Hour Game

Eddie shrugged. "It's not that bad. Pretty basic stuff. Kill or be killed and I'm still here." He eyed King with a curious look. "Didn't expect to be seeing you again."

"I had a few questions to ask you. And then I had something to tell you. What do you want first?"

"Give me the questions. The boys in here don't have many. Spend most of my time in the library. Lifting weights, playing ball, getting some of the boys organized into a team. They won't let me paint, though. Guess they're afraid I'll drown somebody in a bucket. Shoot."

"First question: Did your father's stroke start everything in motion?"

Eddie nodded. "I'd been thinking about it for a while. Wasn't sure if I'd have the balls to actually do it. When the old man went down, it just snapped in my head. Now or never."

"Second question: Why kill Steve Canney? I thought you did it for your mother, but now I know that wasn't the case."

Eddie shifted in his seat, the shackles rattling. One of the guards looked over. Eddie smiled and waved before looking back at King. "My parents let my brother die, and my old man goes off and has another son with some slut. Well, I didn't want or need another brother. This Canney kid grew up healthy and strong. That should've been Bobby, you hear me? It should've been Bobby." His voice rose higher, and now all four guards looked over. King didn't know if he was more frightened of Eddie or them.

"Third question: What made you kill Junior? At first I thought it was because you believed he'd stolen from your mother. Now I know you wouldn't have cared about that. So why?"

"There was a drawing of my brother that got busted up during the burglary."

"Your mother showed me it."

"It was a drawing of Bobby before he got really sick." Eddie paused and put his shackled hands on the wood in front of him. "I was the one who drew it. I loved that picture. And I wanted it in Mom's room so she'd always know what she did. When I saw it smashed up, I knew I'd kill whoever had done it. I thought Junior had broken it. That was his death sentence."

King suppressed a shudder at Eddie's reasoning for murder and said, "In case you're interested, this has all really hit Remmy hard, though she tries not to show it."

"She's just lucky I didn't have the guts to kill her. "

"Did you come up with the plan to impersonate famous serial killers because of Chip Bailey?"

Eddie grinned. "Old Chippy. Bragged all the time about how much smarter he was than everyone else, how much he knew about serial killers, their M.O. He claimed he could run down the smartest of them. Well, I took him up on that challenge. I think the results speak for themselves."

"If your father hadn't been murdered, what would you have done?"

"Killed him. But before I did I was going to tell him about all the people I'd killed and why. I wanted him to know what he'd done. For once in his life I wanted him to take responsibility."

"Last question. Why'd you take something from each of your victims?"

"So I could plant them at Harold Robinson's, to put the blame on him." He paused, his brow wrinkled, and he finally said in a low voice, "I guess I'm just like my old man."

King understood that this was by far the harshest sentence Eddie could have been given, and it was a self-imposed one. That was why he had asked the question.

"So what'd you come here to tell me?"

King sunk his voice low. "That you were right about Sylvia. I confronted her with it all, but I can't prove any of it, though I'll keep trying."

"Did you figure out my ‘Teet' clue?"

"Yeah."

"Found out about him when I went down to the FBI at Quantico with Chip once."

"Sylvia's moved away from Wrightsburg, probably set up a new life under another name."

"Lucky her."

"I haven't told anyone else about it, not even Michelle."

"I guess it doesn't matter."

"Itdoes matter, Eddie, there's just nothing I can do about it right now. I have no proof. She covered her tracks really well, but I'll keep trying." King rose. "I won't be back to see you."

"I know." As Eddie started to rise, he called out, "Hey, Sean, can you tell Michelle I wouldn't have really hurt her that night? And tell her I enjoyed our dance together."

The last image King had of the man was him shuffling off surrounded by the guards. And then Eddie Battle was gone. King hoped forever.

As he was leaving the prison, King was stopped and given a package at the visitor's center. He was only told that it had been mailed here and they were to hold it for him. It was actually addressed to Michelle. He got back in the car.

"What's that?" she asked.

"It's for you. We'll stop for lunch at that diner we passed earlier, and you can open it."

It was truly a greasy spoon full of truckers, but the food was good and the coffee hot. They found a spot near the back and ate their lunch.

"Don't you want to know how he is?" asked King.

"No. Why, did he ask about me?"

King hesitated and said, "No, he never mentioned you."

Michelle swallowed her bite and chased it with some coffee.

"One thing still has me puzzled," she said.