Michelle’s entire body tensed.
“Don’t do it, Michelle,” warned King, who was watching her. “Just let it go.”
“Screw you, Sean.”
She marched over to the stepfather and spoke in a low but very clear voice. “Listen, you pathetic little moron, she doesn’t have to press charges personally anymore. The state can do it for her. So when I come back here—and I will—if she even has one tiny mark on her—just one!—I’ll arrest your sorry ass. After I kick the shit out of you first.”
The cigarette fell out of the man’s mouth. “You can’t do that, you’re a cop.”
“I’ll just say you fell down the stairs.”
The man looked at King. “She just threatened me,” he cried.
“I didn’t hear any threat,” said King.
“So that’s the way it’s gonna be, huh? Well, I ain’t afraid of no skinny wench like you.”
There was a five-foot-high wooden post in the front yard holding up an old-fashioned lantern. Michelle walked over to it and, with one sidekick of her powerful right leg, broke the post right in half.
After seeing that, the man’s beer can joined his cigarette on the ground as he stared openmouthed at this demonstration of destruction.
“I’ll be seeing you, sweet-cheeks,” said Michelle, and she walked to the car.
King bent down and picked up a piece of the shattered wood and said to the stricken man, “Damn, can you imagine if that were somebody’s spine?” He handed him forty dollars for repairs and walked off.
As they got in the car, King said, “I think he actually wet his pants.”
“I’ll sleep better knowing he’s not sleeping at all.”
He said in a hurt tone, “Screw you, Sean?”
“I’m sorry, I was upset. But you can’t always turn the other cheek either.”
“Actually, I was very proud of you.”
“Right. No threats on my part will make her situation any better. A guy like that, you never know what he might do. I probably should have just kept my mouth shut.”
“But you’re going to go and check on her, aren’t you?”
“You bet I am.”
“Let me know when you’re thinking of heading over.”
“Why, so you can talk me out of it?”
“No, so I can hold the bastard down while you beat the crap out of him.”
CHAPTER
46
HE’D FOLLOWED KING
and Michelle to the Pembrokes’ and was now trailing them as they headed across town to Roger Canney’s home. He was not driving the blue VW today; an old pickup truck was his ride. A sweat-stained cowboy hat, shades and a stick-on beard and mustache of his own design provided satisfactory cover. The pair of investigators was starting to become a real issue, and he wasn’t sure what to do about them. Pembroke could lead them nowhere; nor could the death of Diane Hinson. And by itself the murder of Rhonda Tyler was also a dead end. Canney was a different matter, though. The boy was the key that could make the entire house of cards come tumbling down.
He didn’t have time to kill Roger Canney, and anyway that would raise even more suspicion about why the high school football star had to die. He had no choice but to let the interview take place, analyze what information was provided and take appropriate action. It was fortunate he’d had the foresight to bug Canney’s home before he’d killed the boy. Tactics, it all comes down to tactics.
He rubbed his back where it had been bruised in the fight with Junior Deaver. He couldn’t afford another encounter like that. He’d watched Michelle Maxwell snap the post in half with a seemingly effortless thrust of her leg. She was a dangerous woman. And King was even more dangerous, in his own way. In fact, Sean King was the only person he really feared could beat him. He might have to do something about that. And then he might have to kill Maxwell as well. He didn’t want the woman coming after him, seeking revenge for her partner’s death.