The forensic team had arrived, and the photographer was busy getting shots of Carson from every angle. The sunlight came in through the cypress trees and spilled over them. Remy crouched low, angling from one side to the next to better see the body. It was right there. Right in front of him. Frustration had him rumbling low, under his breath.

“Make certain you get some good shots of the altar for comparison,” he snapped.

The photographer scowled at him, but refrained from speaking. He knew his job and was irritated that Remy might not think he did.

Remy wasn’t even looking at him, instead he was staring at the body. He stood up slowly, light dawning, the pieces falling into place. He knew exactly what was different.

“Gage.” He waited until his brother turned to face him. “It’s wrong. This is all wrong.”

“What is?” Gage moved closer, frowning, trying to see whatever it was his brother saw.

LeBrun, the ME, stopped what he was doing. Even the photographer paused. Remy was good at his job and usually spotted discrepancies before anyone else. He had an eye for murder and an uncanny knack of solving them.

“He doesn’t do this.”

“This is exactly what he does,” Gage argued, frowning at Remy.

Remy shook his head. “No, Gage.” He indicated the torn chest with a sweep of his hand. “This is wrong. He has a pattern, and he’s broken that pattern.”

“I don’ understand.”

“The bones. He already took those bones with the first victim. He should be takin’ bones from the legs, but he didn’t. He follows a pattern, and he never takes the same bones,” Remy said.

LeBrun nodded his head. “That held true four years ago. But maybe he doesn’t always do that.”

Remy shook his head. “I studied every murder he’s committed that I could find over the years. He always kills four victims and he takes the bones in a specific order. He’s never deviated.”

“A copycat?” Gage ventured.

LeBrun huffed out his breath. “His technique can’t be copied, and this is the same man who carved up the others. I would never mistake his work.”

Remy nodded. “So there’s definitely a reason for the change. That’s twice he’s deviated from his usual ritual. Cooper was personal, and now he changed his bone pattern. He’s too methodical and ice-cold to have panicked and done something different. Taking the same bones from victim three as he did from victim one was as deliberate as keeping Cooper alive as long as possible.”

“There’s no sign of panic that I can see,” LeBrun said. “This man could be a brain surgeon, operate in the middle of a war zone and never break a sweat.”

Remy turned his head to look at LeBrun. “He’s strong as hell, Doc. I’m beginnin’ to think he’s one of Jean and Juste’s demons.”