Iris Johansen - Bonnie

“Not round. Oval, I think.”

Eve’s pencil was flying over the paper. “Big? Small? Medium?”

“Medium.”

“Wide set?”

“No, ordinary.”

“Color.”

“Light. Gray, I think.”

“Skin? Tan? Pale?”

“Sort of tan and weathered-looking.”

“Any lines?”

“On either sides of his mouth. The rest of his face was smooth.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, no. Wait. He was wearing that wet suit, and the rubber headpiece appeared very tight. It was pulling his face taut. I think I remember faint indentations around the corner of his eyes.”

Eve quickly added the lines in a sunburst effect. “That looks more natural.” She held the sketch up and gazed at it appraisingly. She said absently, “But he’s older than-” She stopped, her eyes widening in stunned surprise.

Crazy. It couldn’t be. Impossible.

“Eve?”

She shook her head to clear it. Impossible.

But anything was possible in this crazy world that had become her own.

Her hands were shaking as she turned the notebook and showed Catherine the sketch.

“Is this… him?”

Catherine’s eyes widened. “My God.”

“ANSWER ME.” EVE TRIED TO STEADYher voice. “Is this the man who tried to kill you?”

“Yes.” Catherine took the notebook and gazed down at the sketch. “Congratulations. I had no idea you could come this close. It’s him. ”

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“I told you, it’s him. That chin is the-” She broke off as she raised her eyes and saw Eve’s expression. “What’s wrong? You’re pale as this notebook paper.”

“I just have to make sure you’re positive this is the man. I have to know that I didn’t make him up out of some subconscious memory.”

Catherine stiffened. “Memory?”

Eve took the sketch back and looked at it again. The eyes, the facial features, the brows were all the same. Only the deep wrinkles at the corners of the eyes and the ferocity that was imprinted in every line of that face was different.

“What memory, Eve?” Catherine asked. “You’ve seen this man before?”

“I think I have. But it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Who is it? Give me a name.”

Eve shook her head. “But he’s a dead man. Gallo told me that he was dead.”

“Dammit, who is it?”

“His name is Ted Danner.”

“And you’ve seen him before?”

Eve moistened her lips. “A long time ago. And only a couple times. He’s John Gallo’s uncle.”

“What?”

“Ted Danner is Gallo’s uncle. He was the reason John Gallo came to Atlanta. I would never have met Gallo, never had Bonnie, if it hadn’t been for Ted Danner.” She looked down at the sketch. “He was an ex-Ranger who had been injured in the Army. He had been sent down to the Veterans’ Hospital in Atlanta from Milwaukee so that he could go to a specialist there. I remember that he could hardly walk.”

“Then they must have performed a miracle,” Catherine said dryly. “He moved like an Olympic athlete at that bayou this morning. Providing the athlete had all the instincts of a serial killer.”

Eve shook her head in bewilderment. “I don’t understand it. I liked Ted Danner. I felt sorry for him. Gallo told me that he was the only good thing in his life. Gallo grew up in the slums, as I did, and his parents abused him terribly. His uncle was the only bright spot in a pretty lousy life. He took him away on trips, interceded between him and his parents, taught him everything he knew about being a Ranger. That’s why Gallo wanted to go into the service.”

“And ended up in that prison in North Korea.” She shook her head. “Look, this doesn’t seem like it could be the same man. Could you be mistaken? You said you only saw him a couple times.”

“That’s right, the first time I saw him was when he came to see me months after John Gallo had left me and joined the Army. The other time was after Bonnie was born.” Could she be mistaken? She had been only sixteen, and when you were young, you saw everything and everyone differently. A pregnant sixteen-year-old who was just trying to survive those months and get on with her life.

“There’s a man downstairs who wants to talk to you,” her neighbor, Rosa, said, when Eve opened the door. “I left him on my bench in the yard. Nice man. He said he’d come upstairs, but he has a bad back.”

“Who is he? Salesman?”

“I don’t think so.” Rosa frowned. “He doesn’t have that slick look. I didn’t get his name. He sort of reminds me of someone.”

“That’s a help.” She came out on the landing and started down the steps. “Look, Rosa, you were supposed to be studying with me this morning and not sitting with your baby on that bench.”

“But he needs the sunshine.”

“And you need your GED. And you’re going to get it. I want you here tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.” She made a face as she leaned over the railing and called, “You didn’t use to be so bossy. Your baby is going to come out of you cracking a whip.”

Eve grinned as she opened the front door. “I’ll take the chance. That will be two of us to nag you.”

She was still smiling as she turned to the man sitting on the bench. “Hello, I’m Eve Duncan. What can-” She inhaled sharply.

He sort of reminds me of someone.

He was a thin man in his late forties or early fifties, with thinning gray-brown hair and olive skin and dark eyes.

John Gallo’s eyes.

“How do you do? I’m Ted Danner.” The man got to his feet with an effort. “I’m sorry to make you come down. I just couldn’t face those flights of stairs. John may have told you that I have back problems.”

“You’re his uncle Ted.” She moistened her lips, trying to recover from the shock. “Yes, he said you injured it while you were in the service.”

“I thought he’d tell you about me. We’re very close.” He smiled gently. “He’s like my own son. He’s a good boy.”

“Why are you here?”

“He asked me to come.”

Another shock. “What?”

“Well, actually, he asked me to keep an eye on you when he left for basic training. He said that I shouldn’t approach you, that you’d resent it.”

“But you’re here.”

“I tried to keep myself from coming. But I had to talk to you.” He looked at the front of her maternity smock. “I saw you on the street three weeks ago, and I was… surprised. How far are you along?”

“Eight months.”

“And it’s John’s child?”

“No, it’s my child.”

“But John fathered him?”

She nodded. “But you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to claim him as the father.” She paused. “I prefer he not know. You should agree to that. John said you were eager that he have a career in the military. A baby would just get in his way.” Her lips tightened. “Don’t tell him.”

Ted Danner shook his head. “You poor child. You’re so alone.”

“The hell I am. I’m doing fine. Don’t tell him.”

“I don’t have a choice at the moment. I can’t write to him. I don’t know where he is.”

She stared at him, stunned. “What?”

“Right after basic and Ranger training, he was sent overseas. I heard from him from Tokyo right after he arrived, then nothing.”

“That doesn’t make sense. You have to be able to trace him. You’re military yourself.”