Bonnie (4 page)

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.

CHAPTER

3

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. Gallo 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?

*   *   *

THROW THE KNIFE.

Gallo’s hand was frozen on the hilt.

He had to move, but he couldn’t do it. Not this time.

It was as if everything were happening in slow motion.

He could see Catherine stiffening and knew those wonderful instincts with which he’d become so familiar were in play.

She
knew.

Even as he watched, he saw her whirl and start to drop to the ground as she saw her attacker.

Too late.

He was already on Catherine, his knife raised.

It was coming down.

She was going to die.

“
No!
” The agonized cry tore from Gallo’s throat.

He threw the knife.

*   *   *

DEAR GOD, HE’S FAST,
Catherine thought as she reached for the knife in the holster on her thigh.

Fall. Roll. Then stab the bastard in the gut.

But he was over her, his dagger coming down and—

He screamed as a bowie knife pierced the hand holding the knife and came out the other side!

Gallo’s bowie knife. She recognized it. And Gallo standing in the water several yards from the bank.

It gave her enough time to roll away and get her knife out of the holster.

“Dammit, get out of the way, Catherine.”

She glanced toward the trees. Joe. Trying to get his shot.

She rolled to the side.

The man in the wet suit was cursing as he turned and ran toward the bayou, bent low and zigzagging.

A shot.

Missed.

Then he was in the water. He reached out and jerked out the dagger piercing his hand, and threw it aside as he dove beneath the surface.

Catherine jumped to her feet and was at the bank of the bayou in seconds.

“Gallo, get him!” she called as she jumped off the bank into the water.

Gallo didn’t answer, and she couldn’t see him. The fog had come down again.

“Catherine, no!” Joe was suddenly standing on the bank beside the cypress tree. “Come back. Don’t take a chance. Don’t trust him.”

Of course, she wasn’t going to trust that murderer. He’d just tried to kill her. “He’s okay, Joe. Gallo’s somewhere out here, too. We’ll get the bastard. He’s wounded and losing blood.” She was starting to swim away from the bank. “Gallo!”

“Catherine, listen to me.” Joe’s voice was harsh, his fists clenched at his sides. “It’s Gallo I’m talking about. I saw his face. He wasn’t going to throw that knife. He wasn’t going to save you. Gallo didn’t care if you lived or died.”

Shock went through her. “No, you’re wrong, Joe. He did save me. Look, I can’t talk.” She began swimming faster. “I’ll blow my chance of getting that bastard. You’d better jump in the car and patrol the road. He might try to get out of the water as soon as he can. The blood is going to draw alligators.”

“Catherine!”

She couldn’t see him any longer. She was surrounded by the thick, heavy mist that felt as if it was going to smother her. She suddenly felt very much alone. But she wasn’t alone. There was a murderer out there who had been within an instant of killing her. Was he close? He could be only yards away from her and she wouldn’t know it. It would be smart of him to lie in wait and ambush any pursuers. It was probably what she would have done.

Her heart was beating hard, she could feel her pulse jumping in her throat.

She stopped swimming and listened.

She heard … something, a displacement of water … Where had it come from? Dammit, where was Gallo? She could have used someone to watch her back.

Gallo doesn’t care whether you live or die.

She heard the sound again. Closer.

She tensed, her hand reached down and grabbed her knife.

Come and see what’s waiting for you, son of a bitch. I’ve been on my own all my life. What was I thinking? I don’t need any help from Gallo or anyone else.

Come and get me.

*   *   *

SHE LISTENED AGAIN.
She thought she heard the sound of moving water to the north.

To hell with staying and waiting for him to come after her. Go on the attack. She started swimming toward the sound.

“No!” Gallo was suddenly beside her. “Let him go. Do you want to get killed? He almost had you.”

“Let him go? Screw that. Listen. Do you hear him?”

“I don’t hear anything.”

And she didn’t either. He was gone. Or it could have been Gallo that she had heard.

“He’s wounded. He’s losing blood. He could be getting weaker,” she said. “But did you see him tear your knife out of his hand? He acted as if he didn’t even feel it.”

“Adrenaline. He’ll feel it later.” He started swimming toward the north. “I’ll see if I can zone in on him. You go back to shore and take Quinn and Eve in the car and see if he comes ashore again farther up the road. He’d be crazy to stay in the water with the blood attracting gators.”

“That’s what I told Joe. He may already be on the road.”

“Or he may not. You don’t want Quinn to come into the bayou after him. He may have been a SEAL, but I’d think you’d be worried about him having a relapse or getting an infection.”

She was worried because that would be Joe’s first instinct. He was going to be frustrated as hell because he hadn’t been able to pick off Jacobs’s killer.

Who had almost been her killer.

She nodded. “I agree he’ll probably try to come to shore again. It would be the smartest thing to do since he’s wounded.”

“Then go back and stop him.”

She shot him a glance. “You don’t want me here. Why?”

He turned away. “I can do it by myself.”

She stiffened. “So can I.”

“Then suit yourself. You’ll do what you have to do anyway.”

He swam off and was lost in the mist.

She was alone again.

He doesn’t care whether you live or die.

She hesitated, then started swimming in the same direction that Gallo had vanished.

Every few yards, she’d stop, listen, and swim again. At the end of forty-five minutes she was discouraged and frustrated. She was hearing nothing but the common sounds of the swamp, birds, insects, and occasionally something more heavy and threatening.