Blood on the Bayou: A Cafferty & Quinn Novella by Heather Graham Page B

buzz, but no answer.
    “I thought he was back there,” the receptionist said. “I had a list of items that needed to be attended to on my desk this morning.”
    “You mean you haven’t seen him all day?” Danni asked.
    “I don’t disturb Mr. Grayson,” she said. “If you’ll just wait a minute, I’ll see what’s keeping him.”
    The receptionist started down a hallway. Danni held back, and then followed behind her. A knock on a closed door went unanswered so the woman opened it.
    And screamed.
    Danni ran up behind her and looked in, expecting to see a dead man.
    But there was no one there.
    Only a massive pool of blood spilled over Grayson’s desk, dripping onto the rich beige carpet in little crimson waves.
     

Chapter 4
    Quinn and Larue arrived at the offices of Byron Grayson at about the same time. Larue was accompanied by sirens blazing and Quinn with Father Ryan and Wolf. He left the priest and the dog on the street and hurried into the realtor’s office. Danni sat in the waiting area, her arms around the shoulders of a young woman, shaking with fear. Larue was hunkering down to talk to her as the forensic people worked in Grayson’s office.
    “All day, I was sitting there. All day,” the woman said. “And something like this was happening.” She turned wide eyes to ask a question, but not to Larue. Instead, to Danni. “Oh, my God, the rougarou . It’s real and came into the city. It rushed by me when I wasn’t looking and ate poor Mr. Grayson while I was sitting right out at the reception area.”
    “There’s a lot of blood in there,” Danni told the girl. “But that doesn’t mean that a rougarou went by you—”
    “Oh, but it had to have gone by me. Oh, my God, it could have eaten me. Do you think that it came in through a window? Can a rougarou crawl on walls? Maybe it was in here all night? But it had to have waited to eat him. He left instructions on my desk. You see, I never bother him. What he needs he tells me, and I announce clients, and they come out. Don’t think he’s a mean man. He isn’t mean at all. He’s a great boss. He just works best that way. Says he’s like a really old computer, though he still doesn’t understand computers completely. And he only likes to have one window open at a time. He has to be dead. Mr. Grayson. Eaten. Oh, oh, how horrible.”
    She began to sob.
    Quinn walked over to the waiting room sofa and hunkered down by Larue. “Miss—”
    “Jensen, Belinda Jensen,” the woman murmured.
    “When did you last see your boss?” Quinn asked.
    “Last night, closing time. But I know he was here this morning. He left paperwork for some closings on my desk.”
    “But you didn’t see him all day?” Larue asked.
    Belinda shook her head. “But that’s not unusual. Mr. Grayson stays in his office, sometimes without me seeing him. I just announce things to him through the intercom. He comes out as soon as he can when we have clients. Every once in a while he comes out and says let’s go to lunch. He’s a good boss. But when he’s working, he’s working.”
    One of the forensic techs stepped back into the waiting room and grabbed Larue’s attention. The detective stepped over to the young man. Quinn rose too and walked toward the tech and Larue.
     “It’s all right. Mr. Quinn is working this with us,” Larue said to the tech. “What is it?”
    They were all thinking that Byron Grayson, a realtor, frequently in a suit, might be their first victim. But Grayson couldn’t be the body they’d found in the swamp. Grayson was an older man. Their corpse had been that of a man in his thirties. So neither victim had yet to be identified.
    “It’s not human blood,” the tech said. “We’re not sure what it is, but it’s not human blood.”
    “Not sure what it is? Paint or something like that?” Larue asked.
    “No, it’s blood, all right. Just not human.”
    “Animal?”
    “Has to be. We’re just not sure what kind of animal.”
     
    * * *