries and tells him he doesn’t love her. She won’t talk for days on end. She punishes us for any little indiscretion. She claims we’re not loyal and it goes on and on until every moment is pure, intolerable hell.”
She glanced at Drake and then looked away. “You have no idea what it was like growin’ up with her. Armande was desperate to appease her, so I came up with a plan. I told