The Sixth Man (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 5)

“Hold on. It’s probably not smart for you to leave the area right now. The police will want to talk to you again at the very least.”

“Then you’re not going either. We split up and each of us almost gets killed.”

“Okay, you’ve got a point. Hang on.” He punched in a number on his phone.

“Phil, Sean King. Look, do you have time to talk tonight face-to-face? Say around eight? Great, thanks.”

He clicked off and motioned to the waitress for the check.

“What are you going to do?” asked Michelle.

“Throw myself on the mercy of the prosecutor’s office to spring you from the confines of Charlottesville. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll mortgage everything I have to post bail.”

“I thought you only had to put up ten percent.”

“Right now, ten percent of just about anything would tax my personal finances. Private investigation is a feast-or-famine business. And I’m not even sure we’re going to get our travel expenses reimbursed now.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“I’ll stuff you in a bag and sneak you out. One way or another we’re going to see Kelly Paul.”

“Think she has all the answers?”

“Actually, just one answer would be a nice change of pace right now.”

CHAPTER

24

WHEN SEAN LEFT the meeting with the prosecutor he was smiling.

Michelle, who was waiting for him in her truck, looked at him inquiringly. “I take it the meeting went well?”

“He’s pigeonholing the arrest for now. No court hearing. No bail. You’re free to go, in my company.”

“You must have done some sell job.”

“Well, that and the fact that the cops found the slug that almost hit you.”

“Nice. What was it?”

“Remington .45 ACP full metal jacket.”

“Not the round that killed Bergin then. An FMJ at contact range would have blown right through his skull.”

“And it wasn’t the guy I spotted in Maine. He couldn’t be in two places at once.”

“They haven’t done the post on Hilary yet, right?”

“Not yet. But I think when they do, they’ll find a .45 round in her.”

A half hour later they were heading toward the home of Kelly Paul in Michelle’s Land Cruiser after Sean turned in his rental. They rode Interstate 64 over to 81 and took that south. Hours later, about thirty minutes before they would have crossed over into Tennessee, they exited the highway, drove west for a few miles, and passed through several one-traffic-light towns. Ten minutes after leaving the last such hamlet, Michelle slowed the truck and looked around before glancing at her GPS screen.

Sean looked at his watch and yawned. “Nearly two in the morning. If I don’t get eight hours of sleep soon my head is going to disintegrate.”

“I slept fine in jail.”

“No surprise there. I’ve seen your bed. The one in jail is probably softer.”