“But Gallo may be closer.”
“Not for long, dammit,” she said through clenched teeth.
CHAPTER
4
“LET ME HELP YOU WITH THOSE bandages.” Eve knelt by Catherine’s chair and lifted her foot. “Those cuts look more annoying than serious.” She used the antiseptic, then laid it down again. “Though you shouldn’t have run after Gallo. We have to cleanse them again.”
“I can do this.” Catherine ran her fingers through her hair. “Everyone is treating me like an invalid. Gallo was—” She drew a deep breath. “Thanks, Eve. I’m a little upset.”
She was more than a little upset, Eve thought. Catherine valued her professional coolness, and she was not displaying that quality at the moment. Who could blame her? Eve was upset as well. Joe’s accusations had been very disturbing. “Just what did Gallo say to you?”
“I told you, no explanations.” She paused, watching Eve cleanse the cuts. “All he said is that he never meant me to be hurt. I believed him.”
“I saw his face,” Joe said from where he stood in the doorway. “And he could have thrown that knife before he did. Why are you being so stubborn?”
“Because I saw his face, too,” Catherine said. “Five minutes ago, when he told me that you were wrong and that he never meant me to be killed. I’ve got to go with what I think and feel.” She looked down at Eve. “But I believe Joe when he said that he could have thrown that knife before he did. Joe doesn’t make mistakes like that. And Gallo’s behavior is definitely suspect since he’s acting as weird as hell.” Her glance shifted to Joe. “We just have to figure out why he’s behaving like that.”
“Give me a few minutes alone with him, and we won’t have to bother figuring out anything.”
“We’d have to catch him to let you talk to him,” Eve said. “And maybe that’s why he took off. He didn’t want to cause any conflict.”
“Really?” Joe’s tone was skeptical. “I’ve never noticed he’s particularly peace-loving.” But he was studying Eve’s expression. “Are you weighing in with Catherine on this?”
“I’m trying to get to the bottom of what Gallo is up to. You can’t both be wrong. Since I trust both of you, there has to be a middle ground.” She finished bandaging Catherine’s feet and stood up. “And the middle ground has to have something to do with the man who killed Thomas Jacobs. Let’s start with him. Appearance. I caught only a fleeting glimpse. You said that you thought that you could give me a good enough description of his face for me to do a sketch, Catherine. We’ll leave that for later. He was thin, very thin. That’s my sole contribution.”
“And tall,” Joe said. “I couldn’t tell anything about his hair because it was covered by the hood of the wet suit. But he moved like an athlete, smooth, coordinated.”
“Age?” Eve asked.
Joe shrugged. “Not close enough.”
“Catherine?”
“Fifty, maybe.” Catherine frowned. “I’m not sure. There was something…”
“It may come back to you when we start the sketch.”
“Possible.”
“Now, motive?”
“He didn’t want Jacobs to talk to us. Jacobs was definitely afraid of someone. He thought he’d be killed if he talked. He told us that he wouldn’t have a chance.”
“Talked about what?” Eve asked.
“How the hell do I know? Bonnie’s death? What else could it be?” Catherine began to put on her socks and boots. “But we’d better start that sketch right away. I want to find that killer before Gallo does, and he has a head start.”
“Because you think Joe is right, and Gallo knew Jacobs’s killer,” she asked quietly.
Catherine nodded. “But that doesn’t mean he hired him to kill Jacobs. That didn’t happen, Eve.”
“It better not,” Eve said. “I want to give Gallo a chance, but if he was an accomplice in killing Jacobs, then that means everything he told me about dreaming about Bonnie while he was in that prison in North Korea was a lie. I was so damned touched when he said that dreams of her kept him alive.” Her lips tightened. “If it wasn’t true, that would mean I was a fool to think that he loved my daughter.”
“I can’t guarantee that anything he told you about Bonnie was true. Everything to do with Bonnie is strictly between the two of you.” Catherine made a face. “I’m limiting my investigating to things that can be proved.” She shifted her glance to Joe. “I’ve been told that I’m in the minority. I found it hard to believe that you were consorting with ghosts, Joe.”
“You have no idea.” Joe smiled faintly. “Someday, I’ll sit down and tell you a few tales that will cause your hair to curl.” His smile faded. “Don’t be too committed to reality, Catherine. It can trip you up.”
“I’m clinging to it with both hands. It’s comforting. Now, Eve, where do we get a sketch pad for you?”
“We don’t. But I have a loose-leaf notebook in my bag that I can use. It’s in the trunk of the car. I can make do with a regular pencil.”
“I’ll go get it.” Joe turned and moved toward the door. “I’ll be back in a— I hear a car.” He threw open the door. “I think the local sheriff’s department is here.”
Eve followed him and saw the two white cars with the Jefferson Parish Sheriff’s Department on the side drawing up before the house. “Venable got them here fast.”
“But I don’t want them coming in and finding Jacobs’s body,” Joe said. “That would prove awkward.”
“Awkward?” Catherine joined them at the door. “Yes, I think that would be a little awkward. Venable should be here soon with a CIA crew to do cleanup. Those cops were only told to do the forensic work that we wanted done on the truck.”
“Then I’ll keep them away from the house.” Joe moved toward the two police cars. “I’ll take them down the road to the Chevy.”
Eve and Catherine watched as he greeted the officers with smooth, friendly authority. A few minutes later he got into one of the patrol cars, and the two sheriff’s cars moved down the road.
“That’s going to take a while. We might as well get started.” Eve pulled out the keys and moved toward the rental car. She paused after she’d unlocked the trunk to look out at the bayou. “The fog is almost gone. Why couldn’t this have happened a few hours ago? It would have made everything so much easier.”
“You mean you don’t have a metaphysical reason for the fog, too?” Catherine shook her head. “I’ll shut up. I know this was difficult for you to share, and you don’t need me giving you a hard time.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She took the notebook out of the trunk and slammed it. “Actually, you took it better than I would have thought.” She glanced at Catherine. “And you’re under a strain that tends to exaggerate every emotion.”
“And you’re not?”
“Oh, yes. But it’s buried deep and just waiting to break free. I guarantee that you’ll know it when it does.” She turned toward the house. “Now let’s get this sketch started.”
* * *
“THAT’S ALL THAT WE CAN do before we haul the truck into the pound,” Detective Pierre Julian said to Joe. His words were spoken with professional courtesy, but the accent was pure Cajun. “Would you like us to do anything else? My captain said we were to cooperate with you in any way we could.”
“No, you’ve been very thorough.” It was true: Julian had gotten down to business as soon as they had reached the truck. His forensic team had swarmed all over it, but the investigation had still been done with great care. “I couldn’t have asked for a better team in Atlanta. You seem to have a hell of a lot of experience.”
“You think Atlanta’s the only place that can deal with crime?” Julian asked. “They may call New Orleans the Big Easy, but if we didn’t protect our city, the tourists wouldn’t find us that easy to come and visit.” He paused. “But we’re not used to calls from the CIA. Is this guy supposed to be a terrorist or something?”
“Or something.”
Julian shrugged. “Bad news. We’ve got to stop those creeps. I hear Homeland Security thinks they’re just walking over the Mexican border. You want me to take you back to the house?”