Savage Nature - Christine Feehan [60]
“What does it mean?”
“Every lair has a leader. I believe Jeanmard has been the leader of this lair for some time and when his wife died a few years ago, he wanted to step down. I think he’s got a challenger.”
Saria sat back in the boat and studied his face. “You think there’s trouble here, don’ you?”
“Yes. I think the lair has needed strong leadership and no one has stepped forward to take over. Whoever is vying for the position now is tentative. His rake marks are not as deep as they should be, nor do they cover all of Jeanmard’s.”
“You grew up knowing all of this right from the beginning, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “I’ve seen enough here, let’s keep going. I’d like to check a couple of other properties. I might be able to match the marks and tell you who is challenging Jeanmard for leadership. If we know who it is, you can profile them for me.”
She frowned at him. “How is this goin’ to help us catch whoever is killing people?”
“We’ll want the cooperation of the lair. We can only get that through the leader.”
“What if . . . ?” She trailed off and bit her lip hard, turning away from him.
“Why do you persist in thinking the killer might be one of your brothers?” Drake asked. “What aren’t you telling me, Saria?”
The boat swept along the shoreline, giving him a great view of the plants and birds. The sun slowly burned off the fog, so that the gray veil lifted, revealing the true raw beauty of the wild region. To a man who needed an untamed environment in much the way he needed air to breathe, the swamp was a thing of absolute magnificence.
“I recognized the bottles near the last two bodies,” Saria admitted reluctantly as she poured on the speed to take them to the next location. “We make our own alcohol and we use very distinctive bottles. They were ours.”
“But you have a bar all of your neighbors go to, right? Do all the seven families who lease from Jake Bannaconni frequent your bar?”
“Yes, even the Tregre family. This is as close as I can get you to the Lanoux land. Their property is a V-shaped wedge. Their property line runs alongside of ours.”
Drake’s leopard roared a protest. He felt a burst of heat through his body. His jaw ached and he had to turn his head away from Saria. That information disturbed him. It shouldn’t have, but the thought of Robert and Dion Lanoux growing up close to Saria sent his leopard into a kind of fury. He felt the raking claws and a terrible need to destroy his enemies. He breathed away the need to hunt and forced himself to study the trees.
Saria slowed the boat to almost a crawl to allow him time to find rake marks in the trees. He fixed the powerful glasses onto one of the taller cypress trees on the edge of the marsh. He instantly recognized that there were two distinct rake marks over the older version—probably their father’s—and one had been Jeanmard’s challenger.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The wind was blowing away from the land, taking any scent with it, but he knew someone was watching them. More than once he’d had a high-powered rifle trained on him. It felt the same now, that itch in the center of his back. He kept the binoculars trained on the trees.
“Get us out of here, Saria,” he ordered.
She shivered, as if a chill had gone down her spine. She picked up speed and the boat swept around the bend and out into the center of the channel. “Someone was watching us.”
“I didn’t see him, but I sure as hell felt him,” Drake said.
“I don’ want to do this anymore, Drake. I think I’ve put you in a terrible position.”
“It’s almost lunchtime, Saria. Let’s find a place to eat and relax.” He didn’t want her bolting on him now. It was interesting to him that she was more afraid for him than for herself.
“I called Charisse last night and asked her if we could picnic on her property. She has more firm land than anyone else and I know a couple of good spots that are secluded and beautiful,” she agreed. “They developed one section just for picnics, with the idea they might bring in tourists someday to visit the gardens, although they