Hour Game

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.

As the car ahead of him pulled into a long driveway heading up to a large brick colonial, he turned off on a side road, parked the truck and pulled down a pair of earphones that had been hidden under his hat. He tinkered with a receiver on the front seat, found the correct frequency to the transmitter he'd hidden in the Canney home, settled back and waited for the show to begin.

CHAPTER 47

"SO WHAT DOES ROGER CANNEY do?" asked Michelle as she looked around the impressive home. A housekeeper had let them in and gone to get her employer.

"I don't know, but whatever it is, he does it well," answered King.

"What did his wife die of?"

"I don't know that either. I'm not friends of theirs."

Michelle kept looking around. "You know what I'm not seeing?"

King nodded. "There are no family pictures."

"What do you make of that?"

"Either they were recently pulled because of the father's overwhelming grief or they were never here."

"Overwhelming grief? Essentially, he buried his only son under cover of darkness."

"Everyone exhibits their emotions differently, Michelle. Some people, for example, kick wooden posts in half when they're upset."

Roger appeared a minute later, a tall, craggy man with stooped shoulders and an unhappy, wan expression. He motioned them to sit on the couch in the living room, and he sat across from them. The man didn't bother to look at them when he spoke, instead resting his gaze on the beamed ceiling.

"I'm not sure why another interview is necessary," he began.

King said, "I know this is an awfully difficult time-"

Canney interrupted. "Right, right, let's just get on with it."

They went through the standard questions, to which Canney answered in extremely unhelpful monosyllables.

Frustrated, King asked, "So no enemies at school that you know of? Or that your son might have mentioned?"

"Steve was very popular. Everyone just loved him. He could do no wrong."

This was not said in the tone of a proud father, but in a mocking manner. King and Michelle exchanged puzzled glances.