Hour Game

The rake and knife were dropped beside the body as the killer continued to hover. The face held an expression of fury, of hatred for the fallen woman. A moment later Sally was alone in her death, the straw all around soaked through with her blood. The only sound was that of the horse as it jostled the stable door, waiting impatiently for its morning ride; a ride that wouldn't be coming.

CHAPTER 70

KING SETTLED HIMSELF IN THE bed in the tiny guest room of Michelle's small cottage. As the sky lightened, he could hear Michelle in the kitchen clanking dishes and utensils, and he shuddered to think what inedible concoction she was making for him this time. She was forever trying to get him to drink power shakes and eat energy bars with low carbs, no carbs, or just the "right" carbs, promising him his body would feel the miraculous change overnight.

"I'm not really hungry," he called out weakly. "Just fix yourself something, maybe some cardboard with a little tofu."

The pots continued to clank and water ran and he distinctly heard the crack of eggs and then a blender starting up.

"Oh, God," he groaned, and lay back against the pillows. Raw eggs in a blender with who knows what. He decided to start thinking about the case, to take his mind off the impending gustatory nightmare.

Seven deaths starting with Rhonda Tyler and ending, at least so far, with Kyle Montgomery. Five of the deaths he believed were by the same killer. Bobby Battle and Kyle were not, he thought. Whether they'd been killed by the same person, he didn't know. And now his life had been almost taken, and Michelle's as well. There seemed to be an abundance of potential suspects and a dearth of clues. At every stage the killer or killers seemed to be one step ahead. They'd gone to see Junior, but the killer had gotten there first. Sylvia had told him about Kyle and the thefts and the lady at the Aphrodisiac. By the time they'd started investigating that, Kyle too was dead. Sally had come to tell him about her sexual encounter with Junior, and an attempt had been made on his life shortly thereafter.

He sat upright in bed.

Sally!

"Michelle," he called out. The clattering was still going on. She obviously couldn't hear him. He got up and staggered into the kitchen. His balance was still off. She was at the sink cutting up an onion and putting it into the blender, where a yellowish-green ooze currently resided.

She turned and saw him. "What are you doing up?" she said in a scolding tone.

"We have to check on Sally."

"Sally? Why?"

"She came to see me last night with some important information. Right after she left, I went to sleep. That's when my heater was messed with." He told Michelle about Sally's being with Junior on the night of the burglary.

"Well, that qualifies as a stunning development. And you're afraid the person who tried to kill us might have seen Sally there too?"

"Nothing would surprise me with this guy. He always seems to know everything in advance."

Michelle wiped off her hands, picked up her cell phone and called Todd Williams. She relayed a message to the chief and clicked off. "He's heading over there with some of his men right now."

"Maybe we should go there too."

"The only place you're going is back to bed."

"Look at you: you've been shot, and you're still assaulting eggs and knifing onions."

"Just go get in bed. I'm sure Sally's okay. Todd promised to call."

King reluctantly did so. He supposed the odds were very long against anything having happened to Sally so quickly.

Savannah was beating on the door of the carriage house so hard her hands were starting to bruise. Dorothea finally answered the door in her robe. Savannah nearly fell inside.

Dorothea saw the terrified look on the woman's face and said, "My God, Savannah, what is it?"

She pointed in the direction of the nearby stables. "I found… I found Sally. In the stables. She's dead. Her head crushed. Oh, my God, she's dead!" she shrieked.

Dorothea looked frantically around as though the killer might be hiding in her foyer. She raced up the stairs to the bedroom, where Eddie lay sleeping.

"Eddie! Savannah found Sally dead in the stables. Eddie!"

He lay motionless in the bed. She drew closer. "Eddie!" She grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently. "Eddie, wake up."

All she got in return was a small groan. She checked his pulse. It was very faint, as was his breathing, terrifyingly so. She grabbed a glass of water off the nightstand and threw it in his face. This did nothing. She lifted his right eyelid. The pupil was a pinprick. The drug-savvy Dorothea knew what that meant. She picked up the phone and called 911, then she ran back down the stairs where Savannah was squatting right by the door, sobbing. She was dressed in her riding clothes, Dorothea noted, and her boots had left mud all over the foyer.