No. No. No.
Not prey at all.
But the man had sighted prey of his own, Gallo realized.
His stance had changed and now he was in stalking mode. He’d drawn a knife from the holster at his waist.
Stalking whom?
Catherine.
Catherine, standing at the edge of the trees. Catherine, setting her own trap for the man who had killed Jacobs, the man who had killed Bonnie.
Dammit, what is wrong with me? Gallo thought in agony. Throw the knife.
CHAPTER 3
IT WASN’T A NEW VEHICLE, Catherine noticed as she cautiously approached. It was a beat-up blue Chevy truck and the tires looked worn, almost bald.
No sign of the driver of the truck.
She’d been listening and hadn’t heard anyone come out of the bayou.
But she might not have been able to hear him. Gallo had said this creep was good. She trusted Gallo’s judgment.
When it didn’t concern his damned chauvinistic attitude toward her.
She stopped. She’d been tempted to check out the license plate and the glove box of the truck. Not smart. Better to wait and do all that later. Now she should wait and watch and listen.
Not much watching with this fog, but she could listen.
No sound.
The fog had come in again, and the truck was only a hazy outline before her. But she’d probably have company soon. Just wait and pounce when he came on the bank.
She stiffened. Something was wrong. She felt it. The hair on the back of her neck was tingling.
* * *
“THERE’S SOMEONE OVER there in the trees.” Joe grabbed Eve’s arm and pulled her to a halt. His eyes narrowed. “I think it’s Catherine.” He froze. “Oh, shit.”
She could see why he was cursing as she saw the tall man in the wet suit directly behind Catherine. Nothing could be clearer than that he was on the attack.