Iris Johansen: Bonnie

“No. And Venable has no real reason to come down here. He knows I can take care of it. Which means that he has another reason to move in.”

“You’re obviously valuable to him.” He was gently patting her foot dry. “He wants to make sure nothing happens to you.”

His hands were warm through the terry of the towel, and his position at her feet and the action itself were unbearably intimate. She felt a rush of heat go through her.

Not now. The searing sensuality was unexpected, and she felt the tensing that was now familiar. Pull away from him.

She didn’t move. She watched him slowly move the terry over her foot. Each stroke was causing her to tense, the blood to rush beneath the skin at his touch. “Venable isn’t that protective. He wants something.”

“What?” He placed her foot on the floor and lifted her other foot from the water. He began to dry the top, then cradled it in the towel. “You have beautiful feet.”

“No feet are beautiful. Some of them are just not ugly.”

“You’re wrong.” His hands tightened around her foot, his eyes focused on the towel. “I never dreamed I had a foot fetish. I keep thinking where I’d like to put-” He drew a deep breath. “That’s not where I meant this to go.” He began to dry her foot again. “I’m constantly becoming distracted when I’m around you.”

“Where did you mean it to go?” she asked unevenly. “I’m curious to know, Gallo.”

“I wanted to tell-” He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. “I never wanted him to kill you, Catherine. No matter what Quinn says, I’d never do that. You trusted me when no one else did, when I didn’t even have faith in myself. I was planning on taking him out earlier. I thought I’d have time. But then everything went to hell.”

“Why?”

“I wasn’t expecting him-” He broke off and threw the towel aside. “Shit.” He jumped to his feet. “I never meant it to be that close, Catherine. But I had to target his hand. I tried, but I couldn’t do anything-” He was striding to the door. “But I wouldn’t have let him hurt you. I couldn’t stand that either.” He looked at her over his shoulder, and she was shocked at the torment she saw on his face. “That damn Quinn was right about almost everything else, but he was wrong about that. Believe me, Catherine.”

Before she could answer, he was gone.

She collapsed back in the chair and drew a shaky breath. She felt vulnerable and hot and bewildered. Those moments with Gallo had been explosive, and she had not come out well. She had responded, not been aggressive. She had not been in control. She should have asked him questions instead of trying to puzzle him out and being swayed by what he was clearly feeling.

What she was feeling.

Dammit, she’d have to go after him and make him-

She heard the sound of a car starting outside.

“No!” She jumped to her feet and ran out of the kitchen, down the hall, and threw open the front door.

Gallo was already driving the car out of the driveway and toward the road.

“Gallo!”

He didn’t answer, and, the next moment, the car disappeared around the curve of the road.

“Catherine?” Eve was behind her. “What’s wrong?”

Catherine threw her arm out toward the road. “That’s what’s wrong. He’s gone. He took off.”

“Gallo?” Joe said as he came out of the living room.

“Who else? Did he say good-bye? Did he explain more than muttering a lot of disjointed garbage? No.” She went back to the kitchen, tossed the water from the pan out the door, and sat down. She glared at Eve and Joe, who had followed her from the front door. “But he’s not going to get away with it. I’m going to go after him.” She opened the first-aid kit she’d set out in readiness to bandage the cuts on her feet. “But first we’re going to find out everything we can put together about the man who killed Jacobs. Dammit, Jacobs was scared because he knew who killed Bonnie. I know it. If we’d had just a little more time, we’d have made him tell us everything. It had to be that man we lost in the bayou. We’re close, Eve.”

“But Gallo may be closer.”

“Not for long, dammit,” she said through clenched teeth.

“LET ME HELP YOU WITH THOSEbandages.” 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.”