David Baldacci - Hour Game

"I won the bet this time, Eddie."

Eddie smiled weakly up at him. "Just one tick off, man. One tick off."

EDDIE BATTLE PLEADED GUILTY TO every murder he'd committed. In return for fully cooperating with the authorities and answering all their questions, and because there was some doubt as to his mental stability, his attorneys were able to broker a deal that would send him to prison without the possibility of ever being free again. There was immediate reaction from all corners. Pro-death-penalty activists marched in the streets of Wrightsburg. There were calls for impeachment of the governor, the prosecutors and the judge assigned to the case. The Battle family-at least what remained of them-was ankle-deep in death threats. It was predicted that whatever maximum security prison he was sent to, Battle would be dead within a month.

King hadn't followed much of this. After shooting Eddie he'd helped carry him and Sylvia down to the boats where they'd been taken to the hospital. Both had fully recovered, though King doubted Sylvia would ever be the same after her terrifying experience.

Hell, I might never be the same, thought King.

He'd taken long rides on his boat, driving across in the daylight what he'd covered that awful night. He and Michelle had talked about it some but had mostly avoided the subject. They were drained enough. However, she'd been effusive in her thanks for saving her.

She kept shaking her head at the memory of it. "I've never felt so helpless like that before, Sean. I've never encountered a man that strong before. It was like he was possessed by something not of this world."

"I think he was," replied King.

All of which brought King to where he was right now, sitting at his desk and wondering what Eddie had meant by his last words while lying bleeding on that hill.

"Just one tick off, man." The five words beat into his head, and he couldn't get rid of them. He finally rose from his desk and drove over to the Battles'. Remmy was home, Mason told him.

There were several pieces of luggage stacked in the foyer.

"Someone going on a trip?" asked King.

" Savannah 's taken a job overseas. She's leaving today."

Lucky her, thought King as Mason led him down the hallway.

Remmy seemed a very pale version of her former self. She was sipping from her cup of coffee. King felt certain it was actually nine-tenths Mr. Beam.

"I hear Savannah 's moving out," he said after Mason had left them.

"Yes, but she said she might come back for Christmas," the mother said hopefully.

Or not,thought King.

"Is Dorothea out of rehab?"

"Yes. She's back next door. I'm going to help her with her money problems."

"That's good to know. No reason not to spread the wealth. And she is family. The police no longer suspect her in Kyle's death?"

"I don't think they do. I doubt they'll ever solve that."

"You never know."

Neither said a word about Eddie. What was there to say anyway?

King was anxious to leave, so he decided to just get to it. "Remmy, I came here to ask you one question. It's about a former employee of yours, Billy Edwards?"

She looked at him sharply. "The mechanic?"

"That's right."

"What's the question?"

"I need the exact date when he left."

"The payroll records will show that."

"I was hoping you'd say that." He looked at her expectantly.

"Do you want them now?"

"Right now."

When she returned with them, King had turned to leave but then something made him stop.

He stared down at the meticulously groomed and attired Remington Battle sitting there in a beautiful old chair, the epitome of the aristocratic southern grande dame.

She glanced up. "Is there something else?" she asked him coldly.

"Was it worth it?"

"Was what worth it?"

"Being Bobby Battle's wife. Was it worth losing both your sons?"

"How dare you!" she said sharply. "Do you realize the hell I've been through?"

"Yeah, it's really been a piece of cake for me too. Why don't you try answering my question?"

"Why should I?" she retorted.

"Call it a gracious act by a refined and dignified lady."

"Your sarcasm is absolutely lost on me."

"Then let me lay it straight out for you. Bobby Jr. was your child. How could you just let him die?"

"It wasn't like that!" she said, her voice rising. "You think it was an either/ or choice? You think I didn't love my son?"

"Words are easy, it's the actions that are hard, Remmy. Like standing up to your husband. Like telling him you didn't give a shit where he got the disease but that your son was getting treatment for it. It's not like it's that hard to diagnose, even back then. You put the kid on penicillin and chances are extremely good you'd have both your sons in your life right now. Did you ever think about it in those terms?"

Remmy started to say something and then stopped. She set her cup of coffee down and folded her hands in her lap.

"Maybe I wasn't as strong back then as I am now." King saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "But I finally did make the right decision. I took Bobby Jr. to all sorts of specialists."

"But it was too late."

"Yes," Remmy said quietly. "And then the cancer came. And he just couldn't fight it off." She brushed at her tears, reached for her coffee but then stopped and looked up at him.

"Everyone has to make choices in life, Sean," she said.

"And lots of people make the wrong choices."

Remmy seemed about to make some biting comment, but King stopped her cold when he took a photo off the shelf and held it up. It was of Eddie and Bobby Jr. as children. She suddenly put a hand to her mouth as though to stifle a sob. She looked at him, the tears sliding down her cheeks now. "Bobby was a very different man when we first married. Maybe that's the one I was clinging to, hoping he'd come back."

King put the photo back. "I think any man who lets his own son die without lifting a hand to save him isn't a man worth waiting for."

He walked out and never looked back.

As King came outside, he saw a driver was loading Savannah 's bags into a black sedan. Savannah climbed out of the car and approached King.

She said, "I wanted to see you before I left. I heard some of what you said to my mother. I wasn't eavesdropping. I was just passing by."

"Frankly, I don't know whether to pity or loathe her."

She stared at the house. "She always wanted to be the matriarch of this great southern family. You know, sort of a dynasty."

"She didn't quite make it," commented King.

Savannah stared at him. "That's the thing… I think she made herself believe that she had made it. She hated my father in private and yet idolized him in public. She loved her sons and yet sacrificed them to preserve her marriage. It makes no sense. All I know is I'm getting the hell away. I'll spend the next ten years trying to figure it out. But I'm going to do it from a distance."

They hugged, and King held the car door for her.

"Best of luck, Savannah."

"Oh, Sean, please tell Michelle thanks for everything she did."

"I will."

"And tell her I took her advice on my tattoo."

King looked at her quizzically but said nothing. He waved as the car sped off.

King drove to the Wrightsburg Gazette and unwittingly sat at the same microfiche machine that Eddie had when he broke in that night.

King raced through the spool of back issues until he found the date he was looking for, the day Edwards had been let go. He didn't find what he was searching for. Then it occurred to him that it might have happened too late to make the next day's edition. He forwarded to the day after that. He didn't have to read far. It was front-page news. He read the story carefully, sat back and then finally laid his head down on the desk as his mind began to creep into areas that were truly unthinkable.