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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