Bonnie by Iris Johansen Page B

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