Bonnie

by Iris Johansen

  “Go on,” Joe said quietly. “Eve and I will be right behind you as soon as I figure out which—”

  But she didn’t hear the rest because she was already down the stairs and throwing open the front door.

  Swirling fog.

  Dampness.

  And the sudden splash of movement in the bayou.

  “Gallo!”

  “Here.”

  He was already in the water

  She took off her boots and socks, left her gun on the bank, and made sure her knife was firmly in its holster on her thigh. Then she jumped off the mossy bank and moved in the direction in which she’d thought she’d heard his voice.

  The water was only up to her waist that close to the bank, but she couldn’t be sure what was in the water with her. Everything from water moccasins to alligators frequented the bayous. Just be careful and look sharp. She couldn’t see anything at any distance, but she would be able to tell if one of those predators was within striking distance.

  Hell, she hated being blind in this dense mist. And Gallo would also be blind. They’d be lucky if they didn’t attack each other. But she didn’t want to call out again and draw possible fire.

  Or another wicked knife like the one in Jacobs’s chest.

  Move slowly, as silently as possible in the water.

  She listened.

  She couldn’t hear Gallo moving through the water. Not even a whisper of sound.

  Where was—

  “Catherine.”

  She jerked with shock. He was right beside her. His white shirt was plastered to his body, and his sheathed bowie knife was shoved into the waist of his black trousers.

  His gaze was fixed on the south. “He’s heading in that direction. Every now and then, I can hear him brush against something. Or he’ll startle a bird, and I’ll hear the wings…”

  Catherine started forward. “What are we waiting for?”

  “He’s very good. Damn good. We go too fast and lose his sound, and he could circle and come up behind us. There are times I can’t hear him at all. The bayou is deeper once you get a distance from the bank. He’s probably swimming.” He was silent again. “Do you hear that?”

  Birds moving from branch to branch.

  “He’s going southwest now.” He started forward. “You circle and see if you can come at him from the west. I’ll track him on the direct route.”

  “West,” she repeated as she started out. “You said Jacobs’s killer was so good. Yet we heard him plainly from Jacobs’s bedroom.”

  “He was in a hurry. He’d probably just finished knifing Jacobs when we were coming up the stairs. He needed to get in the water and away from the bank.”

  “And after those first few minutes, he felt safe and could take his time.”

  “As I said, he’s really good. Be careful, Catherine…” He disappeared into the mist.

  But that mist wasn’t as thick, she realized suddenly. Gallo had gone at least four yards before she had lost him. Maybe the fog was dispersing.

  She went a few more yards, her hopes rising with every step. They had gotten lucky. Yes, the mist was definitely lifting. They’d soon be able to see the bastard who had killed Jacobs.

  And the killer would be able to see them.

  * * *

  “THE FOG’S BEGINNING TO lift,” Joe said, as he and Eve reached the edge of the bayou. “That will help.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the car. “We can’t help Catherine much in that swamp. Come on, we’ll take the car and go along the road bordering the bayou. We didn’t see any sign of a car when we drove up to the house, so he must have parked up ahead and around the curve of the bayou. That’s where he’ll probably be heading.”

  Eve nodded as she got into the car. “Then why would he jump into—” She answered herself. “A false trail. So that we wouldn’t find his car.” A bold move, possibly a deadly move. Catherine and Gallo had followed him into the bayou and were trying to find him while lumbering blindly in the thick fog. Joe said it was lifting, but not enough.

  Please, let us have a break in this damn fog.

  “I’ll go slow. Hell, I have to go slow.” Joe had already started the car and hit the lights. “You keep an eye out. He could have come back to the bank anywhere along the road.”

  She nodded, her eyes straining as they tried to pierce the thick layers of fog hovering on the bank. She rolled down the window so that she could better hear anyone moving in the water. Her heart was pounding, and the muscles of her stomach were clenched with fear.

  She had a sudden memory of Bonnie’s face as she’d seen it earlier as they were driving here, drifting in the fog. Joe had thought that Eve might have imagined seeing the ghost of her daughter because of the stress she was under.

  It wasn’t imagination. She had seen Bonnie, a spirit so sad that it had broken Eve’s heart. Such terrible sadness.

  Why? Did Bonnie know what was going to happen and was sad for all of them. For what reason? The death of Jacobs?

  Or the death of someone else, someone whose death Bonnie knew would hurt Eve? A chill went through her at the thought. Not Joe. Please God, not Joe. You’ve just given him a new lease on life. Not Catherine, who had hardly started to know the meaning of joy and had a son who needed her. Not Gallo, who had perhaps suffered more than all of them.

  If this is the end, shouldn’t it be you and me, baby?

  “Eve.” His eyes were on the road ahead of him, but Joe’s voice was soft but clear. “It’s going to be all right. We’re going to get through this together.”

  She nodded jerkily. “I know, Joe.”

  Together. Yes, they’d be together, but maybe not right away.

  Eve could not forget the sadness in her daughter’s face.

  Let it be me, Bonnie.

  * * *

  CATHERINE STOPPED AND stood still in the water as she saw the pale, fog-shrouded glow of headlights on the road leaving from the direction of the house.

  Joe and Eve.

  Smart.

  They were betting that the man who had killed Jacobs had a car parked somewhere on that road bordering the bayou. It was reasonable that he’d be heading across the bayou in the direction where he’d left it.

  She tried to pull up a mental picture of the curve of the road around the bayou. Gallo had said the terrain was shaped like a hook …

  And Gallo had told her that they should go southwest.

  And sent her west.

  But the hook of land surrounding the bayou extended to the east. That would be where that car would be parked. Southeast. And Gallo was heading due south.

  And would probably soon veer to the southeast.

  Damn him.

  Anger was seething through her. The son of a bitch was trying to protect her. Who the hell did he think he was? She was every bit as competent a professional as he. She should have slapped that damn macho tendency down as soon as it raised its head. Now it was getting in the way of her job.

  And could get them both killed.

  But not if she could help it.

  She turned and headed southeast.

  * * *

  JACOBS’S KILLER WAS definitely heading southeast toward the hook of land bordering the bayou, Gallo thought.

  He could hear him, and, if he got lucky, soon he might be able to see him.

  The fog was lifting for a few seconds, hovering, then closing down again. All he’d need would be those few seconds to draw his knife and hurl it.

  If he was close enough.

  And he would be close enough.

  He could feel the excitement and tension searing through him. Another hunt. But this was nothing like the hunt with Catherine. Even in the darkest hours of those days, he’d known that it was different from anything he’d ever experienced. There might have been lethal danger, but it had been coupled by challenge. This hunt was different. No beautiful, sleek panther who could turn and rend him in the flash of an eye.

  This was only prey.

  And
the sounds of the prey were approaching closer to that far bank.

  The fog lifted …

  Gallo caught a swift glimpse of the shadowy bank, a gnarled cypress tree dipping its roots in the water, Spanish moss hanging from another tree near—

  Near a gleam of metal. A car?

  He couldn’t be sure. The fog had closed in again, dammit.

  But that gleam of metal was a little too opportune. The bank had to be the prey’s destination.

  He began to carefully, silently, swim toward it.

  * * *

  CATHERINE PULLED HERSELF from the water onto the bank. Now that she had a destination, she could move faster over ground. She should be somewhere near the road, and the car would probably not be parked on the road itself but hidden in the shrubbery.

  She moved swiftly through the heavy palmettos and shrubbery that bordered the bank. Her sopping-wet clothes were clinging to her body, and the soles of her bare feet were being scratched, cut, and bruised with every step.

  Pain.

  Her feet were bleeding.

  Ignore it. Block everything out. Concentrate on the job.

  She had to find Jacobs’s killer before he got away.

  Find the car. Wait for him to show.

  But she had to be careful. She couldn’t kill the bastard even though it would be safer.

  Eve still needed him. Eve still had to know about her Bonnie.…

  * * *

  EVE STRAIGHTENED IN HER seat. “I saw someone.”

  Joe tensed. “Where?”

  “He’s gone now. I only got a glimpse. This damn fog. Not close. Around that bend. I saw someone climbing out of the water onto the bank.”

  “Gallo? Catherine?”

  She shook her head. “He was thin, wearing a dark blue or black wet suit.”

  “Around that bend?” Joe pulled to the side of the road. “Then we go the rest of the way on foot. We still have to use the lights, and we don’t want to scare him off.” He got out of the car. “I can do this alone, Eve.”

  “No, you can’t.” She jammed her hand into the pocket of her Windbreaker and gripped her .38 revolver. A weapon to protect Joe as Joe had always protected her. Would it do any good? The more time that passed, the greater the cold dread that was icing through her.

  She got out of the car and joined him as he strode into the brush bordering the bayou. “You said together, Joe.”

  * * *

  HE HAD HIM.

  A man in a dark wet suit, tall, thin, moving quickly along the bank toward the gleam of metal that Gallo had identified as a vehicle.

  Yes.

  Gallo unsheathed his knife as he stood up in the shallow water near the bank.

  Dammit.

  The prey had disappeared as a fresh billow of fog descended.

  No, there he was again. He was moving with a lithe jauntiness as if he had all the time in the world.

  You don’t have any time at all, bastard.

  Bring him down permanently or just wound him? Gallo thought as he raised the knife and lined up the target. It would depend on how long he had before the fog settled down once—

  Oh, my God.

  No!

  His hand holding the knife fell nervelessly to his side as he stared in horror at the man in the wet suit.

  No. No. No.

  Not prey at all.

  But the man had sighted prey of his own, Gallo realized.

  His stance had changed and now he was in stalking mode. He’d drawn a knife from the holster at his waist.

  Stalking whom?

  Catherine.

  Catherine, standing at the edge of the trees. Catherine, setting her own trap for the man who had killed Jacobs, the man who had killed Bonnie.

  Dammit, what is wrong with me? Gallo thought in agony. Throw the knife.

  CHAPTER

  3

  IT WASN’T A NEW VEHICLE, Catherine noticed as she cautiously approached. It was a beat-up blue Chevy truck and the tires looked worn, almost bald.

  No sign of the driver of the truck.

  She’d been listening and hadn’t heard anyone come out of the bayou.

  But she might not have been able to hear him. Gallo had said this creep was good. She trusted Gallo’s judgment.

  When it didn’t concern his damned chauvinistic attitude toward her.

  She stopped. She’d been tempted to check out the license plate and the glove box of the truck. Not smart. Better to wait and do all that later. Now she should wait and watch and listen.

  Not much watching with this fog, but she could listen.

  No sound.

  The fog had come in again, and the truck was only a hazy outline before her. But she’d probably have company soon. Just wait and pounce when he came on the bank.

  She stiffened. Something was wrong. She felt it. The hair on the back of her neck was tingling.

  * * *

  “THERE’S SOMEONE OVER there in the trees.” Joe grabbed Eve’s arm and pulled her to a halt. His eyes narrowed. “I think it’s Catherine.” He froze. “Oh, shit.”

  She could see why he was cursing as she saw the tall man in the wet suit directly behind Catherine. Nothing could be clearer than that he was on the attack.

  “I can’t get a clear shot,” Joe said with frustration as he put his gun down. “He’s right behind her. I’ll shoot her, dammit.” He moved to the side. “I’ll see if I can get him from another angle. Don’t call out and startle him. I don’t want to have him move on her before I can get my shot.”

  If there was enough time.

  It was going to be Catherine, Eve realized in agony. Catherine was the one who was going to die. And Eve had to stand there and watch it happen. She couldn’t even cry out and warn her.

  But Catherine had been with Gallo in the bayou. Why wasn’t he there?

  Dammit, where was Gallo?

  * * *

  THROW THE KNIFE.

  Gallo’s hand was frozen on the hilt.

  He had to move, but he couldn’t do it. Not this time.

  It was as if everything were happening in slow motion.

  He could see Catherine stiffening and knew those wonderful instincts with which he’d become so familiar were in play.

  She knew.

  Even as he watched, he saw her whirl and start to drop to the ground as she saw her attacker.

  Too late.

  He was already on Catherine, his knife raised.

  It was coming down.

  She was going to die.

  “No!” The agonized cry tore from Gallo’s throat.

  He threw the knife.

  * * *

  DEAR GOD, HE’S FAST, Catherine thought as she reached for the knife in the holster on her thigh.

  Fall. Roll. Then stab the bastard in the gut.

  But he was over her, his dagger coming down and—

  He screamed as a bowie knife pierced the hand holding the knife and came out the other side!

  Gallo’s bowie knife. She recognized it. And Gallo standing in the water several yards from the bank.

  It gave her enough time to roll away and get her knife out of the holster.

  “Dammit, get out of the way, Catherine.”

  She glanced toward the trees. Joe. Trying to get his shot.

  She rolled to the side.

  The man in the wet suit was cursing as he turned and ran toward the bayou, bent low and zigzagging.

  A shot.

  Missed.

  Then he was in the water. He reached out and jerked out the dagger piercing his hand, and threw it aside as he dove beneath the surface.

  Catherine jumped to her feet and was at the bank of the bayou in seconds.

  “Gallo, get him!” she called as she jumped off the bank into the water.

  Gallo didn’t answer, and she couldn’t see him. The fog had come down again.

  “Catherine, no!” Joe was suddenly standing on the bank beside the cypress tree. “Come back. Don’t take a chance. Don’t trust him.
”

  Of course, she wasn’t going to trust that murderer. He’d just tried to kill her. “He’s okay, Joe. Gallo’s somewhere out here, too. We’ll get the bastard. He’s wounded and losing blood.” She was starting to swim away from the bank. “Gallo!”

  “Catherine, listen to me.” Joe’s voice was harsh, his fists clenched at his sides. “It’s Gallo I’m talking about. I saw his face. He wasn’t going to throw that knife. He wasn’t going to save you. Gallo didn’t care if you lived or died.”

  Shock went through her. “No, you’re wrong, Joe. He did save me. Look, I can’t talk.” She began swimming faster. “I’ll blow my chance of getting that bastard. You’d better jump in the car and patrol the road. He might try to get out of the water as soon as he can. The blood is going to draw alligators.”

  “Catherine!”

  She couldn’t see him any longer. She was surrounded by the thick, heavy mist that felt as if it was going to smother her. She suddenly felt very much alone. But she wasn’t alone. There was a murderer out there who had been within an instant of killing her. Was he close? He could be only yards away from her and she wouldn’t know it. It would be smart of him to lie in wait and ambush any pursuers. It was probably what she would have done.

  Her heart was beating hard, she could feel her pulse jumping in her throat.

  She stopped swimming and listened.

  She heard … something, a displacement of water … Where had it come from? Dammit, where was Gallo? She could have used someone to watch her back.

  Gallo doesn’t care whether you live or die.

  She heard the sound again. Closer.

  She tensed, her hand reached down and grabbed her knife.

  Come and see what’s waiting for you, son of a bitch. I’ve been on my own all my life. What was I thinking? I don’t need any help from Gallo or anyone else.

  Come and get me.

  * * *

  SHE LISTENED AGAIN. She thought she heard the sound of moving water to the north.

  To hell with staying and waiting for him to come after her. Go on the attack. She started swimming toward the sound.

  “No!” Gallo was suddenly beside her. “Let him go. Do you want to get killed? He almost had you.”