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.