She heard a noise behind her and whipped around.
“Michelle?”
It was King, about twenty feet away. He’d taken a different path and was separated from her by a wall of bramble.
“Stay back,” she said between clenched teeth. “He’s stopped right up ahead.”
She turned and waited. One lightning flash; that was all she needed. She edged around the bush, backtracked a bit and then slowly made her way down and around with the goal of coming up behind Eddie.
The flash of lightning. She heard the noise to her right. She pivoted and fired in the same instant. There was an explosion in front of her as a spark of red-hot light erupted for an instant and then vanished.
She couldn’t know it, but Eddie had at the same time been circling around her and had fired at the exact same instant as she. Beating odds of probably a billion to one, the two bullets had collided, causing the explosive spark she’d seen.
Eddie hit her low and hard, driving the breath right out of her before drilling her into the dirt almost face-first. It was a textbook tackle. Mud, leaves and twigs were pushed so far into her mouth she could barely breathe. Michelle twisted her body around and tried to kick at him, but he was on top of her pinning her down. He was unbelievably strong; she couldn’t come close to breaking his iron grip with her fingers; it was like a child trying to escape from her daddy. She tried to get up, but she didn’t have nearly the strength to do it with his 220-plus pounds clenched around her.
Damn it. She spit shit out of her mouth. If she could just push him away, she could deliver stunning blows with her feet that might give her a chance. But he was simply too strong. She felt the hand go around her throat while he kept the other one locked on her arms. She thrashed wildly around trying to throw him off, but she had no leverage. She tried to call out but couldn’t. She started to lose focus. Her brain felt heavy, her limbs started to twitch.
Is this it? Is it?
And then everything relaxed. The weight was lifted. She was free, and Michelle knew she’d just died at the hands of Eddie Lee Battle. She turned to see his face peering down at her, smiling at what he’d just done.
Only he wasn’t looking at her. She sat up, scooted away from him and only then saw what he was staring at.
King was standing there. Both hands were around his pistol grips, the weapon pointed directly at Eddie, who was backing away a little. King’s clothes were torn to shreds and his face and hands bloodied from where he’d fought through the bramble to reach them.
“I wouldn’t have killed her, Sean.”
King was trembling with rage. “Yeah, right, you bastard.”
Eddie continued to back away, his hands up.
“Another step, and you get it between the eyes, Eddie.”
Eddie stopped, but he started to lower his hands.
“Keep ’em up,” barked King.
Michelle rose and looked around for her pistol.
“Hey, Sean, just go ahead and shoot,” said Eddie wearily. “Save the state a lot of money housing me on death row.”
“We’re not doing it that way.”
“Just do it, Sean. I’m beat, man. I got nothing left.”
“You’ll make it. Have no fear.”
“You think so?”
“In fact, I’ll bet you—”
“The hell you say, you’re on—”
Eddie leaped, his hand sliding to his back; he pulled the pistol.
Michelle screamed.
The shot was fired.
King walked over and looked down at Battle lying there. He kicked the pistol away with his foot, stared at the blood pouring down from Eddie’s shoulder where the bullet had impacted before exiting out the man’s back.
“I won the bet this time, Eddie.”
Eddie smiled weakly up at him. “Just one tick off, man. One tick off.”
Chapter 99
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?”