Hour Game by David Baldacci Page A

situation is a little awkward, so fire away.”
    “Apparently, your father had a secret drawer in his closet that things were taken from. Your mother didn’t know about the drawer and thus didn’t know what might have been in it. Did you know about any of that?”
    “No. As far as I knew, my parents didn’t have any secrets from each other.”
    “Yet they kept separate bedrooms?” said Michelle abruptly.
    Eddie’s sunny smile faded. “That’s their business. It didn’t mean they didn’t sleep together or didn’t love each other. Dad smoked cigars and liked his room a certain way. Mom can’t breathe around cigars and she likes her things a certain way. It’s a big house, and they can do anything they damn well please in it.”
    King looked apologetic. “I told you it was awkward.”
    Eddie looked ready to bark at them again but then seemingly mastered this impulse. “I didn’t know about any secret drawer Dad had. But I’m not his confidant.”
    “Does he have a confidant like that? Maybe Savannah?”
    “Savannah? No, I’d cross off my little sister as a potential inside information source.”
    “I guess she’d been away at college,” prompted Michelle.
    “She’s been away all right and it started long before college.”
    “I take it you two aren’t that close,” said Michelle.
    Eddie shrugged. “It’s no one’s fault, really. I’m nearly twiceher age and we have nothing in common.
I
was in college when she was born.”
    “Your mother mentioned to us what happened to you back then,” said King.
    Eddie spoke slowly. “I don’t remember much about it, to tell the truth. I’d never even seen the person who kidnapped me until they showed me his body.” He blew out a long breath. “I was really, really lucky. My mother and father were so happy when I got back they conceived Savannah. At least that’s the official family anecdote.”
    “Your mother said Chip Bailey became a good friend.”
    “He saved my life. How do you ever repay that?”
    King glanced at Michelle. “I know what you mean.”
    They heard a car driving up, and it screeched to a stop near the front door.
    “That would be Dorothea. She doesn’t like to waste time getting places,” said Eddie.
    Michelle glanced out the window and saw the big black Beemer. The woman who got out of the car was dressed in a tight, short black skirt with black shoes and black stockings, and her wavy hair color matched that ensemble. She took off her sunglasses, glanced sharply at King’s car and then headed to the door.
    Dorothea strode into the room in a pale—if jet-black—imitation of Remmy Battle, it seemed to Michelle. And then she wondered if the younger woman had consciously patterned herself after her mother-in-law in that regard. Fashionably thin with curvy hips, a round firm bottom and slender, sexy legs, the woman possessed a disproportionately large bosom that had doubtless seen professional work. Her mouth was a little too wide for her face and the lipstick a little too red for her pale complexion. The eyes were a dull green but shrewd-looking.
    Greetings and introductions were made all around, and then Dorothea drew out a cigarette and lit it while Eddie explained why King and Michelle were there.
    She said, “I’m afraid I can’t help you, Sean.” Dorothea kept her focus on him and seemed to make a point of ignoring Michelle. “I was out of town when it happened.”
    “Right. Either everyone was gone or no one who was here seemed to notice anything,” said Michelle, baiting the woman on purpose.
    The dull green eyes shifted slowly toward her. “I’m sorry if the family and its hired help didn’t work their collective schedules around Junior Deaver’s felonious pursuits,” she said in an icy and condescending tone. If she closed her eyes, Michelle would have sworn it was Remmy Battle speaking. Before Michelle could return fire, Dorothea looked back at King. “I think you’re hunting the wrong fox