“I want you to look at some other photos as well,” Remy said, his voice much more gentle. “There’s been a series of murders around New Orleans. All female. Their bodies were dumped in the bayous and swamps and around the river. I just want you to tell me if you know any of these women.”

“I don’t want to look,” Charisse protested. “I can’t. You’re tearin’ apart my life and I won’t have you accusin’ my brother of runnin’ drugs or worse, killin’ people.” She kept her hands clamped over her face and began to weep, a low heartbreaking sound.

Both Remy and Drake opened their mouths but abruptly closed them when Saria imperiously held uphand to silence them. She stroked Charisse’s hair with gentle fingers, making a soft, soothing sound. Drake couldn’t help think how she would look calming a distraught child.

“I need you to think of Mahieu, cher. If you know Armande didn’t do any of this, you have nothin’ to worry about, but Mahieu could be in terrible danger. You don’t know, Charisse, perhaps there’s a stalker out there, someone who is tryin’ to make it look as if Armande or you is the guilty party. Please look. It may help us find my brother.”

Charisse very slowly lifted her face from her hands and looked up at Saria. The two women exchanged a long look before Charisse finally nodded very reluctantly. Saria smiled with encouragement at her and held out her hand for the photographs. Remy gave them to her.

The two women looked at the first picture of a woman’s face, obviously dead, her features delicate, hair spilling around her like spider webs. Charisse sniffed and shook her head. Saria showed her the next photograph. Charisse gave a small cry and flung herself back against the sofa, trying to retreat from the dead woman.

“That’s Lucy. Lucy O’Donnell. She was datin’ Armande. He told me she left town abruptly, that her mother was ill.” She looked up at Saria, a lost little girl. “I want to go home. I feel sick.”

Saria handed the photographs back to her brother. “Drake will get you a glass of water and we’ll go in a minute, Charisse. You didn’t kill those men, and it’s just as probable Armande didn’t kill those women.”

“He wouldn’t,” Charisse said. “He isn’t like that.”

“He attacked Saria in the grove just outside of town,” Drake said, trying not to snarl. He glared at Saria. He didn’t want her giving Charisse false hope.

“What?” Charisse’s eyes widened. She took the glass of water and drank most of it before turning her gaze back to her friend. “He wouldn’t.”

Remy and Drake exchanged a long look. Charisse was lying. She knew all about Armande attacking Saria in the grove.