Hawkman padded into the kitchen in his bare feet and underwear; went straight to the phone and punched the play button. After he heard the man's voice, he mumbled. “Who is this guy?” Scowling, he punched in the detective's number, then put it on speaker.
“Williams, Hawkman."
“How are you feeling?"
“Sore and have a headache. We received another threatening phone call from our mystery man."
“Interesting, I found out his name."
Hawkman stiffened. “What is it?"
“J. Hargrove. The car rental had the information, along with the motel where he'd been staying. When I talked with the management at the inn, they informed me he'd checked out. So I hurried to the airport. Another futile trip, along with checking the bus depot and taxi drivers. It's like he disappeared into thin air. I also checked the other car rentals in the area. Nothing."
“He's obviously still around; listen to this.” He hit the play button.
“When did that come in?” Williams asked.
“Late last night, after we got home from the hospital."
“It appears our guy wants to play games."
“He can't get far without wheels. Have you checked the used car lots?"
“In the process right now. Leaving a picture at each one. I'll let you know if anything turns up. Also, Ms. Rawlings filed a hit and run report this morning after they dismissed her from the hospital, so we've got our eyes peeled."
“You've got a picture?"
“Yeah, off the license. Want me to fax it to you?"
“Please."
After Hawkman hung up, he prepared to receive the fax and within minutes it came through. He lifted the paper from the tray, studied the photo, and shook his head. “I've never seen this guy."
Jennifer looked over his shoulder. “Isn't that one of the names Bill gave you?"
“Yes, but I've never met this man. I'd remember those eyes, if nothing else."
“If he worked for the Agency, how come you don't recognize him?"
“It's a big place."
Hawkman heard a noise and glanced toward the kitchen window. “Looks like the guys are here to install the glass in the broken window. Get the bell while I run in and throw on some clothes."
Jennifer tightened the belt around her robe and ran her fingers through her hair. She deactivated the alarm and opened the door. Her knees felt weak when she looked at one of the men. “Are you guys here to replace the broken window?"
“Yes, ma'am."
“Just a moment, please. I'll get Mr. Casey.” She closed the door, threw the dead bolt and dashed to the bedroom. “One of those men looks like the guy in the picture."
“Are they from the glass place?"
“That's what they said. I told them to wait outside and I'd get you."
He snatched his gun from the holster and slid it into the waistband of his jeans, covering it with his tee shirt. “I'll go take a look."
Jennifer trailed him to the kitchen. He moved to the window, and glanced out. “The logo on the truck matches the company I called."
“The shorter man is the one who looks like the photo,” Jennifer said, pointing.
The two men had meandered out to the center of the driveway and Hawkman took a moment to study them.
“His body build doesn't match Clyde and Ms. Rawlings’ description of Hargrove. That guy's not as tall. And the pot belly hanging over his belt, doesn't match what I'd call buff.” Hawkman removed his gun and handed it to Jennifer. “I don't think I'll need this. Would you put it back?"
“Sure.” Jennifer retreated to the bedroom to get dressed. She slipped the gun into Hawkman's shoulder holster and put her hands on her hips as she observed Miss Marple curled up on his pillow. “You little squirt. I think you're more fond of the mister of this household.” She ran her hand down the silky fur. “Hey, I'm the one who feeds and plays with you."
The cat gently batted Jennifer's hand, then turned and rubbed her head along Hawkman's pillow.
“Come on, time to get off the bed.” Jennifer picked up the kitten, placing her on the floor while she smoothed out the covers and tucked in the spread.
She showered, dressed, and came into the room where the men were installing the new pane. Hawkman had brewed some coffee and sat at the kitchen bar reading the paper while sipping the hot liquid.
“Looks like they're almost done,” she said, pouring herself a cup.
“Doesn't take long once they've removed all the old glass. I'd given them the measurements, so they had the piece cut. Just a matter of setting it into place."
The men soon finished the job and Hawkman handed them a check. “Thanks, fellows, nice work."
Hawkman turned to Jennifer after they left. “I talked with them awhile, and both have been with the company for over five years. So, he definitely wasn't Hargrove."
“Thank goodness. My heart almost stopped when I saw him. He really resembled the picture."
“Yeah, but his eyes weren't green, they were more hazel and not near as piercing as Hargrove's."
When the phone rang, he stood back and listened to the beginning of the message.
“This is Detective Williams. If you're there, give me a buzz."
Hawkman punched on the speaker phone. “Yeah, I'm here."
“I had the feeling you might be monitoring your calls, so thought I'd better identify myself."
“Glad you did. What's up?"
“Got the lab results on your hat. The techs found some rust embedded in the leather and came to the conclusion you were hit with a metal pipe of sorts. They figured a tire iron from the looks of the crease it left in the leather."
Hawkman reached up and touched the bandage on his head. “Good Lord, no wonder I have such a horrible headache. Did they find the weapon?"
“No, sorry. Not a sign of it on the property, or in the garbage bin."
“Should have the rental place guy check the inside of the car."
“My lab men are going over there today. They'll search it from stem to stern. Do you want your hat back?"
“Is it wrecked?"
“I doubt you'll wear it again. Got a big hole in the back. It's sitting here on my desk; be glad to save it for you."
“Might as well keep it for evidence. I've got plenty. Just breaking them in is the hard part."
“Didn't come up with anything on the used car lots either. No one recognized the guy."
Hawkman scratched his chin as Jennifer looked on. “The man will need some sort of transportation. Have you had any reports of stolen vehicles?"
“I'm checking it out."
“We're not dealing with someone who has scruples. At this point, he's apt to steal a vehicle from a little old lady at the grocery store."
“I believe it. I'll get back to you if anything worthwhile shows up."
* * *
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hawkman scooted off the kitchen bar stool and crossed over to his favorite resting place in the living room. “What do we have here,” he chuckled, as he reached down and picked up Miss Marple off the cushion. “I thought you were Jennifer's pet.” He gently placed the cat in his wife's identical chair.
She immediately jumped to the floor and stood at his feet, staring up with pleading blue eyes.
“Honey, you need to give this cat more attention. She's begging."
Jennifer glanced up from her computer and smiled. “She's definitely taken an interest in you. Wonder if somehow she knows you're hurt."
“I think animals sense something different. Whether she knows what, is hard to say. But she didn't move from my side all night. I didn't dare shift positions in case I'd roll over and hurt her."
Resting her chin on the palm of her hand, Jennifer's expression turned to concern. “I'm surprised you weren't hurt worse after hearing Williams talk about the weapon being a pipe of sorts. That sends shivers down my spine."
Hawkman shrugged. “Guess it pays to wear a good hat."
“It's obviously re
ady for the trash can. You're going to have to shape another."
He nodded. “I'll do that later. What really bothers me is they've found no sign of Hargrove.” He threw up his hands. “It's like he's ‘evaporated'. But we know he hasn't."
“Maybe he changed his appearance and flew out of here. If he spent some time in the Agency, he's probably got several identities."
“True. But we received the call after we arrived home from the hospital, so he's still around. And it wouldn't surprise me if he stole a vehicle off of someone's driveway."
“It could take a week for a report to come in."
He raised his brows. “Why?"
“Spring break. Kids are out of school, and people take off. If they had an extra car in their garage, or out in front of their house, they won't know it's gone until they return."
He started to hit his forehead with the palm of his hand, but gave it a second thought. “You're right. I'd completely forgotten. Without Sam here, I lose track of the vacations.” He grimaced. “Sure could put a delay in knowing what kind of vehicle to look for."
Jennifer arose from her computer, strolled into the living room and sat down in her chair. “Unless someone spots him."
“I doubt he'll hang around Medford. He knows he's a wanted man."
“Any idea of where he might go?"
He shook his head and immediately put his fingers on his temples. “Still smarts to move."
“You should be in bed."
“Oh, sure. You've got a lot of nerve to talk. Remember when I tried to get you to go lie down during your chemo treatments?"
She laughed. “Yes. But it still doesn't keep me from trying to entice you to rest."
“The only way I'll go, is if you go with me."
“Right. A row in bed is the last thing you need."
His eyes twinkled. “Try me."
“Hawkman, you're awful."
About that time, the cat leaped upon his lap with the stuffed bunny in her mouth.
“How does she manage to sneak around without us even seeing her?"
“She's a little pussy foot sleuth."
He took the toy and ran it down the arm of the chair. Miss Marple stood up on his thigh and batted it with her front paws, then immediately fell into the crack between his legs. He laughed and tossed the bunny to the floor. She jumped down and leaped on the soft toy. Shoving it around for several minutes, she ended up pushing it behind the couch leg. She played peek-a-boo with the toy until she finally tired, and flopped down beside the sofa.
Hawkman chuckled. “We just enjoyed a show far better than what's on television."
“She's a case, isn't she?"
“So you think you'll keep her?"
Jennifer swung her head around and glared at him. “Of course. Whatever gave you the idea I didn't want the kitten?"
“I figured maybe you'd give her to me, since she likes me better."
She grabbed one of the pillows off the couch. “If you weren't hurt, I'd throw this at you. I'd say you're one spoiled husband."
He hooked a thumb toward his chest. “Who, me? By the way, when are we going to eat?"
Jennifer sighed and rolled her eyes. “See. You're rotten."
After they ate, Hawkman retired back to his chair. “Man, I hate feeling like this."
She glanced up from loading the dishwasher. “Are you hurting?"
“Have a dull headache, and my body's sore."
“Just rest awhile, you'll feel better soon. If you're bored, why don't you shape one of your hats? You have a closet full of new ones. You need something on your head, especially since you've got a cute bald spot.” She turned her back to him so he couldn't see her grin.
“You had to bring up my bare scalp. I'd just about forgotten it was there."
She put a hand over her mouth. “Sorry."
“But you're right,” he said, hoisting himself up and strolling into the bedroom.
Jennifer could hear him rummaging through boxes. Miss Marple sat on the floor with both ears pointed toward the hallway. Jennifer wondered how the animal knew this wasn't a good time to bother her master.
Soon, Hawkman returned to the living room with the Stetson El Patron in his hand. “I think it's time I broke in this baby."
She smiled. “I wondered when you'd get around to it."
He slipped the hat onto his head, then quickly removed it. “Ouch! Don't think I'll be able to wear it for another day or so."
After he sat down in the chair, she walked behind him. “Let me take a look at the wound."
“You can't see anything, there's a bandage covering the stitches."
“I can see through it."
“Sure you can,” he scoffed.
She pulled the tape up on one side and Hawkman winced. “Be still. Hmm."
“What does that mean?"
Patting him on the shoulder, she stuck the adhesive back in the same spot and moved away. “Nothing. I'm teasing. It appears to be healing just fine. It's still a bit swollen and bruised."
“I could've told you that."
Jennifer headed for her computer. “I've got some work to do."
Hawkman placed the hat on the coffee table, then snapped his fingers. “I should call Ken and Peggy. I want to inform them of the situation.” He glanced at Jennifer. “How about, if they're available, having them over for cocktails tomorrow evening?"
“I'd love it. They're a fun couple to be around."
He punched in the Bronsons’ number. “Hey, Ken, how's it going?” Hawkman laughed. “No sleep for the wicked, huh? Well, it doesn't surprise me since you two are the only Deputy Sheriffs for miles around. If you and Peggy are free tomorrow night, why don't you drop by for cocktails? Also, got a little business I need to discuss.” He listened for a few seconds, then gave Jennifer the ‘okay’ sign. “Great. See you then."
After hanging up, he picked up his binoculars. “Think I'll go out on the deck."
Miss Marple followed him to the sliding glass door.
Jennifer hopped up and caught her before she could get outside. “Nope. You're an indoor cat,” she said. “I don't want you to get fleas, and besides, we haven't completed all your shots."
Hawkman checked Pretty Girl's food and water, gave her some encouraging words, then paced back and forth in thought. Soon, he ventured down to the gangplank leading to the dock, then looked through the glasses and inspected the area. The lake looked peaceful, but the slight nip in the wind would definitely make it uncomfortable to try and fish off the dock. He strolled back to the deck and sat down on the chair beside the small butcher block. Laying down the binoculars, he happened to notice the cover on the outside electrical outlet stood open. He reached over and snapped it shut.
He settled back and wondered how someone could have snuck up behind him as he came down his office stairs. There were no cars around and nothing looked disturbed at his place nor at the bakery. The perpetrator had obviously hidden behind the stairwell for the right moment. He had a feeling Hargrove planned on doing more damage than just knocking him out. But why?
He felt for a toothpick in his pocket, then remembered he had on a tee shirt. Standing, he picked up the binoculars and went into the house. Going to the kitchen cabinet, he grabbed several of the small sticks from the box, put one in his mouth, carried the rest to the small table next to the picture window and placed them on a napkin. He flopped down in the chair, but immediately put his fingers to his temples and groaned.
Jennifer looked up with raised brows. “You sat down too fast."
“Man, did I. Felt like the top of my head exploded."
“Honey, you're so restless. Go ahead and watch some television; it won't bother me."
Jennifer focused on her writing as Hawkman turned on the news. When she heard a faint snoring, she saw his head droop to one side. Then she noticed Miss Marple sitting in the middle of the carpet, staring toward their bedroom. Her ears were perked and her tail twitched. Strange, why is she staring in that direc
tion? Suddenly, Jennifer felt a cold draft hit her legs. Her hand went to her fanny pack and wrapped around the pistol. Standing, she brought the Beretta to firing position and moved slowly down the hallway.
* * *
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jennifer hesitated a moment. The cool air rushed in from either the master bedroom or Hawkman's office. Those two rooms had sliding glass entries you could come in from the outside, and as far as she remembered, both were closed. The inside office door was shut; the bedroom was open. She sidled against the left wall and listened for any sound. Hearing nothing, she took a deep breath, stepped into the open with her gun aimed straight ahead. The vertical drapes bellowed in the wind. Her gaze darted around the walls. She took a deep breath, dropped to her knees, quickly scanned under the bed, then checked the closets and bathroom more closely. Once assured no one had hidden inside, she hastened across to the opened glass slider, closed and locked it.
Miss Marple had followed at her heels and jumped upon the bed. Jennifer flashed a glance at the cat, who seemed relaxed as she sprawled on the spread. About that time, Hawkman walked in and stared at the gun in her hand.
“What's going on?"
“I'm not sure. Did you forget to lock the slider?"
He scowled, and glared at the window. “No. Why?"
When she told him what had happened, he immediately took the Glock 30 pistol from the bedside table. “Stay inside,” he said, as he slipped out onto the deck.
She sat down on the bed, the Beretta in one hand and rubbed Miss Marple's back with her other. “You're a good little watchdog, kitty."
Soon Hawkman came into sight. He stood outside the glass for a moment and examined the door. “Someone's jimmied this lock."
“Did you see anyone suspicious?"
“No. Not even a car.” He stepped back into the house, went straight to his closet and removed two poles. One, a small metal rod, which he slipped into the hole at the top of the sliding door frame, leaving a hanging string attached at the end for easy removal. Then he took the old broom handle which he'd cut sometime ago to fit into the rail behind the gliding part of the window and dropped it into the space. “Those should prevent anyone from opening it again. Even if they try, it will definitely make a noise."
In for the Kill [Hawkman Series Book 9] Page 7
