Hour Game

by David Baldacci

  He’d missed eliminating King and Maxwell, which frustrated him greatly. They were no doubt right now spinning new theories about what was really going on, and one day they might just alight on the right one. As complicated as it all seemed, the pair might figure it all out and ruin everything. It would be risky, but he was going to have to try again to kill them, in a way that wouldn’t fail. It would take time to come up with such a scenario, and in the meantime he’d pay close attention to the intelligence he received from his bugs and try to stay a step ahead. It would be tight, but if he kept his head and stuck to his plan, it would turn out all right.

  He was confident he was going to win. He had the most powerful advantage of all: he wasn’t afraid to die for ultimate victory. He doubted his opponents felt the same.

  Yet now he had another component of his plan to put into place.

  A successful exit.

  CHAPTER

  78

  “YOU CAN’T BELIEVE

  Roger Canney’s the one,” said King heatedly.

  They were at police headquarters, around a long conference table. Williams and Bailey stared back at him doubtfully. Michelle doodled on a pad in front of her while simultaneously watching her partner closely.

  “He tried to kill both of you,” pointed out Bailey.

  King said, “Because we pretty much accused Canney of blackmailing Bobby Battle. The fact he tried to kill us pretty conclusively proves we were right. And if Canney did kill his wife, he’d probably be terrified we’d uncover that too. He goes on the run, we think. But he’s really still in the area and tries to kill us. That doesn’t mean he committed all those other murders.”

  Bailey shook his head. “He’d have to know or at least believe you’d shared your suspicions with us. And his method of trying to kill you was pretty stupid. Someone could have driven by and seen it all. And he used his own vehicle to try and kill you.”

  “I didn’t say he was a smart criminal. Frankly, I think he became unhinged. He’d been living on easy street for years thinking he’s safe. And then his son’s murdered and we stumble upon the blackmail. Maybe he just snapped. And if you do paternity testing on both the Canneys and Bobby, I’ll think you’ll find out who Steve Canney’s real father was,” added King.

  “Okay, then, maybe Canney killed his son and his girlfriend and Bobby Battle, and then killed the prostitute and Diane Hinson to muddy the waters.”

  “And Junior Deaver?” pointed out King. “How does he fit into it?”

  “Canney could have hired him to burglarize the Battles’ house,” said Bailey.

  “For what reason?” shot back King.

  “Well, if Battle and Mrs. Canney were having an affair, maybe Battle had something belonging to his lover that Roger Canney wanted back. Or Canney was afraid Battle had something incriminating on him. But then Junior also steals items from Remmy too, and Canney’s ticked about that or is afraid Junior will give him away. So he kills him. By going after you two he showed he didn’t mind murdering someone who got in his way.”

  “And Sally’s death?” asked Michelle. “How does that figure in?”

  “From what you’ve told us she was—and not to speak ill of the dead—a gal who’d jump into bed with anything wearing pants. Maybe Junior told her about Canney, and Canney found out and had to kill her too,” said Bailey, who smiled broadly, obviously pleased with himself.

  King sat back, shaking his head.

  “It does sort of make sense, Sean,” conceded Williams.

  “It’s wrong, Todd,” said King very firmly. “All wrong.”

  “So give me an alternative theory that fits the facts,” challenged Bailey.

  “Right now I can’t, but I’m telling you that if you stop looking for the real killer—or more likely, killers—other people could die.”

  “We’re not going to stop, Sean,” said Williams, “but if no more people are killed, it’s pretty good evidence Canney is the one.”

  “You don’t believe that, Todd, no matter how much you want to.” King rose. “Come on, Michelle, I need some air.”

  Outside the police station, King leaned against Michelle’s truck, shoved his hands in his pockets and scattered a bunch of gravel with an angry thrust of his foot.

  “You know, either Chip Bailey is the biggest idiot I’ve ever met or…”

  “Or maybe he’s right, and you can’t bring yourself to admit it,” finished Michelle.

  “Oh, you think so? Damn, my own partner conspiring against me,” he said with a resigned grin. “Maybe I am wrong.”

  Michelle shrugged. “I think pinning the whole thing on Canney is way too much of a stretch, but like Bailey said, we don’t have much of an alternative theory.”

  “There are things we know, things that are dangling right in front of our faces that we’re not even seeing. If I could just grab them and hang on, I know it would lead us where we need to go. But it’s driving me crazy that I can’t see them.”

  “I think I know a remedy.”

  He looked at her dubiously. “I’m not running in a marathon or going bungee jumping in order to get my brain firing better.”

  “What I’m thinking requires no physical exertion at all.”

  “An absolutely stunning concept, coming from you.”

  Michelle stared at the beautiful blue sky. “I say it’s boating time. Nothing like a spin on the water to get the mental juices flowing again, especially on a day like this.”

  “We don’t have time—” King stopped and his expression turned softer. “Okay, after nearly being killed twice, maybe a little break wouldn’t be so bad.”

  “I knew you’d see my logic. Sea-Doos or jet boat?”

  “Jet boat. I’m getting tired of you always wanting to race on the Sea-Doos.”

  “That’s just because I always beat you.”

  CHAPTER

  79

  KING WAS AT THE WHEEL,

  and Michelle sat next to him in the twenty-foot Bombardier jet boat as they cruised along at thirty knots over the lake’s calm surface. The summer season was still a ways off, so they had the water pretty much to themselves.

  “How much of Cardinal Lake have you seen?” asked King.

  “A lot. I don’t let the grass grow under my feet.”

  King went on in a pedantic tone. “You know, this lake was formed by damming up two rivers and letting the water back up over ten years. The end result was a very deep thirty-mile-long lake with excellent fishing, water sports and about two hundred coves and inlets.”

  “Wow, you sound just like the real estate agent who sold me my place. Do you also refinance mortgages?”

  They headed toward the hydroelectric dam, which was really two dams, an upper and a lower one. Then they hit the main channel and turned west. Where the two rivers came together, King headed north until they came to a smaller channel that doglegged north and then east. They kept this heading, passing the even-numbered red channel markers that ran upriver, until he pulled back on the throttle and steered straight into a small uninhabited cove. A few minutes later they’d anchored down in about twenty feet of clear water, and King pulled out a basket of food and a cooler with sodas and water he’d put together.

  “I’m going to swim before we eat,” said Michelle.

  “How’s your arm?”

  “Will you stop with the arm? It was only a nick to begin with.”

  “Why do I think if you took a thirty-thirty round through your chest, you’d only ask for a Band-Aid, and a small one at that?”

  She stripped down to her one-piece swimsuit and dove in.

  “God, the water’s great,” she said after coming back up.

  King eyed his instrument panel. “Water temp’s seventy-five, still a little cool for me. I’m an eighty-one, eighty-two kind of guy.”

  “You mean you’re a wimp.”

  “That’s another way of putting it, yes.”

  After they’d had their lunch, King pulled up the anchor and they start
ed off again. Michelle pointed to a long, wide point up ahead. It was quite a sight: a six-slip boat dock with a gazebo, bar, dining area and equipment sheds and about six thousand square feet of decking, all encased in cedar siding and shake roofing. It just begged for an Architectural Digest spread.

  “That’s pretty impressive. Who owns it?”

  “What, you lose your sense of direction on the water? That’s Casa Battle.”

  “What! I didn’t even know they were on the lake.”

  “You don’t put up a mansion in Wrightsburg without lakefront access. They have the whole point plus about twenty more acres. Their dock is a ways from the main house. In fact, you can’t even see the mansion from the lake. I think they designed it that way so there wouldn’t be gawkers coming by on boats all the time. They use golf carts to come and go.”

  “What a life.” She squinted against the intense sunlight. “Who’s that out there on the sailboat?”

  King grabbed his binoculars and zeroed in on the skipper of the other boat. “Savannah.” He pondered for a moment, then fingered the throttle forward and steered toward the sailboat.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going fishing.”

  They drew close to the sailboat that was little more than a Sunfish. Savannah had one hand on the tiller and the other on a can of Coke. She waved when she saw who it was.

  “Great minds think alike,” called out King.

  Savannah had a long tank shirt on over her two-piece bathing suit. Her hair was wet and pulled back in a ponytail, and her shoulders and face had already started to redden from the sun.

  “The water’s amazing,” she said.

  “Sean won’t go in until it hits bathwater status,” said Michelle.

  “Don’t know what you’re missing, Mr. King,” said Savannah.

  “Well, I could be tempted if you two were to join me.”

  They each took a minute to drop their anchors, and then first Savannah and then Michelle dove in. When they came up, King was still sitting on his boat’s swim platform, his feet dangling in the water.

  “What are you doing, Sean?” said Michelle.

  “I said I could be tempted, not that I’d actually do it.”

  Michelle and Savannah looked at each other, a silent communication passing between the two women. They both went under the water. When they came back up next to where King sat, each had one of his feet in her hands.

  “Oh, no, you—,” began King. Whatever else he was about to say was lost as he was pulled into the lake and immediately went under. He came up spitting water and cursing loudly.

  “These aren’t swim trunks!” he shouted.

  “They are now,” replied Savannah smugly.

  After a half hour in the water they navigated their boats to the dock and sat in the gazebo drinking beers that Savannah fetched from the bar fridge.

  Michelle looked around at the mountain and water vistas. “Quite a view.”

  “This is really my favorite part of the whole place,” said Savannah.

  King eyed the Battles’ collection of boats. “I’ve been out on the big Sea Ray cruiser, but I don’t remember that Formula 353 FasTech. It’s a beauty.”

  “Daddy had just bought it last winter. The marina folks came and prepped it for summer. We haven’t even put any hours on the engine yet. Eddie’s the real boater in the family. I just like to ride on them and catch some sun and drink beer. Eddie said he’d take it out soon and break it in. I understand it’s really fast, got some monster engines.”

  King said, “I’ll say, twin five-hundred-horsepower Merc EFIs; a top speed north of seventy and a cruising speed at right about double nickels. Tell Eddie I’d be glad to help him break it in.”

  “My, my,” Savannah said in an exaggerated southern accent, “and here I was having such a dee-lightful time on my little old no-horsepower sailboat.”

  “It’s clearly a guy thing, Savannah,” commented Michelle, shooting her partner an amused glance. “I didn’t know you were so into racing boats.”

  “It’s easy to be when you can’t afford them.”

  There was a bit of silence, and King slowly put down his beer and looked at the youngest Battle with a serious expression.

  “You didn’t come here just to admire me in my bikini and lust over our boats, did you?” she asked, returning his gaze with a hopeful look that held out the possibility that that indeed was all he was interested in.

  “We do have some questions to ask you.”

  Savannah immediately looked away and her expression became pained. “Sally?”

  “Among other things.”

  “That’s one reason I came down here to go sailing, to get away from it.” She shook her head. “I’ll never get that out of my head. Never. It was so awful, Sean, so awful.”

  He put his hand over hers and squeezed for a moment before letting go. “But it only gets worse if we don’t catch the person who did it.”

  “I told Todd and Agent Bailey everything I know. I didn’t even know Sally was in the stables until…”

  “And then you ran to your brother’s home?” said Michelle. Savannah nodded. “Dorothea answered the door. How did she seem?”

  “I don’t really remember. I was hysterical. I remember her going to get Eddie, but then she couldn’t wake him. Then all hell broke loose. I just stood over by the door the whole time. I was afraid to move. When they came and got Eddie, I ran back to my room and pulled the covers over my head.” She put her drink down and went over and sat on the dock, her feet in the water.

  King stared at her curiously. What the hell was gnawing at his brain, begging him to decipher it? He finally shook his head in frustration. It just wasn’t coming.

  “Is your mother home?” he asked.

  “No, she went out. Something to do with the lawyers and probate.”

  “Would you mind if we took another look at the closets in your parents’ bedrooms?”

  She swiveled around on her bottom to look at him. “I thought you already did that.”

  “Never hurts to check a second time. It might help.”

  They climbed in the golf cart Savannah had ridden down in and headed up to the house. Savannah led them in through the rear entrance and up the stairs to the third level.

  “I keep telling Mama that if she’s going to stay here, she needs to have an elevator put in.”

  “Climbing stairs is good exercise,” said Michelle.

  “Don’t listen to her,” said King. “Get the elevator.”

  Savannah opened the door to her mother’s bedroom and stopped dead. “Oh,” she exclaimed. “What are you doing in here?”

  King moved past her and looked at Mason suspiciously.

  The butler gazed back at them unperturbed. “Just tidying up your mother’s room, Savannah. The maids rarely do a good enough job.” Now he looked at King and Michelle with equal suspicion. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Um,” began Savannah, her upper teeth biting into her lower lip.

  “You’re dripping on the rug,” Mason pointed out.

  “We were swimming in the lake,” explained Michelle.

  “Nice day for it.” He continued to stare at them questioningly.

  “We’re here to take another look at Remmy’s closet, Mason,” said King. “As part of the investigation.”

  “But I thought because Mr. Deaver is dead that there’s no longer an investigation to pursue.”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you, but that’s not actually the case,” said King politely.

  Mason turned to Savannah. “Have you checked with your mother about this?”

  King answered, “She took us through it once before, Mason. I can’t imagine she’d have a problem with a second time.”

  “I always like to make sure of these things, Sean.”

  “You see, because we know Junior didn’t do it and Remmy is now friends with his widow, it’s up to us to find out who did take those things. It’s in Remmy’s
interest of course to see that happens. But if