Bonnie - Iris Johansen [9]
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