Hour Game (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 2)

“I’ll pay you whatever you want,” she persisted, ignoring his denial. She looked at the half-built house. “I’ll pay for a first-rate crew to come here and finish this house for you. I’ll double its size; give you a damn swimming pool, whatever you want.” She drew right in front of him, one of her hands seizing his faded jean jacket in a very firm grip. “Whatever you or Lulu want I’ll give you. But in return I want those things back. Just give them to me and all the charges go away, and you have yourself a really nice house. And you can keep the damn ring.”

“Mrs. Battle, I—”

She slapped him across the face, stunning him into silence. He would have killed any man who did that to him. Yet he made no move to retaliate.

“But if you don’t give them to me, I’l

l make you wish for twenty hard years in prison. You’ll beg for that after I get through with you. I know people, Junior, don’t think I don’t. They’ll come see you. You’ll never forget their visit.” She let go of his jacket. “I’ll give you a little

time to think about it, but not too much.”

She turned to leave but then looked back at him. “One more thing, Junior. If you try to use any of it, in any way at all, or if you show it to another human being, I will come and see you myself. With a twelve-gauge shotgun that my daddy gave me right before he died. And I will blow your big, ugly head off your shoulders. Do you understand me, son?” This was all said in such a calm yet chilling tone that Junior could hear every one of his heartbeats smacking in his ears.

Remmy Battle didn’t seem to think an answer to her question was necessary. She put her glasses back on, turned and left as quietly as she’d come.

Junior just stood there, his big belly heaving, and watched her go. He’d been in many a bar fight in his life against some very large men intent on doing him bodily harm; he’d even been cut up a few times. He’d been scared during those incidents. However, that was nothing compared with the terror he was feeling right now, for he had no doubt the crazy woman meant every word she’d just said.

CHAPTER

35

LATER THAT WEEK CHIP

Bailey of the FBI called an early morning meeting of all law enforcement personnel engaged in the search for the murderer or murderers of five people. It was held at the Wrightsburg Police headquarters, which King—who was in attendance along with Michelle, Todd Williams and assorted Virginia State Police and FBI folks—thought made a cheap-shot statement as to who was now running the show. The FBI, after all, was the eight-hundred-pound gorilla. His resulting bad temper exhibited itself rather quickly.

“We have a profile,” said Bailey as his assistant handed out folders to those situated around the table.

“Let me guess,” said King. “Caucasian male in his twenties to thirties, at least a high school education and possibly even some college. I.Q. above average, but has trouble holding a job; firstborn to working-class parents, childhood trauma, dominant mother, possibly illegitimate, who showed interest in law enforcement and is a loner control freak who also expressed early enthusiasm for sadomasochistic pornography, voyeurism and torturing of small animals.”

“Did you already get a copy of the report?” growled Bailey.

“No. But most of them say that or something pretty damn close.”

“That’s because serial killers share those sorts of traits. That’s been clearly established over time,” Bailey fired back. “In fact, everything in this profile has been substantiated over time. Unfortunately, we’ve had lots of experience. Over three-quarters of the serial killers in the world are in this country with well over one thousand murders to their collective credit since 1977, and two-thirds of the victims were women. The only interesting thing about this guy is, he seems to be a mix of organized and disorganized in his approach. Restraints used in one case but not in the others. One victim transported, the others not. One body hidden in the woods, the others left where they fell. Weapon absent in one case, but not in the others. This is based on hard data, Sean.”

“Most of them probably do fit that profile, but not all. Some don’t fit neatly in any box.”

“And you think this is one of those times?” asked Williams.

“Think about it. None of the victims have been sexually assaulted or mutilated; in serial killings that’s almost always a component. And let’s look at the targets. Most serial killers aren’t exactly brave. They grab for the low-hanging fruit: children, runaways, prostitutes, young homosexual males and the mentally afflicted.”

Bailey shot back, “One of the victims was an exotic dancer and maybe a prostitute at some point. And two others were high school kids. And another was lying in a coma in a hospital bed. That’s pretty easy pickings if you ask me.”

“We don’t know if Rhonda Tyler was a prostitute. And even if she was, was she killed because she was a prostitute or for some other reason? And Canney and Pembroke weren’t runaways. And do you really think a Ted Bundy type killer is going to sneak into a hospital room and shoot stuff into an elderly stroke victim’s IV bag?” He paused to let this all sink in and then added, “And Bobby Battle was a very wealthy man. There might be other people who wanted him dead.”

“Meaning two killers out there?” said Bailey skeptically.

“Meaning we don’t know, but we can’t ignore that possibility,” shot back King.

Bailey was undeterred. “I’ve had a little more experience doing this than you, Sean, and until something else turns up that causes me to change my mind, this is the profile we’re using, and we’re going under the assumption that we only have one killer at work.” He eyed King closely. “I understand that you two have been deputized.” He nodded at Michelle. “I want you to know that I have no problem with that. In fact, in my book, having two more seasoned professionals on the case is a good thing.”

But, said King to himself.

“But,” said Bailey, “we have established protocols for how we do things. We need to coordinate and keep each other informed. We all need to be on the same page.”

Williams said through clenched teeth, “And of course the Bureau will be the central clearinghouse for everything.”

“That’s right. If any promising leads come up, I want to know about them pronto. Then we can evaluate who’s best suited to run them down.”