Hour Game (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 2)

“What’s to tell?”

“You’re an honorable man, Eddie. You should’ve lived a hundred and fifty years ago. So grant a condemned man his last request. Talk to me.”

Eddie finally smiled. “What the hell? Okay, here it is. I’d just gotten back from college. My parents were on the outs again. Savannah was about two years old, and Dad was already tired of her. I knew the bastard was screwing around again. I followed him and saw him with the Canney woman. When she had her son, I broke into the hospital, checked the blood-type records. Roger Canney wasn’t the father. I knew who was.”

“Was Savannah Bobby and Remmy’s child?”

“Oh, yeah. I think Dad believed Mom was really going to divorce him this time. So she suddenly ended up very pregnant. Whether the sex was consensual or not, you’d have to ask her.”

“Why the hell didn’t they just divorce?”

“Bobby Battle’s wife leaving him? No way that control freak would ever let that happen. That would’ve been a sign of failure. The great Bobby Battle never failed. Never!”

“Remmy could have divorced him if she’d wanted to.”

“I guess she didn’t want to.”

King debated whether to ask the next question, deciding this might be the only chance he got. He was also thinking that the longer he kept Eddie talking, the longer he and Sylvia would stay alive. And who knew, he might just be able to persuade him to let them both live. “Why didn’t you kill the boy, Eddie? Tommy Robinson?”

“Figured he’d set up his old man, make my life easier.”

“Come on, you couldn’t be sure of that.”

“So there was no reason to kill him. So what? You think that makes me a Boy Scout because I managed not to kill one stinking kid? You saw what I did to Sally. What the hell did she ever do to me, huh? I smashed her face down to the bone.” He looked down and eased back on the throttle.

The storm was growing fiercer by the minute, and even the FasTech was having difficulty cutting through the now massive wakes. Formula built some of the best boats in the world, and King prayed the fiberglass of this boat could withstand the beating it was taking. Yet they were only one lightning strike from being incinerated when the fuel tank ignited.

“And Junior?”

“That one I felt really shitty about. That stupid Sally. Why didn’t she come forward? Hell, I liked Junior.”

“He wouldn’t let her tell the truth. He didn’t want to hurt his wife.”

“See, there you go. Always better to tell the truth. They’d both be alive if they’d just done that.” Eddie sucked the last drop of beer out of the can and tossed it overboard. He rocked his head back and forth, loosening the thick muscles in his neck. “You’ve killed people before, Sean.”

“Only when they were trying to kill me.”

“I know that, I wasn’t lumping us together. What did it feel like, right before you saw them die and you knew you’d done it?”

King at first thought Eddie was making light of this, but when he caught the man’s gaze locked on the darkness ahead of them, he understand exactly what Eddie was really asking.

“It felt like a piece of me died with them.”

“I guess that’s where you and I are different.”

“You mean you enjoyed it?”

“No, I mean I was already dead when I started killing.” He flexed his arms and shook his head clear. “I wasn’t always this way. I never hurt anyone or anything. I wasn’t one of those people who started out torturing animals and worked my way up to humans. The kind of crap Chip Bailey went on and on about.”

“I never thought you were a run-of-the-mill serial killer.”

“Is that right?” Eddie smiled. “I wanted to play in the NFL. I was good enough, a damn good college player. Could’ve made it in the pros. Well, maybe I could, maybe I couldn’t. Strong as an ox, good wheels, and I

hated to lose—man, I hated that. But it didn’t happen, just wasn’t in the cards. You know, you’re right. I was born too late. The 1800s would’ve suited me a lot better. I’m freaking lost in this century.”

“When did you find out the truth about your brother?”

Eddie eased his gaze over to King and then checked the rear, where Sylvia had once more perched on the edge of the stern seat. Looking back at King, he said slowly, “Why are you asking that?”