Hour Game (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 2)

“When you caught me, you said it was over, I said it wasn’t.”

“Congratulations.”

Eddie changed course to the east, cutting across a big wave that jolted the FasTech hard. King hit his head on the molded fiberglass behind him.

“If you don’t slow it down, you’ll kill us long before you get to where you’re going.”

In response Eddie eased the throttle forward even more.

“Eddie, please,” wailed Sylvia from the back.

“Shut up!”

“Eddie—,” she began again.

Eddie turned and fired a bullet within an inch of Sylvia’s left ear. She screamed and threw herself on the deck.

With an enormous crack a thin bolt of lightning hit a tree on a small island as they flashed by. The oak exploded, sending charred wood sailing into the water. The accompanying clap of thunder was far louder even than the Mercs.

King inched himself forward. Tied up like this, he had no chance against someone as physically strong as Battle. Even in a fair fight he probably couldn’t hold his own. He glanced back at Sylvia. She still lay on the deck. He could hear her sobs over all the other sounds. He struggled to sit up, finally making it. He slid his back against the side of the boat and managed to finally hoist himself into a seat next to Eddie.

Eddie looked over at him and smiled. “You like the view from there?”

King gazed around. He knew the lake well, although as every experienced sailor knew, things looked very different in the pitch-dark. Yet at that moment they passed a landmark that he recognized, a five-story condo building built on a clay point that jutted out into one of the lake’s main channels. He shouted, “Looks like we’re heading east, to the dam.” He prayed his cell phone connection was still open. If it wasn’t and Michelle tried to call him back, he couldn’t hit the answer button, and the ringing sound would give it away in any event.

“East to the dam?” he said again, even more loudly.

“You know your lake,” said Eddie, who took another swig of his warm beer, seeming to savor every drop.

“I know why you killed all those people, Eddie.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I figured it out. Tyler, Canney, Junior, Sally. And Hinson and Pembroke to throw us off. One tick off, right? One tick.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“Your father was a horrible man, Eddie. I know he drove you to this. You killed because of him, what he did to your mother, your brother.”

Eddie pointed his pistol at King’s head. “I said you don’t know shit about why I did it.”

King bit his lip, trying to keep his nerves in check, not exactly an easy thing to do right now. “Okay, suppose you tell me?”

“What does it matter, Sean? I’m a psycho, okay? If they don’t burn me in the chair, they should just lock me up and throw away the key. Let somebody slit my belly while I’m asleep in my cell. Then everybody can just take a nice long breath. No more Eddie. It’s cool, no more Eddie, and the world just keeps right on trucking.” He eyed King and smiled. “Hey, at least when you die, there’ll be plenty of people to mourn you. I don’t have anybody.”

“Dorothea?”

“Yeah, right.”

“Remmy will.”

“You think so?”

“You don’t?”

Eddie shook his head. “Let’s just not go there.”

“Tell me about Steve Canney.”