In for the Kill [Hawkman Series Book 9]

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  “What exactly did this person say to you inside and outside of the shop?"

  “I don't know if I can tell you verbatim, but he asked the baker about your hours, which I thought innocent enough, until we got outside. Then he grabbed my arm, pointed to your sign and asked me what I knew about you. Needless to say, it made me a bit uncomfortable. Especially when he wanted to know if you'd ever been in the Agency.” She threw up her hands and shrugged. “I told him I had no idea what sort of past you had, as I'd never met you. I'd only heard by word of mouth, Tom Casey ran the best private investigator service in Siskiyou County."

  “Thank you. Could you describe him?"

  Hawkman took notes, even though she pretty much verified Clyde's description.

  “Did you by any chance notice his vehicle?"

  “Yes, for my own personal reasons. As I said, he made me very nervous.” She reached for her purse and dug into the contents. “In fact, I took down his license plate number."

  Hawkman smiled. “Fantastic."

  She finally located a small notebook, flipped it open, and tore out a page. “He was driving a bronze colored late model Buick. Then she recited the number. It could have been a rental; you can't tell anymore."

  He jotted down the information, then glanced up. “In my business, I have ways of finding out."

  She grinned. “I bet you do.” Tucking the paper and pad back into her purse, she stood. “Well, Mr. Casey, I've told you everything I know about this person. Wish I could have supplied you with a name. If he's the one causing you problems, I hope you catch him and bring him to justice."

  “Thank you, Ms. Rawlings. I appreciate your coming by."

  “It's easier than trying to set up an appointment, as my schedule can be hectic."

  “I can imagine. My wife is the one who clarified who you were. She remembered you from the wedding."

  “I'm flattered. Tell her to keep writing."

  “I sure will.” Hawkman walked her to the door and held it open as she descended the stairs. After she turned the corner, he immediately went to the computer and logged into a paid site where he typed in the license plate number she'd given.

  * * *

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It took a few moments for the computer to search out the license plate number of the Buick. While staring at the monitor, Hawkman took a big mouthful of cold coffee and wrinkled his nose as he sat down the cup. Soon, the answer popped up: a rental company owned the car. He wrote down the information, then slouched back in his chair. It really didn't surprise him, but he'd hoped for a bit more information. How to find who leased the car could present a challenge. At least he had more data to go on, thanks to Ms. Rawlings’ alertness.

  He studied the description again, but still couldn't place the man in his past. Clyde and Rita had mentioned green eyes. They must've been an outstanding feature. His own were the same color, but they sure didn't arouse people's attention. He chuckled to himself. Of course, the first thing anyone noticed about him was the patch. A little hard to forget. Once he greeted folks, they never forgot who they'd met.

  He leaned forward and shuffled the loose papers into a stack, then decided to take a couple of case files home. The thought of Jennifer being alone bothered him and he could work just as easily at his office there. He crammed everything into a briefcase and headed out the door.

  When he reached the foot of the stairs, the baker's assistant hurried out the door, wiping his hands on his apron. “Mr. Casey, Clyde said you wanted to know the name of the lady who came into the shop last week. Her name is Reverend Rita Rawlings."

  Hawkman didn't have the heart to tell the young man he already knew. “Thanks Gary. Helps a lot."

  “She's a nice lady and did a great job in the wedding when she married my cousin."

  Hawkman waved as he headed for his vehicle. “Appreciate your help."

  When he arrived home, it relieved him to see the alarm set and the door locked. He deactivated the system and went inside. Jennifer sat at her computer and grinned, put a finger to her lips, then pointed toward the big window that overlooked the lake. The cat sat still as a statue on the wide ledge; only her tail twitched as she gazed out at the aviary where Hawkman's pet falcon, Pretty Girl, lived. He tiptoed toward the kitten, bent over and whispered harshly into the feline's ear. “Don't even think about it."

  She leaped from the ledge, scampered across the carpet and hid behind the chair.

  The air rang with Jennifer's peals of laughter. “Oh, she's so funny."

  “How long has she been in the trance?"

  “When she spotted Pretty Girl fluffing her wings, she snuck upon the window ledge and has been staring at the falcon for at least an hour. It's like she went into another world. I've actually been able to sit down and write for awhile."

  “She'd better not get any ideas about catching that hawk. The bird would tear her apart with its claws and beak."

  “Don't worry. There's no way I'd let her near the cage. But it's pretty harmless for her to daydream. After all, she's a cat.” Jennifer crossed the room and put her arm around his waist. “You're home early. Everything okay?"

  “I didn't get shot at, and no one followed me. No suspicious looking cars in the area. So far, so good. I did have a nice chat with Ms. Rita Rawlings."

  She stepped back. “Really. Tell me about it."

  He put his briefcase on the coffee table, and tossed his hat on the couch, then ran a hand over his mussed hair. “A very nice lady.” He told Jennifer about her visit.

  “You mean she actually thought fast enough to get the license plate number from his car?"

  “Yep. Unfortunately, my computer search revealed it was a rental. Finding out who leased it will be a harder job. Those places aren't going to give me any information without a court order."

  “Did the description of the man ring any bells?"

  “No. I've racked my brain and can't remember anyone with dark hair and green eyes. I think his orbs must be pretty outstanding, as both Clyde and Ms. Rawlings mentioned them. I think if I had a name or some event to shake my memory a bit, I'd be able to place him. But right now, my mind's a blank."

  “Have you heard from Bill?"

  Hawkman shook his head. “No, not yet. If I don't hear from him tomorrow, I'll call again.” He strolled over to the sliding glass door. “I better check on Pretty Girl and make sure the cat didn't give her a fright."

  Jennifer laughed. “Right."

  The falcon seemed in no distress while Hawkman filled her water and food dishes. She flapped her wings and scolded him. “I know, I know, you want to go hunting. I promise this weekend I'll take you out if all goes well. Just don't let the little lioness looking out the window scare you. She's harmless.” The hawk tilted her head as if to say, are you kidding. That little twerp would hardly be a mouthful.

  Hawkman snickered as he made his way back into the house. “I don't think Pretty Girl is very disturbed about the little tiger.” He closed the drapes on both the windows, then headed back to his office. “I'm going to do a little work before dinner."

  * * * *

  Jennifer watched as he ambled down the hallway. She knew in her heart, he feared for their safety, otherwise, he wouldn't have come home so early. The kitten strolled over and gave a pleading look. She picked her up, and placed the animal in her lap. The cat began batting at Jennifer's hands as she typed on the keyboard.

  “Now, look, you little mess, you're causing me to make mistakes. I certainly can't concentrate with you fiddling around.” She held up the ball of fur, and looked into her face. “You're so curious and have such pretty blue eyes. I've got to think of a name for you soon.” She placed the kitten on the extra chair she always kept by the computer. “Why don't you take a nap and be a good kitty while I do a little work."

  The cat soon jumped to the floor and tread regally toward her master's office. Jennifer grinned to herself, knowing the feline would eventually wind Hawkman around her little paw. He'd pro
ved to be a real softy when it came to animals, regardless of how gruff he sounded on the outside.

  She could hardly stand the suspense of what might happen, so she quietly rose and tiptoed down the hallway. The door stood partially open and Jennifer heard Hawkman talking.

  “Now you little scalawag, what the heck do you want? You're about the nosiest little critter I've ever seen. What are you after anyway? If you're not careful, you're going to get stuck."

  Jennifer assumed he'd risen when she heard the squeak from the chair he'd never got around to oiling.

  “Oh my, wait until we show your mistress what you discovered.” He opened the door and almost jumped out of his skin. “Good grief, woman, you do know how to startle a man."

  “When the kitten headed for your room, I just had to spy and see what she'd do."

  “She's turning out to be quite a little detective.” He held up the gold bracelet Jennifer had lost a couple of weeks ago.

  Her eyes lit up as she took it from his hand. “Where'd she find it?"

  “She obviously spotted the shiny object in the crack between the gun vault and the printer cabinet. She kept reaching back there and finally brought it forward."

  Jennifer clasped the jewelry around her wrist, reached down and gave the kitten a pat. “Thank you, my little investigator, I thought I'd lost it forever."

  The cat looked up and gave a soft mew, contentment written all over her face.

  At that moment, the whole house shook from a loud bang and the sound of broken glass echoed through the air. When the lights flickered and went out, Hawkman grabbed Jennifer's shoulders, then pushed her deeper into the room. “Stay in here."

  * * *

  CHAPTER SIX

  Hawkman quickly drew his gun from the shoulder holster. Using the furniture as cover, he crept toward the living room. Jennifer unzipped her fanny pack, gripped her Beretta, and crouched behind the large oak desk.

  He could see the drapes blowing in the breeze from the broken window, but saw no one inside. Leaning against the wall, his weapon poised, he continued around the corner and edged toward the front entry. The power failure had disabled the alarm system, so he opened the door and slipped outside.

  Hunkering close to the house, he made his way around to the side where he spotted the silhouette of a person climbing the steps, going up to the deck near the dining room window. He pointed his pistol and called, “Who goes there?"

  The figure turned and raised his hands. “Hawkman, it's me, George, from next door. Wife and I heard a loud bang and all the lights went out. Looks like the transformer in front of your house has exploded. I knocked on the front door, but got no response, so decided to come around back to see if I could get your attention."

  Hawkman glanced at the pole and could see the smoke curling out of the big box. His gaze traveled down the road and he caught sight of a strange car parked off to the side near the bridge. Suddenly, the headlights came on, and the vehicle took off across the river. It looked like a Buick. He holstered his gun and moved toward his neighbor. “You see anyone fooling around the area?"

  George shrugged. “No. We've been watching television most of the evening. You think someone shot out the transformer?"

  “Very possible."

  “I'll give Pacific Power a call and see when we can get a repair crew out here,” George said, walking toward his home.

  “Thanks."

  After his neighbor left, Hawkman went back inside the house. “Jennifer, you okay?"

  “Yes.” She came from his office carrying a couple of flashlights and handed him the extra. “I heard you talking to George."

  “Yeah, looks like the transformer out front blew and knocked out power all the way down the street. We're probably going to need candles or a lantern for several hours."

  She flipped on her light and ran the beam across the dining room carpet. “The transformer didn't throw this,” she said, pointing at a large shiny rock resting in the middle of a pile of broken glass. “Looks like it came from the edge of the lake as it's still glistening with water."

  “Don't touch it. If we're lucky there might be some prints. He quickly picked up the straying kitten and handed her to Jennifer. “You better take care of this little one so she doesn't get her paws cut on any sharp slivers."

  “I wondered where this little stinker went,” she said, cuddling the cat close to her chest. Then she glanced at Hawkman with a solemn expression. “Who would throw a rock through our window?"

  He frowned and tapped the flashlight against his thigh. “I don't know. But I spotted a car taking off across the bridge and it looked like a Buick."

  When the phone rang. Hawkman stared at it as the machine answered.

  “Hiding in the dark? This time I only sent a boulder through the window. Hope it didn't shred your cat."

  After a siege of wicked laughter, the party hung up.

  Hawkman's jaw tightened. “The man's sick. I think we're dealing with a psycho, which makes him even more dangerous. He's calling us from a cell phone and they're hard to track, unless I can get the FBI in on this. But they probably wouldn't touch it until the man commits murder."

  The clear sky and full moon gave a glow to the room, so they were able to move around without much difficulty. Jennifer opened the drapes in the living room, flipped off the flashlight, then made her way to the couch. She cuddled the cat in her arms and sighed. “What are we going to do?"

  He stood in front of her with his fists on his hips. “I'd like you to get out of here. Why don't you take the furry critter, and the two of you go down to visit Sam in Sunnyvale."

  She shook her head. “You know better than to suggest my leaving. I couldn't stand it. And anyway, his apartment isn't big enough for me to go stay for any length of time. He only has one bedroom and would insist I use it. It wouldn't be fair to force him out of his own bed while he's working. He needs his rest. And there's no way anyone could sleep on his horrible couch. No, I'm not going anywhere, so get that notion out of your head."

  Hawkman turned away and slapped his hands against his sides. “I wish you weren't so stubborn. This man's a nut case. And he knows where we live. He could approach you during the day when I'm not here, and do you harm."

  “I guarantee I'll leave my mark on him before he has a chance to do anything to me.

  Hawkman glanced toward the kitchen window. “Sounds like the Pacific Power truck's here. I think they've set a record.” He went to the front door and peered out. “I'm going to talk to them."

  “Okay.” Jennifer took the cat into the bathroom and placed her in the straw bed, then tossed the stuffed bunny in beside her. The kitten immediately bounced on it. “Sorry girl, I can't let you out to run around until I get the glass cleaned up. Don't want you to hurt yourself.” She closed the door and went into the kitchen where she could watch the crew from the window. Their powerful floodlights lit up the area like day time. Hawkman stood talking to one of the men and pointed to the transformer as they lowered it to the ground. Once they released it from the cable, he and the worker examined the outer shell.

  After a few minutes Hawkman came inside. “Should have power within the hour."

  “Good. Then I'll be able to pick up the mess. I've gathered up some of the bigger pieces, but it's going to be a bear getting the slivers out of the carpet. We'll have to wear shoes around this area until I'm sure it's clear.” She frowned. “I don't know what I'll do about the kitten."

  “I'll help you clean it up. I think the drapes stopped most of the glass from flying all over the place."

  “Why were you examining the busted transformer?"

  “I wanted to see if it had a bullet hole."

  “Did it?"

  “Yes."

  Her shoulders drooped. “Well, there's not much Pacific Power can do, if they don't have an inkling who did the shooting."

  “Nope, but if they ever find out, it would be a hefty fine and possible jail time. Unfortunately, we couldn't hear any gun dis
charge due to the explosion, so I couldn't be sure why the transformer went until I examined the shielding."

  “So you think this man planned all these distractions, right down to the stupid phone call?"

  “Sure looks like it."

  “He's definitely got a warped mind."

  Once the power came on, Hawkman helped Jennifer clean up the glass. Then he nailed a piece of plywood across the window until they could get it replaced.

  The next morning, Jennifer typed on her computer, while the kitten sat on the desk, her tail twitching as if waiting for the right moment to pounce.

  Hawkman grinned as he watched. “How can you get anything done with the little imp at your elbow, just waiting to attack your fingers?"

  “I'm getting used to her antics. She's even given me some ideas for my books."

  He chuckled. “I can imagine. What are you going to name her?"

  She glanced at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I haven't decided yet, but have a few ideas. I might have her named by the time you get home this evening. You are going to the office today, aren't you?"

  “Not sure. I hate to leave you alone with that maniac on the loose."

  She stood with her hands on her hips. “I'm not going anywhere today. My deadlines are approaching and I've got to get this book finished. I'll lock up the house, turn on the alarm system and stay glued to this computer for the next eight hours. So, please, go."

  “Promise you'll call if anything suspicious happens."

  “Don't worry. I will."

  Before leaving the lake, Hawkman circled the area to make sure the Buick wasn't nearby. Driving up Quail Lane, he came to an immediate halt in front of Ken and Peggy Bronson's house. “Why didn't I think of them earlier,” he said aloud. He glanced around and noticed neither of their Sheriff's vehicles were on the property. “They must be on duty,” he mumbled. “I'll talk to them this evening.” He hit the accelerator, made a U-turn, and headed toward the bridge.

  When he reached his office, he noticed the blinking red light on his answering machine and punched the play button before sitting down.