David Baldacci - Hour Game

"Right now I can't, but I'm telling you that if you stop looking for the real killer-or more likely, killers-other people could die."

"We're not going to stop, Sean," said Williams, "but if no more people are killed, it's pretty good evidence Canney is the one."

"You don't believe that, Todd, no matter how much you want to." King rose. "Come on, Michelle, I need some air."

Outside the police station, King leaned against Michelle's truck, shoved his hands in his pockets and scattered a bunch of gravel with an angry thrust of his foot.

"You know, either Chip Bailey is the biggest idiot I've ever met or…"

"Or maybe he's right, and you can't bring yourself to admit it," finished Michelle.

"Oh, you think so? Damn, my own partner conspiring against me," he said with a resigned grin. "Maybe I am wrong."

Michelle shrugged. "I think pinning the whole thing on Canney is way too much of a stretch, but like Bailey said, we don't have much of an alternative theory."

"There are things we know, things that are dangling right in front of our faces that we're not even seeing. If I could just grab them and hang on, I know it would lead us where we need to go. But it's driving me crazy that I can't see them."

"I think I know a remedy."

He looked at her dubiously. "I'm not running in a marathon or going bungee jumping in order to get my brain firing better."

"What I'm thinking requires no physical exertion at all."

"An absolutely stunning concept, coming from you."

Michelle stared at the beautiful blue sky. "I say it's boating time. Nothing like a spin on the water to get the mental juices flowing again, especially on a day like this."

"We don't have time-" King stopped and his expression turned softer. "Okay, after nearly being killed twice, maybe a little break wouldn't be so bad."

"I knew you'd see my logic. Sea-Doos or jet boat?"

"Jet boat. I'm getting tired of you always wanting to race on the Sea-Doos."

"That's just because I always beat you."

KING WAS AT THE WHEEL, AND Michelle sat next to him in the twenty-foot Bombardier jet boat as they cruised along at thirty knots over the lake's calm surface. The summer season was still a ways off, so they had the water pretty much to themselves.

"How much of Cardinal Lake have you seen?" asked King.

"A lot. I don't let the grass grow under my feet."

King went on in a pedantic tone. "You know, this lake was formed by damming up two rivers and letting the water back up over ten years. The end result was a very deep thirty-mile-long lake with excellent fishing, water sports and about two hundred coves and inlets."

"Wow, you sound just like the real estate agent who sold me my place. Do you also refinance mortgages?"

They headed toward the hydroelectric dam, which was really two dams, an upper and a lower one. Then they hit the main channel and turned west. Where the two rivers came together, King headed north until they came to a smaller channel that doglegged north and then east. They kept this heading, passing the even-numbered red channel markers that ran upriver, until he pulled back on the throttle and steered straight into a small uninhabited cove. A few minutes later they'd anchored down in about twenty feet of clear water, and King pulled out a basket of food and a cooler with sodas and water he'd put together.

"I'm going to swim before we eat," said Michelle.

"How's your arm?"

"Will you stop with the arm? It was only a nick to begin with."

"Why do I think if you took a thirty-thirty round through your chest, you'd only ask for a Band-Aid, and a small one at that?"

She stripped down to her one-piece swimsuit and dove in.

"God, the water's great," she said after coming back up.

King eyed his instrument panel. "Water temp's seventy-five, still a little cool for me. I'm an eighty-one, eighty-two kind of guy."

"You mean you're a wimp."

"That's another way of putting it, yes."

After they'd had their lunch, King pulled up the anchor and they started off again. Michelle pointed to a long, wide point up ahead. It was quite a sight: a six-slip boat dock with a gazebo, bar, dining area and equipment sheds and about six thousand square feet of decking, all encased in cedar siding and shake roofing. It just begged for an Architectural Digest spread.

"That's pretty impressive. Who owns it?"

"What, you lose your sense of direction on the water? That's Casa Battle."

"What! I didn't even know they were on the lake."

"You don't put up a mansion in Wrightsburg without lakefront access. They have the whole point plus about twenty more acres. Their dock is a ways from the main house. In fact, you can't even see the mansion from the lake. I think they designed it that way so there wouldn't be gawkers coming by on boats all the time. They use golf carts to come and go."

"What a life." She squinted against the intense sunlight. "Who's that out there on the sailboat?"

King grabbed his binoculars and zeroed in on the skipper of the other boat. " Savannah." He pondered for a moment, then fingered the throttle forward and steered toward the sailboat.

"What are you doing?"

"Going fishing."

They drew close to the sailboat that was little more than a Sunfish. Savannah had one hand on the tiller and the other on a can of Coke. She waved when she saw who it was.

"Great minds think alike," called out King.

Savannah had a long tank shirt on over her two-piece bathing suit. Her hair was wet and pulled back in a ponytail, and her shoulders and face had already started to redden from the sun.

"The water's amazing," she said.

"Sean won't go in until it hits bathwater status," said Michelle.

"Don't know what you're missing, Mr. King," said Savannah.

"Well, I could be tempted if you two were to join me."

They each took a minute to drop their anchors, and then first Savannah and then Michelle dove in. When they came up, King was still sitting on his boat's swim platform, his feet dangling in the water.

"What are you doing, Sean?" said Michelle.

"I said I could be tempted, not that I'd actually do it."

Michelle and Savannah looked at each other, a silent communication passing between the two women. They both went under the water. When they came back up next to where King sat, each had one of his feet in her hands.

"Oh, no, you-," began King. Whatever else he was about to say was lost as he was pulled into the lake and immediately went under. He came up spitting water and cursing loudly.

"These aren't swim trunks!" he shouted.

"They are now," replied Savannah smugly.

After a half hour in the water they navigated their boats to the dock and sat in the gazebo drinking beers that Savannah fetched from the bar fridge.

Michelle looked around at the mountain and water vistas. "Quite a view."

"This is really my favorite part of the whole place," said Savannah.

King eyed the Battles' collection of boats. "I've been out on the big Sea Ray cruiser, but I don't remember that Formula 353 FasTech. It's a beauty."

"Daddy had just bought it last winter. The marina folks came and prepped it for summer. We haven't even put any hours on the engine yet. Eddie's the real boater in the family. I just like to ride on them and catch some sun and drink beer. Eddie said he'd take it out soon and break it in. I understand it's really fast, got some monster engines."

King said, "I'll say, twin five-hundred-horsepower Merc EFIs; a top speed north of seventy and a cruising speed at right about double nickels. Tell Eddie I'd be glad to help him break it in."

"My, my," Savannah said in an exaggerated southern accent, "and here I was having such a dee-lightful time on my little old no-horsepower sailboat."