Clearly, the murder victim wasn’t human to him. The only thing he wanted was the bones; the rest was a personal ritual of some sort. He just got the job done of harvesting the bones as quickly as possible, hacking up the victim without seemingly noticing the mess, or the fact that the donor was still alive. Only then did he slow down and take his time over the preparation of the altar. Whatever he was doing seemed to catch him up in some kind of weird enthrallment—unless there were two of them—which Remy had considered more than once.

“Voodoo?” Gage asked.

Remy frowned and shrugged. He didn’t believe it was a voodoo altar, although certainly it appeared to be one. There were objects found in voodoo practice, but when he’d consulted Eulalie Chachere, a legitimate voodoo priestess, she had told him that the altar wasn’t right even for a black magic practitioner. Still, he would consult her again. She was an expert and if anyone could figure out what that altar meant, it would probably be her. Remy knew her and trusted her. “You’ll have to consult Eulalie. She worked with me before so she’s familiar with the crime scenes. She won’t disclose details. She can be trusted.”

“I was hoping you’d work this case with me, Remy,” Gage admitted. “You’re the murder expert, not me. He’s not finished.”

No, he wasn’t. Remy had an extra sense for such things even if he hadn’t seen the murderer’s work before. He would kill again and soon.

Remy nodded. “I’ll talk to Eulalie. She’ll help us. I’ll need to talk to Saria and Bijou as well.” He sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Bijou about anything unpleasant. It had taken years to forgive himself for the way he’d handled her ugly childhood, and he’d hoped that if they crossed paths as adults they could both put it behind them.

He forced himself to look at the body of his childhood friend. As long as he’d been the “vic” Remy could push the reality away for a time so he could get the job done, but grief was pushing close. “Have you notified next of kin?”

“I’m going to do that now,” Gage said.

Remy inhaled. He should be the one to do it. He’d been best man. When he opened his mouth to suggest it, Gage shook his head.

“I was friends with him as well,” Gage said. “And I went to school with his wife. You have enough to do. You always get the short end of the stick, and I’m askin’ you to take lead on this. The least I can do is spare you talkin’ to Amy.”

“Thanks, Gage,” Remy said. “Tell her I’ll stop by later.”