Free Bonnie by Iris Johansen

didn’t even notice the alligator farm,” Catherine said.
    “But you were looking for the house and nothing else. The fog was heavy and drifting in and out.” Joe looked at Eve. “Eve and I didn’t pay any attention to it when we came here either. We were … distracted. The man who killed Jacobs wasn’t distracted. He had a purpose and was looking for a way to accomplish it.”
    “Formidable,” Catherine said slowly.
    “Yes,” Joe said, gazing at Catherine. “And with all the signs of a professional.”
    “I agree,” Catherine said. “But that doesn’t mean he was hired by Gallo.”
    “It doesn’t mean he wasn’t.” Joe glanced at the notebook on the table. “Any luck?”
    “Not yet.”
    “Really?”
    “I’m trying, Joe,” Catherine said between her teeth. “I’ll get there.”
    “I’m sure you will. But I don’t want to wait for it.” He turned back to Eve. “Julian is going to take me into New Orleans. I’m going to see if I can push them to get the results from forensics. Do you want to go with me?”
    “No, I want to finish the sketch first. I’ll follow you when I’m done.” She nodded at Catherine. “And Venable is supposed to be here anytime with a crew to take care of Jacobs. Catherine is going to have to see Venable. She said he’s been very insistent.”
    “Whatever you say.” Joe brushed a kiss across Eve’s forehead. “Call me when you’re on your way. I’ll let you know if I can accelerate the processing of that forensic report.” He headed for the door. “And, if you hear from Gallo, I want to know about it.”
    Eve waited until the door closed behind him before she turned back to Catherine. “Let’s get back to it.” She picked up the notebook and dropped down in a chair beside the window. “What about the lips?”
    “Wide.” Catherine thought about it. “No, a full bottom lip, but his upper lip was thinner. And the left side was a little crooked.”
    “Crooked?”
    “Not really crooked. Just not the same shape as the right. Is that strange?”
    “No, few people are born with perfectly balanced features. Some differences are more noticeable than others.” She sketched in a mouth and turned the notebook around. “Like this?”
    Catherine shook her head. “Fuller lower lip.” She sat back and watched Eve make the change. “This is a painstaking business, isn’t it? It’s a lot different than those computer age progressions you did for me when I was searching for Luke.” Memories flooded back to Catherine of sitting beside Eve in front of the computer at her lake house and seeing the photo of her two-year-old son slowly become transformed into the picture of the eleven-year-old he was today. It had been a painful yet poignantly rewarding journey they’d taken together. And the journey to rescue him from his kidnapper had been equally rewarding. She had gotten back her son, and she had found a friendship with Eve that was beyond price. “How accurate is this sketching business?”
    “You tell me. You have as much say in it as I do. More.”
    “Have you done much of this?”
    She shook her head. “When I was in college, I did sketching for a photographer, and after I became a forensic sculptor, I occasionally did sketches for the police department. I’m okay at it, but I’m not as good as the usual police artists. You have to know just what questions to ask and take it from A to Z.” She smiled at Catherine. “So stop blaming yourself. It’s my fault, too, that this isn’t going as quickly as it might.”
    “Joe thought I was stalling.”
    “Joe doesn’t know what to think,” Eve said. “It’s not that he doesn’t trust you.”
    “Yeah? He doesn’t trust Gallo, and he’s tossing me into the same camp.”
    Eve couldn’t deny it. “You have to admit that the strength of your support of Gallo is a little strange. He thinks Gallo has managed to exert an influence on you that isn’t logical … or professional.”
    Catherine made