Chapter Four

Four

J eannette stood in the field by Gervais LaBlanc and Daniel and listened as one of LaBlanc's forensic experts spoke to him—in French. He was agitated and angry with himself, and she was only able to catch so many words. But the gist of his conversation had to do with the way they had created grids on the field after the body had been discovered here, and they had followed protocol going back into the field as far as had seemed reasonable and even possible when seeking evidence.

But they'd missed the remains of someone who had died long enough ago for creatures and the elements to have set in. And he was disgusted with himself.

Jeannette looked at Daniel, wishing she knew how to reassure the man. Gervais was giving him his full attention, ready to explain that no one could have possibly known beyond a reasonable distance there might be more.

"Daniel, tell him I believe I had to move a large branch, and I was way back from the road—they did what they could!"

"Monsieur, s'il vous pla?t !" he murmured.

Daniel spoke for her as she had asked.

Finally, the man nodded, still looking pained and shaking his head. He went on to join a member of his team who was creating a larger grid to be explored.

"You found those remains no more than one hundred feet farther back from the grid they had created," Gervais told her. He frowned, looking at Daniel. "Only one hundred feet, I think. In kil—"

"Yes, one hundred feet nails it," Daniel assured him. "And Jeannette, hmm. Good find. No, terrible find, but it suggests this has been going on much longer than we suspected."

"Of course," Gervais said, "this may not be related—"

"I'm not a medical examiner," Jeannette said, "and the head is almost down to nothing but skull, and still...those remains belonged to a woman, probably a young one. But, of course," she murmured, indicating the doctor who was kneeling down by the remains, her two young assistants standing back, ready to transfer the remains from the ground to a gurney when she was ready, "I believe we'll know soon enough."

"We'll know age and sex, yes. I spoke with Dr. Allard, and she has suggested that the remains are so degraded she may not be able to tell us the cause of death. But..." Gervais let the word roll as he frowned, prompting Daniel to step in.

"If I understood correctly, I heard her say she believes there are cuts in a few of the bones, which she believes were antemortem," he told Jeannette.

Jeannette frowned in turn. "Then she was tortured or killed by being cut?"

"Possibly," Gervais said.

"Well, we were hoping to find something out here," Daniel said. "We wanted to make a discovery. And we did make a discovery," he added dryly. "Just not what we thought."

"Not what I'd hoped to find at all," Jeannette said.

Daniel set a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. "Jeannette, she's been dead for a while. You having found her might at the very least help get justice for her and for all of them. Whether she was found or not doesn't change the fact that someone apparently killed her," he said softly.

She nodded, closing her eyes for a minute as she thought her first fears about his easy charm and almost boyish good looks meant nothing. He had what was often needed: a way with people. He had an empathy in his soul that was real. And...

She realized bizarrely at that moment she was attracted to him. Even as slight as their single day together had been, she felt closer to him than she did to many people she had known for years.

She gave herself a mental shake. They were standing in a field for the dead. This was not a time to worry about anything personal at all.

The remains of the woman were being transferred to the gurney.

Gervais turned to them. "Well, there are two more sites."

"Right. And we can't do anything more for that poor lass," Daniel murmured. "Should we move on? Of course, now we know this body has been here—"

"Don't worry. I have alerted both the national and local police. This area will be combed now from front to back," Gervais assured them.

"Then we should move on," Daniel said. He looked at Jeannette. "I'll take the back seat again and give our new information to Mason and the rest of the team in Paris. Gervais, I believe Mason or Della will arrive in time for the autopsy. Is that all right?"

"Of course. Our doctors are as eager as anyone else to see this solved," Gervais said.

They headed toward the car with Gervais pausing just to confer briefly with the head of the forensic team working in the area.

As they walked on to the car, Gervais shook his head. "There is so little we can get out here. Time, nature and the elements—all play havoc with evidence."

"They do," Jeannette agreed.

When they reached the car, Daniel took the back seat as he had suggested. Jeannette slid into the front with Gervais again.

"As we drive, we will pass the road that leads to the Matisse estate," Gervais said. "I am sorry for Delphine. She will be distraught to learn we've found yet another body."

Will she be? Jeannette wondered. Is her being nice a facade? The bodies are being found so very close to her property.

"That will be to our left," Gervais continued. "Now to our right, the land belongs to one of the most popular and renowned houses. And then we will pass land that belongs to one of the elitist couples you heard about the other night from the young waiter, and the second estate is just past that, property that belongs to Tomas Deauville and his wife, Giselle, and after that, the winery and castle owned by Leticia Montague and her husband, George."

"Castle?" Jeannette asked him.

"Small castle, built in the late 1700s by the Montague family. But I suppose having inherited a castle might have added to her belief that she is above others. Some seem to have forgotten all about the French Revolution," Gervais said, shrugging.

"I just keep thinking back to Madame Báthory," Jeannette told him. "Of course, she lived in a castle." She winced. "I've read a great deal about her. Some believe she was truly one of the most brutal and demented serial killers to ever exist. Others believe she was set up by family members who wanted her property. Some accused her of twelve murders, others suggest up to six hundred."

"If I remember my history, she tortured her victims—"

"And some suggest the killing started after her husband's death, and others say they started the torture and murder as a couple."

"But there you have it—torture," Gervais told her, frowning.

"And so far, the doctor has told us she sees cuts on the bones here," Jeannette said. "Perhaps the girl we just discovered was tortured."

"Why change their method of killing?" Gervais asked. "Go from torture to fairy-tale beauty?"

Jeannette shrugged, shaking her head. "I don't know and I may be entirely off. Frankly, I'm here because my last assignment had to do with victims discovered who were drained of blood. My Krewe teammates and I were able to infiltrate a cult. They weren't torturing people—they were sacrificing them. At this moment, we don't know the motive behind these killings—other than someone is taking blood."

"And we are here at the second site, where the young American was found. We are in disputed land between a major house and the house of Deauville. And we're on land bordering their estate. Again, the body was discovered just off the road. One of the tour bus drivers—sitting high in his seat as he drove—thought he was seeing someone who had imbibed a bit too much wine and fallen asleep in the field. He called the police. The local police were the ones to discover her."

He pulled the car off the road. Daniel got out quickly. Jeannette joined him as he stood by the road and stared out at the field.

"Mason and Della are on their way to the autopsy," he told Jeannette and Gervais. "Maybe something will be discovered."

"And maybe not," Gervais said dully. "But..."

"I suggest we walk a bit of a distance in different directions and see if... Well, let's hope we don't see any more victims, but we'll go back farther into the field, at least."

Gervais nodded. "The body was discovered right there," he told them.

The body hadn't been left far off the road at all, Jeannette noted. She nodded. "We are getting the feel for the sites—both old and new," she told Gervais.

"Let's walk it," Daniel said.

They did. Moving in different directions, they walked. They spent at least thirty minutes at the task. When they returned to the road, Gervais noted, "I think you're going to be too late for the tour. Because of the discovery of the body this morning..."

Jeannette glanced at her watch. They'd started out early, about eight in the morning, but it was true. They'd then spent hours at the last site once they'd discovered the body, and she hadn't once thought about the tour.

"We can take it tomorrow," Daniel said. "We have one more site. Gervais, is there a way to drop by and meet with Madame Matisse or with Tomas and Giselle Deauville—or Leticia Montague? We have our rooms at the B they were in the car. They had been partnered up—and he had to admit, he was naturally curious about her backstory. Reims was considered easy access from Paris, but it was still a long drive. Maybe that meant it was time to share a bit about one another.

She shrugged. "My story isn't different from most. My favorite great-uncle passed away when I was about nine. I adored him. He was the guy who was up for anything—he'd take me to those restaurants themed toward kids where they have pizza and video games. I won the fourth-grade spelling bee and, to celebrate, he took me to Disney World. He passed away unexpectedly from a sudden heart attack. When my family and I were at the funeral and I was crying my eyes out, he came and sat by me. Of course, I was a kid, so I told my parents. My dad warned me not to say anything or else children's services might come and take me away. Almost everyone I know in the Krewe had similar things happen to them. We always had to keep the secret, because other people would think we were crazy and thought we needed to be put away in a juvenile mental facility. But..."

She paused, looking at him, smiling. "The great thing is this. I still get to see him. And he gets to tell me how proud of me he is. He doesn't like to hang around at the cemetery—even though our ancestor who fought in the Revolutionary War is also buried there in the family plot—but I know where he hangs out. He likes a local sports bar. I take my phone—or a friend from the Krewe—with me and get a table there and talk with him to tell him about my cases... I never felt cursed. I just knew to be careful. And you—I'll bet that your story is similar."

Daniel smiled, shaking his head. "I'm afraid to tell you. I'm a bit of a late bloomer—when it comes to the talents needed by the Krewe. You may not think I'm worthy once I do."

She frowned. "You mean that you can't—"

"No, I can. But it's recent. I always knew there was something. I could feel it. I'd know when there was a presence there. But it was only recently, our last case, when we met an extremely helpful ghost and...I could suddenly see clearly and hear clearly and... Well, it's all new to me. I'm not an old pro like you and the rest of the team."

He was surprised when she smiled at him. "But it's different for everyone and sometimes comes in late—as it did for you—for many. That doesn't make it any less valid."

"Thanks," he said lightly. "Of course, that's why I put in to join Blackbird and why I'm so very grateful that Blackbird exists—and that we could figure out a way to get a Scot on the team!"

"The point of Blackbird is to be international," Jeannette told him. She frowned suddenly. "Paris. We're on ?le de la Cité—the oldest part of the city! Historians believe the area—an island in the middle of the Seine—had a Gallic settlement as early as 300 BC. The Lutetia and another Gallic tribe, the Parisii, were nearby, all establishing trade routes and more using the island. Then the Romans came in and then Germanic tribes. Then there were the Huns and the Franks and..."

Daniel laughed. "The point being there are surely millions of dead souls running around on ?le de la Cité alone. But remember, we can only speak with them when they want to speak with us."

Jeannette nodded. "We could sure use some help on this."

"And until we do have help, we need to help ourselves," Daniel said. "Remember, that's why our respective countries and their law enforcement agencies teach us about evidence, motive, profiling, investigation techniques..."

She smiled and nodded, not looking his way. "Right. Of course. I just wish..."

"What?"

"I would like to know more about what the medical and forensic teams have to say," she told him.

"Mason will give us everything he learns, you know that. We must watch a magician. We get to see a fun show. Gee, just like punishment!" he teased.

"All right, all right. It's just we get on these things, and it feels like we need to keep moving until we get somewhere."

"Abracadabra," he said. "Who knows. Maybe we'll magically come up with a clue!"

Jeannette smiled. "I guess today was disturbing. We thought we were looking at one thing, and it turns out we were looking at another. Though I would assume with today's tech, we'll get identification on the bodies we discovered today. Someone must have reported them as missing."

"Maybe."

"What do you mean? Everyone knows someone!"

"That's true, but...whoever is doing this deliberately left the bodies to be discovered. Right by the side of the road. Well, the most recent bodies. Maybe—assuming the same killer or killers—they were disappointed that their handiwork took so long to be found. But according to Shelley, the girls we have identified were here because they earned the trips themselves, because they were more or less on their own. As we were talking about before—there was no one incensed and determined to hound a police station daily about their missing friend or relative."

"No one cared at first," Jeannette murmured.

"Pardon?"

Jeannette turned to look at him. "I am sorry. Back to the Madame Báthory case. Supposedly, the first girls who were tortured and killed were just poor girls from the surrounding area who were lucky to be servants, even to a cruel mistress. It didn't matter back then if poor girls disappeared. I like to think that we've changed in that respect, but...sometimes, you know, a politician's kids or the child of a rich man goes missing and all the powers that be lose their minds. But as Krewe," she said firmly, "we won't let that happen. Anyway, this part is fairly shared by all historians and scholars—Madame Báthory was known to fly into rages; and according to historians, she possibly had fits or seizures. But that's not the point. The point is that no one cared when those girls disappeared. The case against her never made it into court until daughters of the lesser nobility—who were there to gain prestige, to learn courtly manners, whatever—began to disappear. And back to the point, back then—or even now—when you're someone , it seems people pay attention."

"All right, we have two people murdered in the past who were discovered today. We have no idea who they are as of yet. They were possibly tortured. Now we have three new victims. They were not tortured. The first victims were more or less hidden in the back of the fields, but the new victims were left just off the road. Theories are great, but again, we don't twist evidence to fit our theories," he reminded her.

"I know that," Jeannette assured him. "And I don't intend to fit anything into anything. And as you've said, we're not in Hungary, Slovakia, Transylvania or Romania. We're in France! Oh, and we're almost back to Paris! To see a magic show. Wow!" She glanced his way. "If only I were five!"

Daniel laughed. "Well, come on! We'll pretend we're five. Besides, this guy may be good."

"Who is this guy?"

"Monsieur Illusion Incroyable."

"Half French, half English?"

Daniel laughed. "Illusion—same in both languages. Incroyable —incredible."

"Ah, so Mister Incredible Illusion," Jeannette said.

"Exactly as they advertise in Paris for the English-speaking tourists. And you'll be glad to know we're almost there. Oh, by the way, Shelley told Gervais's son the magic show was one of the favorite things they did—agreed on by all."

"Did they meet the illusionist?"

"They did."

"Then we must, too."

"Way ahead of you. Mason signed us up for backstage passes after the show. And...Paris! We've returned—we're in the city, and once I fight traffic..."

"Don't fight traffic, just go with it!"

Daniel laughed again. "Don't worry. I'm driving like a Continental, I promise."

They reached the small theater where the marquee announced the amazing magician was having a three-month run. At the box office, he picked up their tickets.

"Nice. We're right up front," he told Jeannette.

"Where we can study his sleight of hand!" she said.

They found their seats, where they had a tremendous view of the stage. French rock songs began to play and the group playing was very good, the music making it immaterial as to what language the songs were being sung in.

Then the monsieur of incredible illusion made his entrance. He just suddenly appeared in a burst of silver-gray fog.

Trap door beneath him, easy enough!

He went on to introduce himself and his lovely assistant, a pretty brunette in a skimpy outfit consisting of a feathered bra-top and split skirt that glittered with her every movement.

Daniel studied the magician himself. He was in his late twenties or early thirties, old enough to appear experienced and capable, young enough to be charming and handsome. The stage was set with a glass-enclosed box, a trunk and several stands. And with sleight of hand, all eyes were on the magician as he spoke.

A man who could easily charm others.

He performed much of what might customarily be seen at such a show, but he called upon audience members frequently, pulling a rabbit from one woman's bag, a bird from the baseball cap of a young man and then introducing his special disappearing box—and calling on an audience volunteer.

Hands went up throughout the theater.

But the man stared straight at Jeannette, which was easy enough as they were seated in the second row.

"Mademoiselle? Will you be so kind?"

Daniel knew the magician had taken Jeannette by surprise; she was silent, just staring at him for several seconds.

Then she shrugged, gave the magician a brilliant smile and rose. She walked toward the stage as the audience gave her a round of applause.

He wasn't sure why he felt such a sudden grip of unease. They were at a magic show—in the company of perhaps five hundred audience members along with those working the show. And he knew it was ridiculous.

But they were investigating heinous murders.

And the master of illusion meant to make her disappear.

He gritted his teeth, well aware he would be an idiot to object.

And still...

Jeannette was charming on stage as she apologized for her poor use of the French language, but she managed pardonnez-moi and merci and her name just fine. She went on to explain she was there with him—her cousin—and she loved magic.

Then she was ushered into the box.

His assistant didn't appear to help with drapes to cover the box.

Rather, the same fog suddenly arose—and just as suddenly disappeared.

And the box was empty.

"Voilà!" the master illusionist declared and received tremendous applause from the audience.

"Où est la dame?" he demanded of his audience.

Where, indeed , part of him wondered with great anxiety.

And the agent within him knew it was an extra bonus in their work that Jeannette would understand the working methods in the magician's theater.

He clapped his hands, announcing in French that she would reappear.

The fog rose...

And fell.

There was no sign of Jeannette.

Daniel almost jumped out of his seat, logic reminding him the show was just one of many, many venues the girls had attended; a man wasn't going to take a chance of kidnapping, committing murder or even bloodletting in the front of such a crowd.

Except even the magician appeared to be frowning and seemed concerned as he repeated, "Où est la dame, où est la dame?"

Daniel jerked out of his seat. No help for it, he was growing more and more concerned.

Exactly! Where the hell is she?