“I understand that you’re expecting a lot from me.” He got up from the chair and crossed to the window. “I believe you’re talking about diplomacy. We both know that’s not my forte.”
No, it wasn’t, and she could already see that familiar trace of recklessness in his face. “I’m not having it, Gallo. Joe was the victim, and you can be patient if he’s pissed at you.”
“And if I’m not, then you’ll go after me yourself. I believe you’re proving that you’re protective of more people than your son,” Gallo said. “But I admit I like it better when it’s me you’re protecting.” He watched Joe and Eve get out of the car. “Do you want me to go and greet them?”
And watch Eve have to handle the confrontation between the two men who had shaped her life? Catherine was already at the front door and throwing it open. “Come in out of this mess,” she called. “I wish I could offer you a cup of coffee, Eve. But we’re limited to bouillon.” She made a face. “Not even good bouillon.” She turned to Joe. “You look wonderful.” She gave him an appraising glance. “Maybe you’ve lost a little weight. But I knew you’d make it.”
“That’s more than I did.” Eve gave her a quick hug. “And you’ve lost a pound or two yourself since I last saw you.”
“I kept her on the run,” Gallo said from where he stood by the window. “But no more than she did me.” His gaze shifted to Eve’s face. “Hello, Eve.”
She stiffened. “Hello, John.”
Joe stepped quickly forward. “Gallo.”
Gallo’s expression was wary. “Hello, Quinn. Am I going to have problems with you?”
“I’m not sure,” Joe said coolly. “You deserve them. You’ve been getting in my way since the moment you decided to come back into Eve’s life.”
The two men were like two lions, arching, frozen in place but ready to attack, Catherine thought. She took a step forward, then stopped. They’d have to work it out for themselves sometime. It might as well be now.
But Gallo had seen that movement from the corner of his eye. “Catherine says I have to be diplomatic since I’m the one who has been causing all the trouble. She’s about to step in and take me out.”
“I’d be glad to save her the trouble.” Then Joe glanced at Eve. “But you may not be important enough for me to be bothered with right now, Gallo.”
Oh, shit. Catherine saw that flicker of recklessness appear in Gallo’s expression again.
He said, “Perhaps I could up the ante, and that would make you think I’m—”
“Stop it.” Eve stepped forward between the two men and faced Gallo. “Catherine said that Jacobs knows who killed Bonnie. That’s all I care about. If you love Bonnie as much as you say, then that’s all that you should care about, too.” She paused. “I thought it was you, John. I’m still not certain it’s not. Prove it to me.”
“Yes, prove it to her, Gallo,” Joe said. “I think we need to talk to Jacobs.”
“Fine,” Catherine said. “We’ve been waiting for you.” She turned toward the stairs. “If you want to ask Jacobs questions, then come upstairs and do it. Maybe you’ll have more luck than we did.”
Gallo hesitated and gestured toward the stairs. “By all means, I was looking forward to questioning the bastard myself, but I’ll forgo the pleasure. Catherine has already pointed out that I need to be kind and diplomatic to guests.”
“And you’re doing what she wants.” Eve was gazing at him searchingly as she started up the stairs. “I find that curious.”
“Do you?” He smiled. “But can’t you see I’m terrified of your friend Catherine?”
Catherine made a rude sound. “Shut up, Gallo.” She turned to Joe. “Jacobs is going to cause us trouble. I hope he’ll be more cooperative now that he’s had time to think.”
“He’ll be cooperative,” Joe said grimly as he moved past her up the stairs. “Tell me what he’s told you so far. No, on second thought, let me start fresh.”
“Lord, it’s chilly up here.” Eve shuddered as they reached the bedroom door. “What are you doing, Catherine? Are you trying to freeze information out of him?”
Catherine frowned. “It wasn’t this chilly before.” She opened the door. “I don’t know why it would—”
“Dear God!” Eve took a step back, her gaze on the bed. “Catherine?”
Catherine’s gaze followed Eve’s. She went rigid. “No. Eve, no. We didn’t— Gallo!”
There was water on the floor around the bed.
Jacobs was still bound, spread-eagled on the bed.
And there was a knife sticking upright in his chest.
“Shit!” Gallo pushed by them and ran to the bed. Jacobs’s mouth was still taped, and his eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling. Gallo checked the pulse in his throat, but they all knew it wasn’t necessary. “Dead. But how the hell—”
“The window.” The sheer white drapes were blowing from the open window, and Catherine was there in a heartbeat. “We were downstairs. He had to have come in the window.”
Dammit, she could see nothing through the heavy fog.
But she could hear something.
The splash of water being moved, the sound of suction in the mud …
“He’s in the bayou!”
“Heading south.” Gallo had already swung his legs over the sill and was climbing hand over hand down the side of house to the roof of the porch.
Gallo might think he was Spider-Man, but she’d make almost as good time going down to the front door and wouldn’t risk falling and breaking her neck, Catherine thought. She turned and was running out the room when Joe grabbed her arm and spun her around.
“One question,” he said.
“I don’t have time, Joe.”
“You have time for this one.” His glance shifted to Jacobs. “This isn’t some con you set up to convince us that Gallo was innocent? He didn’t get overenthusiastic and stick that knife in Jacobs?”
Her eyes widened. “I wouldn’t do that, Joe.”
His expression didn’t lose its hardness. “I wouldn’t think that you would, but I wouldn’t think you’d be so dedicated to exonerating Gallo either. I don’t know what’s going on with you, Catherine.”
She tore herself away from him, her eyes blazing. “And you think because he once managed to convince Eve that he was the sun and the moon, that he’d dazzle me so that I’d lie for him? No way, Joe. He didn’t kill Jacobs, and neither did I. We were both downstairs waiting for you. Whoever did this must have followed us from the casino.” She turned on her heel. “And now I’m going to go into that bayou and try to catch the son of a bitch.”
“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 up 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 the 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 m
oving 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 to view. 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 John 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. Sadness. Such sadness.
Why? 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 plastered to her body, and the soles of her bare feet were being scratched and bruised with every step.
Pain.
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 in 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 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 in the wet suit, 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.
* * *
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.
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