Bonnie

CHAPTER 2

Present Day

“THE DIRECTOR IS ON THE PHONE, Agent Venable.” Harley’s tone was hesitant. “He sounded a little-”

“Pissed?” Venable said. It didn’t surprise him. Dickson was not known for his patience, and Venable hadn’t been jumping through his hoops on this assignment. “I don’t want to deal with him. Tell him I’m-”

“It’s the third call,” Harley said.

“And you’re afraid he’ll shoot the messenger,” Venable said.

“I’ll give him whatever message you want me to give him,” Harley said. “But this time he asked me to give him Agent Ling’s cell number.”

Shit. “And did you?”

“I said I’d have to look it up.” He paused. “But he’ll get it.”

Venable knew that Hal Dickson, as Director of the CIA, would get any info he wanted if he went to the trouble. But the people who made him go to that trouble would suffer for it.

“Why does he want Agent Ling?” Harley said. “I told him that she was on another assignment.”

“And you think he cares? Some of those South American countries are on the verge of revolution, and the situation is getting critical. Catherine Ling spent several years serving in the jungles of Colombia and Venezuela. She has contacts, and people trust her all over South America. She can get information when no one else has a chance. Dickson knows that, and he wants her down there.”

“Are you going to order her to go back there?”

Order Catherine Ling? he thought sourly. He could ask her, but he hadn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of getting her to leave her son, Luke, whom she had just rescued from years of captivity. She’d tell him to go to hell.

Unless he could find a way to stall the director until he found a way to manipulate Catherine into doing what he wanted. At present, he had no hope because Catherine was on a private mission of her own, helping Eve Duncan find the body and the killer of her murdered daughter, Bonnie.

Not easy.

Okay, explain, stall, and maybe he’d get through with this without incurring Dickson’s anger. The director wasn’t a bad guy if you didn’t piss him off. Venable had known him before those politicians in Congress had made the Company the bogeyman in everyone’s eyes. Hell, let those jokers try to keep to their lily-white rules when every other country played dirty. He knew what pressure Dickson was under. Besides, there were times when he needed the bastard, and he wouldn’t have Catherine make him lose that influence if he could help it.

And he wouldn’t let Harley take the flak.

“I’ll talk to him.” He took out his phone and dialed Dickson while he pulled out Catherine Ling’s file from his desk. He probably wouldn’t need it. He had recruited her when she was seventeen, and if anyone really knew her, he should.

He gazed at her photo as he waited for Dickson to answer. This one was taken on the streets of Hong Kong, where she had grown up. Part Caucasian, part Asian, she was incredibly stunning, with her dark hair, gold skin, and faintly slanted eyes. But it wasn’t her looks that made her invaluable. She was one of the finest CIA agents Venable had ever recruited: smart, tough, deadly.

And loyal. Which was going to be the sticking point in getting her to leave Eve Duncan and Joe Quinn at this time.

“Where’s Catherine Ling?” Dickson demanded the moment he picked up the call. “I told you a week ago I wanted her in Peru.”

“She’s on another assignment.”

“Screw her assignment. Replace her.”

“That’s not exactly possible.”

“You’re refusing me.” Dickson was silent. “You’re not a fool, Venable. Sometimes I think I’m surrounded by fools, but you’re not one of them. Which means you have a reason to take a chance like that. Has Ling gone rogue?”

“No way.” He hesitated, then told the truth. “She thinks she has a debt to pay. Eve Duncan and Joe Quinn helped her to save her son, Luke. Now she’s trying to give Duncan what she wants most in life. She’s trying to find Bonnie Duncan’s body and the man who killed her. Nothing is going to budge her until she does it.”

Dickson muttered a curse. “Dammit, don’t you have any influence on her?”

“Not enough to stop her from doing this.”

“There has to be a way. Eve Duncan. Can you appeal to her?”

“No, you don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand, dammit. Why can’t this wait?”

“Because she’d tell me it’s waited too long already.” He might as well fill him in though it probably wouldn’t help. “Eve Duncan had this child when she was sixteen, the father was a Ranger in the Army and was reported dead. She didn’t have an abortion or give the kid up for adoption. She kept her. Part of the time, her mother helped take care of her, sometimes Bonnie was in a United Fund nursery while Eve worked. She did correspondence courses at night. She was almost finished when her daughter, Bonnie, disappeared. The police became certain that she was a victim of a serial killer. In fact, they’d thought they’d caught and executed him. Ralph Fraser. He’d killed other children, but he hadn’t killed Bonnie. Which meant Eve had no closure. She had to find her daughter’s killer. She had to bring her daughter home. It’s been the guiding obsession of her life. She has a long-term relationship with Joe Quinn, a police detective, who has helped her search for her daughter. She has an adopted daughter, Jane MacGuire, who is now an artist. But it’s the search for Bonnie that’s the center of her universe.”

“And she’s drawn Catherine Ling into that universe as a satellite,” Dickson said harshly. “Let her find her own kid.”

“She never asked Catherine to help her.” To hell with diplomacy. He’d known Eve Duncan for years, and she’d done favors both for him and the agency. She deserved better than Dickson’s condemnation. “Look, Eve Duncan pulls her own weight, and she’d keep Catherine out of it if she could.”

Silence. “You like her.”

“You’re damn right I do. She loved Bonnie more than life itself. Having her kidnapped and murdered could have destroyed her. She didn’t let it. She went back to school and earned a degree in Fine Arts at Georgia State. She now has certification as a computer age-progression specialist at the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children in Arlington, Virginia. She also received advanced certification for clay facial reconstruction after training with two of the nation’s foremost reconstruction artists. Do I have to tell you how many more degrees she’s earned since then? She’s world-famous, dammit. She’s an icon. Don’t you think she deserves to get this one thing she wants in the world?”

Another silence. “Maybe. But if she’s been searching all these years, why does Catherine Ling have to be involved? What makes her think that she can help?”

God, he was stubborn. But at least he was listening. That was a start.

“Catherine started investigating Bonnie’s kidnapping and came up with a suspect that no one had uncovered. John Gallo, Bonnie’s father, had not been killed while in the Army as reported. He’d been captured and thrown into a North Korean prison, where he’d been subjected to seven years of starvation and torture. When he escaped from the prison and landed in a hospital in Tokyo, he was diagnosed with severe mental problems, blackouts, schizophrenia, hallucinations…”

“Imagine that,” Dickson said sarcastically. “Poor bastard.”

“But a prime candidate for a suspect if he bore resentment toward Eve. What better revenge than killing her child?”

“Catherine’s reasoning?”

“Yes, sound reasoning. You agree?”

“Yes, so Catherine’s after Gallo?”

“She was, but after hunting him down, she decided that she might be wrong. So she decided to go after the two very dirty Army Intelligence officers who sent Gallo to Korea. Nate Queen and Thomas Jacobs. They were into smuggling artifacts and drugs and sent Gallo to retrieve an incriminating journal held by the North Koreans. He was just a patriotic nineteen-year-old kid at the time, and he thought he was doing his duty to his country. As I said, he was captured and thrown into that prison. It was years after he escaped and fought his way through a hell of a lot of mental problems that he became suspicious of Queen and Jacobs. He went after them.”

“I can see why he’d want to put them down for setting him up and letting the Koreans get him. But what the hell did that have to do with the killing of Eve Duncan’s little girl?”

Venable could understand Dickson’s impatience. The search for Bonnie Duncan’s killer had become as complicated as a spiderweb. Keep it as simple as you can. “Queen and Jacobs wanted to get rid of Gallo and remove a possible witness against them. They hired a contract killer, James Black, to go after him. But Gallo is very, very tough, and Black ended up with Gallo’s knife in his belly and egg on his face with his employers. Black was furious, and after he recovered, he started planning on hurting Gallo in any way he could.”

“So Black killed the kid?”

“That’s the way it looked, that’s what Gallo and Eve Duncan, Joe Quinn, and Catherine thought. They hunted him down in the Wisconsin woods.”

“And put him down? So what’s the problem? Catherine should be free now.”

“Except that Black swore before he died that he hadn’t killed Bonnie Duncan, that John Gallo had done it.” He paused. “Evidently he was very convincing. Both Eve Duncan and Gallo believed him.”

“Shit. You mean because Gallo had been having mental problems? You said he was experiencing blackouts.”

“Yes. Gallo thought he might have had one at that time and killed his daughter. He almost went crazy. He took off into the woods after he killed Black. Catherine went after him, hunted for weeks, and tracked him down.”

“But you said she changed her mind about Gallo’s killing the kid. Why?”

“How do I know? It was a judgment call. She just said that Eve and Gallo had been stupid to take the word of a murderer even if every instinct told them that he was telling the truth. They should have looked in another direction. The other direction was Queen and Jacobs. Black had been hired as a contract killer many times before by them. It wasn’t logical that they wouldn’t have known his intention to kill the little girl. Queen and Jacobs were regarding Gallo as a threat, and he had a history of mental problems. Kill the child and send him over the edge? There was a possibility that they’d been involved or hired someone else to kill Bonnie. So they went after them.”

Venable could almost feel Dickson’s frustration and impatience at the other end of the line. Well, suck it up, big man. He was almost finished.

“Nate Queen was killed over a week ago, and that left Thomas Jacobs. Catherine and Gallo tracked him to New Orleans, and she’s hoping either to force Jacobs to confess or get info from him about who did kill Bonnie Duncan. Gallo has rented a house on the bayou across the Mississippi, where they’re going to take Jacobs to interrogate him.”

“Then she should be able to tie this up soon,” Dickson said. “How soon?”

“I don’t know. The last I heard, Catherine had told Eve Duncan and Joe Quinn about Thomas Jacobs, and they were on their way to join Catherine and Gallo in New Orleans.”

“You don’t know?” Dickson asked. “Give me an estimate.”

Screw this. “I don’t have a crystal ball, dammit. It will be done as quickly as she can do it. When she gets the information, she’ll call me. As you can see, I’m not totally out of the loop.”

“That’s not good enough. Get into the middle of the loop,” Dickson said. “You take as many men as you need and go down to New Orleans and wrap this up. Keep me informed.” He hung up.

Venable pressed the disconnect and turned to Harley. “It seems we’re going to New Orleans. Now. Get me a pilot and plane. And check the weather. Catherine said the entire Gulf Coast has been fogged in for the last couple days.”

Harley reached for his phone. “Are you calling Catherine and telling her you’re coming?”

Venable thought about it. Catherine wouldn’t appreciate the interference and might react in a way that would make Dickson even angrier. It would be smarter to confront her face-to-face than long-distance. “I’ll call her when I get on the ground in New Orleans.”

“Which may not be any too soon.” Harley looked up from the weather app on his iPhone. “The fog has lifted over Mississippi, but it’s still blanketing Louisiana. We may have to take ground transportation out of Mobile.”

Venable muttered a curse as he got to his feet. “Then let’s get moving.”

Jefferson Parish, Louisiana

“THEY’RE COMING.” CATHERINE turned away from the window where she’d seen what she’d thought were Eve and Joe’s headlights. “At least I think they are. I can barely see the headlights in this fog. They should be here in a couple minutes.” She leveled a glance at Gallo. “And no matter what Joe says or does, you’re not to respond with any antagonism, do you understand?”

“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 caught in the middle before when we were trying to find Bonnie’s killer and ended up almost dying. He’s just out of the hospital. 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? Gallo, the father of her child; Joe, the man with whom she’d lived and loved for years. Catherine was already at the front door and throwing it open. “Come in out of this muck. 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 saw you.”

“I kept her on the run,” Gallo said from where he stood by the window. “But no more than she did me. It was quite a hunt.” His gaze shifted to Eve’s face. “Hello, Eve.”

She stiffened. “Hello, John.”

Joe stepped quickly forward. “Gallo.”

Gallo’s expression became 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.”

“Too bad. I don’t give a damn about you, Quinn. It was all about finding out who killed Bonnie. That’s still what it’s all about.”

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 bother.” Then Joe glanced at Eve. “But you may not be important enough for me to deal with right now, Gallo.”

Oh, shit. Catherine saw the 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 Thomas Jacobs.”

“Fine,” Catherine said. It was time to end this standoff. Joe and Gallo had too many of the same aggressive instincts, and the situation could become explosive. “If you want to ask Jacobs questions, then come upstairs and do it. Maybe you’ll have more luck than we did. He wasn’t talking.”

Gallo hesitated and gestured toward the stairs. “By all means. I was looking forward to questioning the bastard again 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.

Thomas Jacobs was still bound, spread-eagled on the bed, just as they had left him.

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 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 the 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? You didn’t get overenthusiastic with 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 open 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 this 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. 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 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 clinging to her body, and the soles of her bare feet were being scratched, cut, and bruised with every step.

Pain.

Her feet were bleeding.

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 into 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 down 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 who had killed Jacobs, the man who had killed Bonnie.

Dammit, what is wrong with me? Gallo thought in agony. Throw the knife.