Quinn - Iris Johansen [120]
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 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 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