Bonnie - Iris Johansen [16]
“A ghost?”
Eve slowly nodded. “I don’t expect you to accept the idea. It took me years to come to terms with it.”
“Eve…” Catherine reached out and took her hand. “I admire you, I trust you, I believe in you. I just can’t believe in this particular.”
“You didn’t believe that Gallo was innocent of Bonnie’s death at first. But now you’re willing to fight for him.” She smiled. “And that’s a good sign for an eventual understanding.”
“Don’t count on it. We’ll just agree to disagree. I can’t promise that I’ll ever—” She broke off and whirled toward the bayou. “I heard something.”
Eve did, too. And the next moment, she saw Gallo stand up in the shallow water and wade toward the bank. She felt a rush of relief. He looked tired and discouraged, but he wasn’t hurt.
“No sign of him?” she asked as he levered himself out of the water.
“No. He got away.”
“Joe said he heard a motorboat in the inlet,” Catherine said. “Did you?”
“Yes,” he said. “Where’s Quinn?”
“He’ll be here in a few minutes. He just called.”
“Good, I want to get back to the house.”
“You said you heard the motorboat. Did you see him?”
“Yes, but he was halfway across the bayou, then he was lost in the fog.” He glanced at the truck. “Have you searched it?”
Catherine shook her head. “No, I called Venable, and he’s going to arrange to get a forensic detail out here. Though I don’t know what our chances are of getting prints.”
“Nil,” he said flatly. “Maybe trace evidence.”
“You seem very certain,” Eve said.
“Do I?” He got to his feet. “As certain as I can be under the circumstances. I’d judge he wouldn’t leave a trail.”
“We may not be able to ID him from prints, but Catherine saw him. I may be able to do a sketch from her description. Could you help? Did you get a good look at his face?”
“No, sorry. You think there’s a good possibility that you’ll be able to get a close enough resemblance?” He glanced at Catherine. “You’ll remember him?”
“I’ll remember him,” she said quietly.
He looked away from her face, and his gaze traveled up and down her body. “You look almost dry.”
She shrugged. “I took my clothes off and wrung them out. You should do the same.”
He shook his head. “I’ll change when I get back to the house.” He turned his head toward the road. “I think I hear Quinn.”
Eve nodded as the car came around the bend of the road. “That’s Joe.” She watched Joe park on the side of the road and called to him as he walked down the slope toward the bank. “Gallo heard the motorboat, too, Joe, but it was moving out of sight when he got to the inlet.”
“That’s convenient.”
Gallo stiffened. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
“He saved Catherine’s life, Joe,” Eve said quietly. “I think we can do without antagonism and accusations.”
“Yes, he saved her life.” Joe’s gaze met Gallo’s. “But why did he wait until he had to target the hand instead of another part of the body? That was an incredibly difficult throw. If he’d missed, it could have been all over for Catherine.”
“Perhaps he’d just arrived on the scene,” Catherine said. “Gallo wouldn’t have deliberately chosen to—”
“Gallo was standing in the water watching his approach,” Joe said flatly. “I saw him while I was moving in the brush to take my shot. He was watching, not moving, not lifting his knife. He acted as if he were frozen.”
“I took him out,” Gallo said.
“Barely,” Joe said. “A knife between the shoulder blades would have been a hell of a lot more efficient.”
“And would have run the risk of leaving him dead and unable to be questioned. Ask Eve how she would feel about that.”
“You’re saying that you deliberately risked Catherine on the altar of leaving that killer alive to tell us what we need to know.” Joe shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think you had another agenda.”
“And that would be?”
“I don’t know yet.” He paused. “Of course, you could have been going to let Catherine be killed, but