Quinn - Iris Johansen [122]
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.
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. She didn’t have quite as keen perceptions as Gallo. And he 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?
* * *
THANK GOD, THAT BASTARD WAS moving slow, Joe thought as he ran quickly through the brush. He just had to hope that nothing would startle him into leaping forward toward Catherine.
But the angle where he was standing now was still bad for an accurate shot, and he couldn’t get closer because the bank curved there.
The cypress tree. He should have a chance of a clear shot from there.
He shoved his gun into the waistband of his pants and started to shinny up to the first branch.
Fast.
Faster.
The man in the wet suit was starting to move more quickly toward Catherine.
Joe was drawing his gun as he pulled himself onto the branch.
Clear shot.
But