“Obviously planted by the killer,” Gage suggested. “Who would ever find a leopard runnin’ around here?”

“Drake will have to order everyone not to shift for a while. We can’t take any chances with the locals thinkin’ the Rougarou is haunting the swamp. The last time two people shot their neighbors, convinced they were shifters,” Remy said.

Remy stood up slowly, looking around. “There was obviously a party of some sort right over there.” He skirted the crime scene and made his way to the flat spot where beer cans were strewn everywhere. There was an empty tequila bottle as well as a Jack Daniels bottle.

“He must have come here with his friends.”

Remy and Gage exchanged a long look.

“Jean and Juste Rousseau,” Gage said.

“And also Robert Lanoux,” Remy said. “He was here partyin’ with the Rousseau brothers and their other friends. At least three others, probably the same ones who sat together at the club.”

“Funny how the Rousseau brothers keep turnin’ up,” Gage said. “I’m likin’ this group for the break-ins.”

“And they definitely were partyin’ with Alan Potier. He was the third victim four years ago. The brothers were with him when they were partyin’ behind the school. Potier was a local boy found in the tree just past the football field there, that giant oak tree. He and the Rousseau brothers had been drinkin’ under the bleachers that night. They claimed they passed out and when they woke up, Potier was gone. They walked home from the school and never saw Potier alive again.”

“You didn’t smell a lie?”

Remy shook his head. “They were nervous, but in a murder investigation, most people are. I looked at them for a while, so clearly I wasn’t completely convinced—it seemed a little strange to me that they wouldn’t notice the body in the tree. The tree was a good distance away from them, but it still seemed unlikely to me that they wouldn’t have seen the body. Wouldn’t you look around for a friend if you passed out when he was there and then when you woke up, he was gone? At least take a little look around?”

Gage shrugged. “We would, Remy, but we’re talkin’ about the Rousseau brothers. I don’ think they’ve ever been responsible in their lives. They like stirrin’ the pot. And don’ ever underestimate them, they have high IQs. I absolutely believe they have a little ring of thieves they control and they case the places and send their crew in to do the actual robberies.”

“And the beatin’s?” Remy asked.