Hour Game

by David Baldacci

  woman was no longer dressing like her mother. Perhaps the invincibility of Remmy Battle was wearing thin. She had on low-slung jeans that showed the top edge of her black thong panties, a short off-the-shoulder blouse and no shoes on her feet, the toenails painted a candy-apple red.

  She looked up in surprise when she saw Michelle there, as though she wasn’t even aware the woman had been staying with them all this time.

  “How’s it going, Savannah?”

  Savannah’s face clouded over. “Oh, just great. Father dead, sister-in-law a vegetable, mother whacked out, brother a serial killer. How’s it going with you?”

  “Sorry, poor choice of words.”

  “Forget it. It’s not like you’ve had it easy either.”

  “Compared to your family, I think everyone on earth has had it easy.” She paused, wondering whether to simply go back to her room and sulk. Rejecting that option, she said, “I was going to make some coffee. You interested?”

  Savannah hesitated before answering, “Sure, it’s not like I’ve got any plans.”

  The two women sat on a couch in the family room with their cups of coffee.

  Michelle looked toward the window where the rain was starting to ping against the panes. “Sounds like a storm is really blowing in,” she said. “I hope Sean gets back soon.”

  “He’s at Sylvia’s?”

  “That’s right. He just went for dinner.”

  “Are you two sleeping together?”

  Michelle flinched at this blunt question. “Who, me and Sylvia?” she joked.

  “You know who I mean.”

  “No, we’re not. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “If I worked with Sean, I’d sleep with him.”

  “Good for you. But not really good for a stellar working relationship.”

  “You like him, don’t you?”

  “Yes, and I respect him. And I’m glad we’re business partners.”

  “But that’s all?”

  “Why are you so interested in this?”

  “Probably because I don’t think I’ll ever have anything like that. I mean someone in my life.”

  “What, are you crazy? You’re young, beautiful and rich. You’ll have your pick of any man you want. That’s just the way the world works.”

  Savannah stared at her pointedly. “No, I won’t.”

  “Of course you will. Why wouldn’t you?”

  Savannah started biting her nails.

  Michelle reached over and snatched the hand out of Savannah’s mouth. “Little kids bite their nails, Savannah. And while we’re asking each other blunt questions, why don’t you get your name taken off your ass? That might help your marriage prospects, if you’re so worried about it.”

  “That wouldn’t help.”

  Michelle eyed her warily. “Why the poor-little-me routine?”

  Savannah suddenly exploded. “Because what if I’m as crazy as the rest of my family? My father was totally screwed up. My brother’s a killer. Now I found out my other brother had syphilis. My mother is a freak unto herself. Even my sister-in-law is a total mess. It’s a disease. You come into contact with the Battles, you’re doomed. So what the hell chance do I have? I’ve got no chance. None!” She dropped her cup of coffee on the floor, pulled herself into a ball and started sobbing.

  Michelle stared at her for a long moment, wondering if she even wanted to get involved in this. Finally, she reached over and hugged the woman tightly, said soothing words to her without really knowing their source. As the thunder boomed outside, Savannah’s sobs started to recede, but the young woman still clung to Michelle as though she were the only friend she’d ever had or ever would have.

  All Michelle really wanted to do was get out of this place as fast as she could. She would even tackle the homicidal Eddie head-on, so long as it was away from Casa Battle. And yet she stayed right there and embraced the sobbing woman and whispered comforting things into her ear. Michelle held her like she was her own flesh and blood, silently thanking God she wasn’t. For who knew, Savannah could well be right about everything she’d just said. Maybe the Battles were cursed.

  CHAPTER

  95

  “THIS REALLY HAS BEEN

  a wonderful evening, Sean.”

  He and Sylvia had returned to the house and were sitting in the small glass-enclosed patio off the kitchen, observing the bad weather coming in.

  “I love watching storms on the lake,” she said. “It’s even prettier in the daytime, when you can see it come right over the mountain’s crest.”

  She turned to see him staring at her. “What?”

  “I was just thinking there’s something far lovelier than a storm, and it’s sitting right next to me.”

  She smiled. “Is that a leftover pickup line from your college days?”

  “Yes, but the big difference is I mean it now.”

  They moved closer to each other, his arm went around her shoulders and she rested her head against his chest.

  “Like I said before, it’s nice to be taken care of for a change,” she said.

  “You two really make a great couple, you really do.”

  Sylvia screamed and jerked up. King half rose from the couch before he saw it was pointless with the gun pointed at him. He sat back.

  Eddie Battle leaned against the doorway, still in his wet suit, aiming his pistol first at Sean and then at Sylvia. The laser aimer danced across their torsos like a red-hot ember on a puppeteer’s string.

  “In fact, you’re so adorable if I had a camera I’d take a photo.”

  “What the hell do you want, Eddie?”

  “What do I want? What do I want, Sean?”

  King moved in front of Sylvia as Eddie stepped into the room.

  “That’s what I asked.”

  “You know, I like you. I really do. I’m not pissed that you’re the one who ran me down. It was a nice little battle of wits. In fact, I figured it would be you. That’s why I tried to take out you and Michelle at your houseboat.”

  “Why don’t you save everybody a lot of trouble and just give yourself up? There’s a deputy right outside.”

  “No, not right outside, Sean,” he corrected. “He’s at the end of the driveway in his cruiser. I checked. And with the storm howling I could shoot both of you, throw a party, and he’d never even know it.”

  “Okay, so where does that leave us?”

  “That leaves us with both of you coming with me. We’re going to take a little spin on the lake.”

  King edged one hand down and pressed it against the side pocket of his jacket. His new cell phone was in that pocket.

  “On the lake? There’s a lightning storm!” said Sylvia.

  King felt the number pad through his coat. Keep him occupied, Sylvia.

  As if she could read his thought, she said, “And you can’t get away by water.”

  “I’m not trying to get away. I gave up on that notion a long time ago.”

  King found the speed dial number he wanted, pressed it, then felt for and pushed the call button. He would have to time this just right.

  As soon as he heard the call go through and the voice started to say hello, he shouted, “Damn it, Eddie, this is crazy. What, you’re into kidnapping now?”

  “Yeah, I was getting tired of just killing. Let’s go.”

  “We’re not getting in your boat and that’s it.”

  Eddie lined up his laser aimer on Sylvia’s forehead. “Then I’ll just shoot her right here. It’s up to you. I don’t really give a shit.”

  “Just take me, then,” said King.

  “That’s not part of the plan, old pal. Both of you.”

  “Where’re you taking us?”

  “And spoil the surprise?” In one terrifying instant the countenance of a man who’d slaughtered nine people confronted them. “Now, Sean. Right now.”

  For some reason that wasn’t even apparent to her, after leaving Savannah Michelle had gone over to Eddie’s studio t
o look around. She didn’t believe for a minute that the man was lurking around his home; there were armed police everywhere and Eddie was no fool. But as she went from painting to painting, she couldn’t help but wonder how a man who’d killed so many could have done such beautiful work. It didn’t seem possible that the same mind and body could house such an artist and such a terrifying killer. She shuddered and hugged herself. To think she’d had feelings for him. What did that say about her judgment? Her perception of other people? How could she trust her instincts ever again? This horrible thought put a burn in her belly. She bent over, suddenly dizzy and nauseous; she wedged her forearms against her thighs as she fought the urge to collapse.

  God, how could you have been so damn blind? But then she remembered what was said about some of the most famous killers in history. That they didn’t look or act like murderers. They were charming, fun to be around; you felt compelled to like them. That was the most frightening aspect of all. They were you and they were me.

  She straightened back up when her phone rang. She answered it but no one said anything. And then she heard King’s voice screaming something, only one word of which she really caught. But it was enough.

  “Eddie!”

  Still listening and piecing together what was happening at the other end of the wireless connection, she looked around, spotted a hard-line phone on a table next to one of Eddie’s easels and called Todd Williams.

  “They’re at Sylvia’s—at least I think they are.”

  “Holy shit. But there’s a deputy with Sean.”

  “He may already be dead.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Me too.”

  Michelle put the cell phone to her ear as she raced back to the Battle mansion. She sprinted to her room, grabbed her truck keys and ran back outside. She was about to jump in her truck but then stopped and ran back inside. She hurtled to Savannah’s room and threw open the door. Savannah was on her bed. She jumped up when Michelle burst in. Michelle covered the speaker hole of her phone so nothing she said would reach Eddie Battle’s ears.

  “My God, what is it?” asked Savannah.

  “I need your phone.”

  “What?”

  “Give me your damn cell phone!”

  Seconds later Michelle was climbing in her truck, her phone still pressed to her ear, straining to hear anything that might help her figure out where Sean was.

  Wait a minute. She heard something. What was it?

  “Boat!” Sean was asking where Eddie was taking them on the boat. She heard that clearly.

  She punched in the numbers on the phone she’d taken from Savannah.

  “Todd, they’re on a boat on the lake.”

  “A boat! Where the hell did Eddie get a boat?”

  “There’s a bunch of them at the dock here. Including a really fast one.”

  “Shit!”

  “Todd, do you have a boat?” she asked frantically.

  “No. I mean the Game and Inland Fisheries people have one, but I’m not sure where it is right now.”

  “Well, that’s just great!” Michelle thought quickly. Idiot. Of course.

  “How fast can you get here?”

  “What, uh, ten minutes,” answered Williams.

  “Make it five and meet me at the Battles’ dock. It’s a hike, but there’s a golf cart you can take. The path is lighted, and there are signs pointing the way.”

  “But what about you?”

  “What about me what!” she cried out.

  “Don’t you need the cart?”

  “It’ll just slow me down. Now listen really carefully, on your way here you need to get on the horn to the Game people, find that boat and get some armed men out onto the water. Make sure you lock down all roads that have lake access. And call the FBI and the state police and get a chopper up here with a big searchlight pronto. Tell them to roll out SWAT or Hostage Rescue. We’re going to need some snipers.”

  “That’ll all take time, Michelle.”

  “Which we have none of, so just do it!”

  “It’s a big lake. Over five hundred miles of shoreline. Lots of places to hide.”

  “Thanks for the pep talk. Just get your ass here.”

  She clicked off, jumped out of her truck, ran around behind the house and raced at the top of her speed down to the dock along the lighted path. She kept listening on her phone for helpful sounds, but all she could hear was a roar. If they were in the boat, the engines would drown everything else out.

  She reached the dock, hit a switch, and the entire area blazed with light. At that instant an enormous streak of horizontal lightning shot across the sky followed by a snap of thunder so loud she put her hands to her ears.

  Her gaze immediately caught the empty slip. “Shit, he’s in the FasTech.”

  She got back on the phone. “Todd, he’s in a Formula FasTech. A thirty-five-footer, white with a red—”

  “I know that make of boat. You got any idea of the engines that thing’s got?”

  “Yeah, twin Mercs, five hundred horses each with kick-ass Bravo screws. If you’re not here in three minutes, I leave without you.” She clicked off.

  “Okay, what do we got?” she asked herself as she ran from slip to slip. Sea-Doos were nimble and fast but they had no running lights, and she couldn’t exactly see big Todd being able to either hang on to her while she drove or else maneuver one by himself. Plus, after the lopsided road duel with Roger Canney, if it came down to a battle of the boats, she wanted a little more beef on her side.

  She stopped at the big Sea Ray performance cruiser berthed in one slip. It clearly couldn’t match the FasTech in speed, but it was a big boat with big engines—that’s all she needed. She shot the lock off the storage shed, went in, found the keys for the Sea Ray and the remote for the lift the Sea Ray was on and got the boat ready.

  Todd Williams came flying up in the golf cart minutes later. He grabbed a life jacket and climbed on board.

  “I got hold of everybody. The Game folks are putting their boat in at Haley Point Bridge, that’s fifteen miles upriver. Both the FBI and the state police are sending choppers and snipers just as fast as they can. I got roadblocks setting up at all lake access roads.”

  “Good. Now take this and listen carefully. Sean may give us some clues as to where they are.” Williams took the phone and held it to his ear.

  Michelle hit reverse throttle, and they sped backward out of the slip so fast Williams fell against the gunwale and almost pitched over the side.

  Righting himself, he said, “Shit, Michelle, do you know how to drive this thing? It’s not a damn rowboat.”

  “I’m a fast learner. Sylvia’s house—tell me approximately how far it is from here and the compass heading.”

  Todd gave her his best estimate, and she swiftly calculated time, distance and route. Actually, while at the Secret Service she’d become quite an accomplished sailor, piloting everything from cigarette boats while guarding former presidents with a love for bone-jarring speed on the water to docile paddleboats with said former presidents’ grandchildren as her very precious passengers.

  “Okay, hold on.”

  She pointed the bow out to the open channel and slammed the throttle all the way forward. The big Sea Ray groaned a bit at first, like it was waking up. But then its props cut hard into the water, spitting it in all directions. Its bow rose up in the air like a cagey bronco ready to relieve its rider of his perch, and the boat took an enormous leap forward. They were fully on plane within seconds, and the boat blasted right through forty knots as Michelle headed directly into the jaws of the approaching storm on a twenty-thousand-acre lake without having any idea where she was supposed to be going.

  CHAPTER