Hour Game (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 2)

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.