Hour Game

by David Baldacci

  all the other rooms the camera was positioned such that the entire bed and all the apparatus on either side of the bed were shown. In Battle’s room the feed was only of the bed and the right side.”

  Michelle said, “The killer moved the camera so he wouldn’t be shown doing the deed in case someone was looking at the monitor.”

  “That’s right.”

  On the way out of the hospital Harry Carrick met them at the exit. Though it was very early in the morning, Carrick was neatly dressed in a tweed jacket and dress shirt with an open collar.

  “Harry, what are you doing here?” asked King.

  “Bobby Battle and I are old friends. Well, we were old friends. And I’m also the general counsel for the hospital. They called me at home. I’ve just finished meeting with them. It’s a conflict, that I readily admit. But there you are. Have you seen Remmy?”

  “No, she’d already come and gone by the time we got here.”

  Carrick said, “I know some of what was found in Bobby’s room. I’m assuming there’s more to it.”

  “There is. We just don’t know what really.”

  “Well, I won’t keep you, but we need to reconvene shortly on Junior’s case.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “What you’ve discovered up to this point are things I needed to know but aren’t particularly helpful for our cause. I felt out the commonwealth’s attorney regarding a plea deal of some sort and got stone-cold silence for my troubles. Remmy is most definitely calling the shots. She was upset before, and now with Bobby’s death I don’t see her aggression abating.”

  “Probably increasing,” said Michelle.

  “Probably,” said Carrick glumly. “Well, I won’t keep you. If you hear anything more about Bobby’s death, let me know.”

  He turned and left them. They watched as he climbed into a perfectly restored British MG convertible and sped off into the reddish glow of the ascending sun.

  Michelle turned to King. “I really feel for Harry. He’s friends with the Battles, and yet he’s representing Junior Deaver and the hospital where Bobby died.”

  King nodded. “I definitely see a lawsuit coming Wrightsburg General’s way. Pretty ironic, suing a place that has your name on the outside of the building.”

  “I don’t think that would deter Remmy Battle in the least.”

  “I wasn’t thinking it would.” He stretched and yawned. “I’m debating whether to go to the office or back to the boat to sleep.”

  “I’m going to go for a run,” said Michelle. “Why don’t you come with me? Endorphins are good for the brain.”

  “Running! You just did kickboxing!” he exclaimed.

  “That was yesterday, Sean.”

  “God took a day off, you know.”

  “If he was a woman, he wouldn’t have.”

  “Okay, you convinced me.”

  She looked pleased. “You’re going to run with me?”

  “No, I’m going back to the boat to rest. If it was good enough for God, it’s good enough for me.”

  CHAPTER

  30

  THE POST OFFICE WAS

  under strict instructions to immediately forward any suspicious letters addressed to the Gazette to the police. The Hinson letter came the day after Bobby Battle had been murdered. It was simply worded.

  One lawyer less, who cares? I trust you know who I’m not this time. See you soon.

  Meanwhile, Sylvia Diaz had risen from her sickbed and finally performed the autopsy on Robert Battle.

  At the moment she was sitting with King and Michelle in her office. Chief Williams and Chip Bailey had both attended the Battle autopsy, she told them.

  “I think Todd is now thoroughly comfortable with postmortems, unfortunately simply from sheer numbers,” commented Sylvia.

  “So what killed Bobby?” asked King.

  “I won’t know for certain until the toxicology screens come back in a week or so, but it looks like someone shot a large quantity of potassium chloride into his nutrition IV bag. In less than ten minutes it would work its way through the TPN solution, into the tubing and then into his body. As soon as that happened, his heart would go into ventricular fibrillation. In his already weakened condition the end would have been quick at least and painless.”

  “All that suggests some medical knowledge,” said King.

  Sylvia considered this for a moment. “It’s true that potassium chloride isn’t often used to kill someone. However, if the person did have medical expertise, he was a little sloppy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Battle had the standard array of IV lines: the blood thinner heparin, a saline sugar solution, a TPN or nutrition solution bag, an antibiotic to combat the pulmonary infection he caught from being on the ventilator for so long and the drug dopamine to control his blood pressure.”

  “Okay, so what does that tell us?” asked King.

  “Well, if the person had shot the potassium chloride directly into the tubing instead of into the TPN bag, the same fatal result would have occurred, but it would have been undetectable. You have to understand that the TPN solution already has potassium chloride in it, and thus so did Battle’s system. I was able to determine that someone had placed additional potassium chloride into the bag only by comparing the levels present there to a normal TPN bag mixture. There was over triple the standard amount, easily enough to kill him.”

  “So you’re saying if the potassium chloride had gone into the tubing directly and not the bag, you never would have noticed it?”

  “Yes. The residue in the tubing would be insufficient to raise suspicion. In fact, it would have only been suspicious if there hadn’t been residue of potassium chloride. And as I said, Battle already had potassium chloride in his body. It’s naturally absorbed, which is why an autopsy alone wouldn’t have resulted in an overdose confirmation.”

  “So it was like the person had some medical knowledge but wasn’t an expert?” said King.

  “Or else,” said Michelle, “he wanted it to be discovered that Battle had been murdered. As if the watch and the feather weren’t enough.”

  “It almost wasn’t enough,” King reminded her. “The feather had fallen to the floor, and the watch was covered under the IV lines and hospital tags.”

  “That doesn’t make sense, though,” said Sylvia. “I mean, isn’t the first rule in murdering someone to try and make it like the perfect murder? And if so, how more perfect can you get than by making it look like no murder was even committed?”

  Michelle and King both shook their heads, unable to come up with a theory that would account for the killer’s behavior.

  Sylvia sighed. “Not that it matters, but Battle showed evidence of arteriosclerosis. There was also some unusual wrinkling on the surface of the aorta. He also had a small tumor on his right lung, perhaps the beginnings of lung cancer. Not surprising for a smoker of his age.”

  “What about Diane Hinson’s cause of death?” asked King. He quickly added, “Although it seemed pretty obvious.”

  “She died from massive internal bleeding from the multiple stab wounds. They severed her aorta and punctured her heart chamber and left lung. It would have been over in minutes for her too.” She added, “Though not nearly as painless as Battle’s death.”

  “Was she raped or sexually assaulted?” asked King.

  “No evidence of that at autopsy, but lab results are still pending. I heard about the Florence Nightinghell connection, by the way. I’ll guess we’ll get a letter to that effect.”

  “The Hinson letter indicated we’d see him soon, and we did,” said Michelle. “At least he’s a man of his word.”

  King added, “First an exotic dancer, then high school kids, then a lawyer and now Bobby Battle.”

  “It’s as though the killer is taking a greater risk with each one,” commented Sylvia.

  “To go from an exotic dancer he might have picked up in a bar and then shot and left in the woods to poisoning an im
mensely rich businessman lying in a coma in a hospital bed doesn’t make a whole lot of sense,” said King. “Not to sound callous, but how’s the guy picking his victims: one-night stands or the social register?”

  “Like I said before, this guy’s operating outside the box,” said Sylvia, rubbing at her bloodshot eyes.

  King looked at her closely. “You look like hell,” he said with a disarming smile. “You should be in bed.”

  “Thanks for noticing. I’ll try to get to that any week now.”

  “Where’s Kyle?” asked Michelle. “Can’t he pick up the slack?”

  “He’s not a pathologist; he can’t do the posts. And to answer your question, he called in sick. I wish that had been an option for me. I was hugging the toilet most of last night, and I have a full load of patients waiting. Thank God for antibiotics.”

  “What do you make of the killer’s choosing to emulate Mary Martin Speck?” asked Michelle.

  “Meaning a woman instead of a man?” Michelle nodded. “Well, I’m not sure what to make of it,” Sylvia said. “A woman could have killed Battle. It obviously takes no physical strength to shoot a solution from a syringe into an IV bag. However, I’d stake my reputation on the murders of Rhonda Tyler and Diane Hinson being committed by a man. A woman couldn’t have carried Tyler all that distance through the woods, and the knife wounds on Hinson were very deep. It was either a man or a woman so strong I’d hate to run into her in a dark alley.”

  “So,” Michelle began slowly, “it’s possible we have two killers here, a man and a woman.”

  “Not necessarily,” argued King. “The only evidence to that effect is the reference Bailey made to Speck and the bird’s feather. Until we get the letter, we won’t know if the killer was mimicking Speck at all. The feather may symbolize something else, something unique to the killer.”

  “That’s true,” conceded Michelle. Sylvia nodded in agreement.

  King looked at the two women. “Want to hear a really off-the-wall suggestion?”

  “I’ll bite,” said Michelle quickly.

  “Bobby Battle was a very wealthy man. I wonder who benefits under his will.”

  There was a long silence and then Sylvia said, “Are you suggesting a family member killed him for money and tried to make it look like one of the serial murders?”

  “It couldn’t have been Eddie. He was with us at the Sage Gentleman until after eleven o’clock,” said Michelle.

  “That’s right,” said King. “But Dorothea and Savannah were at the hospital earlier. They couldn’t have put the poison in then, because he would have been dead long before Remmy showed up. But suppose one of them stashed the potassium chloride in the room during their earlier visit that day, then snuck back in when she saw Remmy leave, did the deed and ran like hell.”

  “Eddie said Dorothea was at some function,” Michelle reminded him.

  “We’ll need to verify that.”

  “Well, many a murder has financial gain as the motive,” said Sylvia. “You might be on to something, Sean.”

  “While I’m at it, here’s another one to think about: Remmy was in the room with Battle for hours. Who’s to say she didn’t shoot that stuff into the IV bag before she left?”

  “What possible motivation would Remmy have?” asked Sylvia. “She’s rich.”

  “What if Bobby had taken up his old womanizing ways, and Remmy had simply had enough? There might not be enough money in the world to counter that.”

  “That’s a different story, of course. Do you have evidence supporting that?”

  King thought about Battle’s secret drawer and Remmy’s not wearing her wedding ring but decided not to mention that to Sylvia. “I’m not saying we have anything to support it. I’m just throwing out what-ifs. And maybe even more than money, a woman scorned is one of the oldest motivations for murder there is. So she exits with a built-in alibi and leaves the feather and watch as misdirection. The serial killer’s M.O. has been all over the news, so she’d know those types of details.”

  “But the fact she was even there makes her a suspect, particularly with the delayed manner of death by poisoning,” argued Sylvia. “You could make a case that if she were going to do something like that, she’d have slipped in another time, done it and left before anyone saw her. As it stands now, she really has no alibi at all.”

  “Well,” said Michelle, “if I were the person who killed Battle and tried to pin it on our neighborhood serial killer, I’d be looking over my shoulder big-time.”

  “What do you mean?” said Sylvia.

  “If I were the real killer, I’d be pretty upset about that.”

  “I’m still not following,” said Sylvia.

  “Look at it this way. The serial killings have been meticulously planned and executed. We have follow-up letters from the killer taunting the police. Clearly, this guy is a control freak and has some grand plan in mind. Now, if another person killed Bobby Battle and tried to pin the blame on the serial killer, our control freak may see it as tainting his masterpiece. He’ll want to take out his revenge on the person who killed Battle.”

  “So, in effect, we may have one killer going after another,” said King.

  “Exactly,” said Michelle.

  CHAPTER

  31

  “I’M DEPUTIZING YOU

  both,” said Chief Williams as he sat eyeballing King and Michelle at their office the next day. They stared back at him, clearly stunned.

  “Excuse me?” said King. “I was one of your deputies once. I have no desire to re-up, Todd.”

  “I’m not giving you the option. I need you!”

  “They outlawed indentured servitude a long time ago,” King shot back.

  “What’s going on, Todd?” asked Michelle.

  “I’m getting squeezed out by the feds, that’s what.”

  “But you wanted their help,” exclaimed King.

  “But I also didn’t want to be shoved off the case, right here in my own town. I don’t want folks to think I can’t do the job. I’m willing to work with the feds, of course, even let them jointly run the investigation with me. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let them push me out of investigating my very own crime spree.”

  King shook his head in bewilderment. “Todd, I think you’ve been attending too many autopsies. Why don’t you let them handle it? They’ve got the manpower and the experience. Let it be their headache.”

  “There’s something to be said for pride, Sean,” rejoined Williams in an offended tone. “And you two have put in a lot of time already on this thing. You’ve got theories and ideas. Who’s to say if we work together we can’t crack this thing faster than the almighty FBI? Hell, Chip Bailey’s running around already like he’s king of the hill. I’m just waiting for him to tell me to make him some coffee. That’ll be the day. I’ll shoot the son of a bitch first.” He looked at them pleadingly. “Come on, you two have just as much experience as any of those guys. I know together we can get this done. And remember, we live here, they don’t. We need to make Wrightsburg safe to live in again. It’s our home. Everybody’s counting on us.”

  Michelle and King exchanged glances.

  Michelle spoke first. “Well, it is a challenging proposition.”

  “So’s hang gliding; that doesn’t mean you should do it,” King shot back.

  “Come on, Sean, this case is intriguing you, you can’t deny that,” she pointed out. “You’ll be thinking about it whether you’re working on it or not. At least if we’re deputized, we can investigate with some official status. We might make more progress that way.”

  “And what about our investigation firm?”

  “You can still do that,” answered Williams quickly. “I’m not asking you to spend all your time on this. But what I’m willing to do is give you access to everything. You won’t have to tag along after me everywhere. You can go and talk to people and snoop around all by yourself under my badge. I’ve got the power. I can deputize anybody I damn well want
to.”

  “And Bailey won’t have a problem with that?” said King skeptically. “Come on, Todd, you know better.”

  “So what if he gets his back up? He can’t argue with your credentials. But you just leave him to me. I’ll go to the mat on this one, even if I have to call the governor.”

  “I don’t know,” said King, “this could turn out to be one big turf war nightmare, and I went through enough of those with the Service.”

  Michelle punched him playfully in the arm. “Come on, what could it really hurt?”

  “We could get killed by this psycho! I bet that would hurt.”

  Michelle looked at Williams and winked. “I’m in.”