Leopard's Prey (21 page)

Gage let him out at the next fork where there was far more cover for the leopard. He tracked Bijou’s car for several miles when he heard voices just ahead of him. Remy crouched low in the brush, the leopard’s heart beating fast, a silent snarl rising. The three men in the pickup truck stank of booze and pot. He recognized all three.

Ryan Cooper and his friends had come into the café to get an autograph from Bijou and made trouble. Brent Underwood and Tom Berlander nearly always accompanied Cooper. To Remy’s disappointment, sometimes Robert Lanoux, one of the leopards, did as well. Fortunately not this time. Cooper had a bad reputation. The cat struggled against his control, wanting to creep up behind them. A bottle came crashing into the brush, hitting a foot from where the cat crouched. Remy held him still when the cat’s instinct was to bolt – or attack. He could make short work of all three men fast.

Ryan Cooper pulled out a pistol and shot the bottle, shattering it. The leopard whirled and ran toward deeper grass, just as another vehicle came along the road. The Land Cruiser swerved, did a U-turn and stopped almost in the center of the road. Bob Carson, the photographer, got out of the driver’s side, a camera slung around his neck. He peered into the brush where the leopard had just been. Remy dropped to earth and began a slow, almost freeze-frame crawl away from danger just as Gage drove up in the patrol car.

Cooper and his friends began swearing. Carson continued to block the road, looking no doubt for Remy. Remy kept moving away from the group, but so slowly and stealthily that he could hear Gage’s drawling sarcasm.

“What the hell are you doin’, Cooper? You and the boys drink yourselves sick and then get behind the wheel of your truck and drive that way?”

“You don’ see us drivin’,” Cooper objected, his voice slurred, but belligerent. “We’re just out here mindin’ our own business and you can just do the same.”

Gage turned his head slowly to look at Bob Carson. “What are you doin’ blockin’ traffic? Have you been drinkin’ with them?”

“I just saw a… leopard. I think it was a leopard.”

The three men standing by the truck suddenly looked sober, casting wary glances around them. “You saw the Rougarou,” Cooper said in a low, frightened tone. “Here?”

Carson frowned. “What’s a Rougarou?”

“He’ll tear you apart and leave no blood left in your body,” Cooper said.

“Local legend,” Gage said, walking around the truck to the hood. He lifted it and stuck his head inside, rooting around. “Most of the time when we get calls it’s nothing but a normal break-in, but once in a while, we find bodies torn apart and not a drop of blood left in them.” Satisfaction colored his tone. He held up his hand, wires bunched and hanging. “You can collect these at the office, Coop. You’re not drivin’ drunk.”

“You can’t just leave us for the Rougarou to kill,” Cooper protested.

“Maybe you can talk this guy” – Gage sent his thumb in Carson’s direction – “into givin’ you a ride. Offer him money, or I’ll call you a cab. A cab comin’ all the way out here to collect your sorry asses won’t be much money for you at all.”

The slight breeze shifted just a little, a playful gust swirled leaves and grasses into the air and just as quickly subsided. The leopard whirled around, almost forgetting it needed to stay low and out of sight. A stench filled his lungs. He knew that scent. Recognized it. But which man? He wasn’t close enough. Hopefully Gage was and could separate the individual scents of the four men. The leopard snarled and continued his journey to find his mate.

9

“Arnaud, you’re goin’ to kill yourself. You have to stop,” Bijou pleaded. “That root system isn’t goin’ to hold. You’ve climbed to it three times and every time the bank crumbles. You nearly ended up in the bayou twice. Please come down.”

Not to mention the dirt and rocks pouring down on top of her. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if he fell. She’d managed to keep him on the narrow ledge the last time he’d come plummeting down, but she’d wrenched her shoulder and nearly hadn’t held him safe. It was a nightmare. The sun was thinking about sinking, and no one had come along to investigate. Maybe her car had been stolen and there was no evidence they were even there.

“No worries.” As usual, Arnaud’s voice was mild, no panic. “We can’t just sit out here all night. We’ve waited for someone to come along, but no one has. This has to be done.” There was absolute conviction – and resolution – in his voice.

The man wasn’t human. She was panicking – trying not to – but she couldn’t figure out what to do next. Clearly climbing to the top was not feasible, even with the rope and equipment and Arnaud’s excellent climbing abilities. Every foot- and toehold he found disintegrated beneath him. Mini avalanches trickled dirt continually and if he moved, more fell along with rocks. The root he had clipped his carabiner to slowly inched outward, as if that too would fall, and with it the small tree leaning over the embankment. The SUV must have grazed the tree as it tumbled over, and now that too was precarious.

Even as she thought it, with a horrible roaring sound, the tree tipped over in what looked like slow motion. Dirt and debris pounded down on her. She covered her head, grateful for the helmet, trying to stay as close to the bank as possible and make herself small. The sounds above her were horrible, grating and cracking, the tree groaning and then a terrible, ominous whoosh as the tree began to fall over the side. For a moment it teetered, and then the weight pulled the roots from the bank.

Bijou instinctively grabbed her flashlight and turned it on, sticking it in her mouth to leave her hands free as she turned from facing the bank, still crouching low and covering her head as more stones and dirt poured down. There was no time for Arnaud to get himself free of the root system. The tree dragged him over the edge and into the murky waters of the bayou. She held firmly to the rope, hoping to feel him come up.

When he didn’t and there was tension on the rope, she knew he was trapped and she didn’t have much time. She jumped in after him. The water was cold, the odor disgusting, but when her feet didn’t hit bottom, she took her flashlight out of her mouth, drew a deep breath and followed the tree down. She strained to see more than a few inches in front of her. Debris floated all around her, sometimes brushing up against her. Using the rope, she rapidly dragged it toward her, looping it over her arm as she followed it down toward the tree, the tangle of branches and Arnaud.

Her heart pounded so hard in her chest, she feared it might explode. Going underwater with such poor vision was terrifying. Alligators lurked, and only God knew what else was in that awful cesspool of bacteria. Something solid touched her foot and she whirled around, afraid she might faint from sheer terror. The knobby broken trunk of a cypress tree rose from the floor, one of the branches reaching out with greedy fingers for her.

Bijou forced herself to keep swimming, looking right and left, trying to find Arnaud in the underworld grove of broken trees. The rope jerked and she kicked harder, following that trail. She swam deeper until she spotted the rope tangled in tree limbs. She struggled through the branches, wondering how Arnaud had ended up
under
the tree instead of on top of it. Her lungs began to burn and she worried she’d have to go back up for air and Arnaud would drown.

She spotted him thrashing, fighting to get himself free. His hands were at the harness, trying to get it off when the tangle of rope and the branch pinning him to the soft muddy floor prevented him from unlinking the carabiner. She swam fast, now that she had a location, using the rope to help pull her along. The moment she got to him, she pulled the knife from her tool belt and cut him free. Arnaud continued to thrash. His foot was pinned beneath the tree trunk.

She could see that the rope had wrapped around the tree as it rolled, which had pulled Arnaud beneath it as it sank. She signaled to him and he went still, his gaze wide, clinging to hers. A calm descended over her as she swam to the bottom and examined the problem. She only had seconds now and she would be forced to surface for air. She would not abandon him. If she went to the top, so would Arnaud.

His hiking boot was trapped in the crook of one of the largest branches. She immediately took hold of the boot and tried to pry it loose. Instantly she knew it was impossible. Arnaud had been trying to do so all along. He wasn’t a man to panic and he would have thought of that. She sliced through the laces, jerking them free, opening the boot as best she could. Arnaud wiggled his foot out and kicked strongly for the surface.

Her lungs were burning and she couldn’t imagine what his felt like. Along the edges of her vision, a strange red had begun to shade out images. She kicked as hard as she could, desperate for air, afraid she wouldn’t hold out. The idea of drowning in the bayou with alligators feeding on her body spurred her last desperate kick. She exploded to the surface gasping for air. She’d never held her breath for so long in her life. Frantically she looked around. Everything seemed a little hazy. She felt weak, her pulse pounding in her temples.

A hand brushed her shoulder, and Bijou suppressed a scream. Arnaud wrapped one arm around her, putting his mouth close to her ear. “Can you swim?”

She nodded, ashamed of the weak moment. Arnaud had it so much worse and yet he was already calm, treading water even as he drew a great lungful of air deep. Bijou struck out for the ledge, looking around and peering below her, afraid all the thrashing around might have drawn an alligator to them.

The water was so slow moving it appeared stagnant and it was definitely brackish. She had the feeling that when the tide came in their tiny ledge would disappear. Crawfish and shrimp thrived, but there was no telling what kind of litter, chemicals or other things had found their way to the channel.

She concentrated on putting one arm in front of the other and pulled weakly, conscious that Arnaud had dropped behind her to make certain she made it back to the ledge. She dragged herself up, clawing at the muddy surface. Arnaud shoved her up by her butt and followed her onto the narrow strip. Both lay motionless, legs still in the water while they fought to breathe.

Bijou moved first, turning over, uncaring that she was lying in mud, pulling up her knees so unless an alligator exploded out of the water, she was relatively safe for a moment. She was freezing. Shaking. And she stank. Badly. Very, very badly. Beside her, Arnaud did the same, rolling over and pulling up his legs.

“Thanks again, Bijou.” He turned his head to look at her, confusion in his eyes. “You’re making a habit of saving my life.”

“I’m gettin’ really good at it.” She tried to make light of the moment. She huffed out her breath. “I don’ want to sound like a girl here, but I swear bugs and germs are totally crawlin’ all over my skin. They have to be in my hair too.” She squeezed her eyes closed tight. “I’m not lookin’ until I can take a long hot shower. Maybe for several hours.”

“Um, Bijou…” Arnaud paused. “You do sound like a girl.”

She couldn’t help herself. She laughed. They were alive. No alligator got them. “I stink like sewage, but then so do you – the latest in cool perfume. Thank God no one else can smell us.”

“Although we might smell like rotten meat to an alligator,” Arnaud said.

“That’s
so
not funny,” she said, trying not to laugh. She was afraid she might be on the edge of hysteria. “I’m freezin’.”

“So am I.” He glanced at the sky. “It’s going to be night soon.”

“Don’ you
dare
talk about climbin’ up that bank. I’ll push you back in myself.”

There was no sound above them other than the drone of insects. No trickle of dirt to alert them. Nothing at all, but she suddenly knew with absolute certainty they weren’t alone. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist to get his attention and put her finger to her lips signaling above them.

They both lay in silence, Arnaud, frowning, trying to hear whatever had spooked her. He put his mouth against her ear. “I can hear the insects.”

“Someone’s there,” she whispered back. She knew she was right. Her entire body had gone on alert. Deep inside something shifted and moved. That strange itch raced like a tidal wave just under her skin, rushing through her body in alarm.

“Bijou!”

Her heart dropped. She’d recognize that arrogant commanding voice anywhere. Remy Boudreax was up above them. Of
course
it had to be him that would come along when she was at her absolute worst. She moaned and covered her face with her hands, smearing mud all over her cheeks and chin.

“Bijou, answer me.” The imperious command left her in no doubt that Remy was searching above the bank for her.

Arnaud started to roll over in an effort to get to his feet.

“Shh,” Bijou cautioned, panic-stricken. She put her hand over his mouth “Don’ say a word. Seriously. I’d rather an alligator eat me than have him see me like this.”

The voice above them rose in volume. “Damn it, Blue. You’d better be alive. Answer me. Where the hell are you?”

“That’s a friend of yours I take it,” Arnaud drawled around her hand.

“He is not goin’ to get the satisfaction of seein’ and smellin’ me like this,” she hissed.

Something moved along the edge above them, clearly following the path of the SUV. There was a lot of cursing in Cajun French.

“We have to be rescued before dark,” Arnaud pointed out in his usual pragmatic way.

She was silent a moment, then she snapped her fingers, already moving, trying to curl herself into a little ball. “You get rescued, and then come back for me.”

“You really like this man, don’t you?” There was a trace of amusement in his voice.

“Don’ laugh at a desperate woman, Arnaud,” she warned. “You’ll be goin’ back in that really smelly, disgustin’ water.”

“Blue? Where the hell are you? You damn well better not be in that sunken SUV.”

Arnaud raised his voice. “We’re here, trapped below you. A little worse for wear but we’re alive.”

“Traitor,” Bijou hissed between her teeth. She covered her face again, smearing more mud. “I’ll never live this down.”