Hour Game

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 Ca

He didn't have time to kill Roger Ca

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 Ca

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-"

Ca

They went through the standard questions, to which Ca

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 ma

"Had he ever mentioned that he was seeing Janice Pembroke?" asked Michelle.

"Steve didn't confide in me. If the kid was screwing around with some slut, that was his business. He was seventeen with raging hormones. But if he'd gotten some girl pregnant, I would have been more than upset."

"How long ago did your wife die?" asked Michelle.

Ca

"Just curious."

"Well, confine your curiosity to the matter at hand."

"Okay, can you think of anything at all that Steve might have told you or that you might have overheard him say, or even one of his friends mention, that could shed some light on his murder?" she asked.

"Look, I already told you that we weren't exactly chums. We lived in the same house, but that was about it."

"Is there a reason why you and your son weren't close?" asked King.

"We both had our reasons, and they're not pertinent to his death."

"I'm afraid we need to decide that for ourselves. So if you'd answer the question…"

"I'm afraid I must decline," Ca

"Well, that's up to you. Let's review what you've said. You and your son had what could reasonably be construed as an openly hostile relationship. You were perhaps upset that he was dating some slut, as you called her, and were concerned you'd have to pay for a child at some point. And then Steve and this ‘slut' end up shotgu

Ca

King remained impassive. "No. I'm simply making the argument any competent prosecutor would. What you've told us makes you a possible suspect in your son's death. I'm sure you were asked about your whereabouts when he was killed. I'd like you to tell us as well."

"I was home asleep."

"Alone?"

"Yes!"

"So you have no alibi," concluded King. "Well"-he looked at Michelle-"let's go report back. At least it's another line of investigation the FBI can actively pursue." He looked back at Ca

Ca

"With all due respect, Mr. Ca

Ca

After a minute of silence, as though he were searching for just the right words, he said, "Steve was, quite simply, his mother's child. He adored her, worshiped her. When she died, he somehow blamed me."

"I don't recall what she died of," said King.