A Kettle of Hawks
The Birdwatcher Series, Volume 3
European P. Douglas
Published by European P. Douglas, 2020.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
A KETTLE OF HAWKS
First edition. November 18, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 European P. Douglas.
Written by European P. Douglas.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 1
The river was swelled from the recent unusually heavy rain, the banks sodden and the water level closer to the underside of the footbridge than Tyler Ford had ever seen it before. Wooden debris and garbage, plastic bags, beer bottles and the odd item of small clothing washed past at great speed, all of it coming from the more open picnic friendly sections of the riverbank much farther to the west.
Tyler had been writing that morning, working on his book about serial killers and making sure he had his notes about the recent cases he had been involved in with Sarah Brightwater of the FBI. He took some pleasure in the fact that in both the ‘John the Baptist’ and ‘The Agrarian’ cases, all the other news outlets had taken to using the names he’d given them.
Things had gotten very messy during ‘The Agrarian’ case and Tyler was thankful his own involvement was largely unknown save his being the one who unmasked Agent Malick, Sarah’s partner as the killer. This had hit Sarah hard, as could only be expected and she hadn’t been in contact much for the last few weeks. She thanked him for his part in leading to the truth and for saving her life, but she wasn’t herself and probably wouldn’t be for a long time.
Tyler looked into the water one last time before setting off for home. A large detritus of rags and flotsam came past and for a second he thought it was a body floating the water. It was no such thing and it floated past and away towards the far away sea. Seeing dead bodies everywhere was a hazard of the work he was in.
This morning when he woke, there was a calendar reminder that he was going to be a witness at the carrying out of Stewart 'The Spider’ Spekler’s death sentence later in the month. He would have book flights and make accommodation arrangements in the next couple of days. He’d agreed to be a witness when Spekler asked after three insightful interviews some long months back, actually it was over a year by now. It was a strange thing to see pop up in your calendar and he was regretting a little that he’d agreed to do it.
Back at home, Tyler made a quick loop of the house, making sure there were no signs anyone had been around while he was out walking in the woods on the far side of the river. He checked his land a lot now, a lot more than ever. Having Carson Lemond taken from his home had been a big blow to his peace of mind about how secure his home was. He lived in the middle of nowhere so he wouldn’t be bothered by people, but Spalding had come right here and taken Carson away. The worst thing was Tyler was sure this had not been the only time Spalding had been on his land. The idea of getting guard dogs breezed through his mind again but there would be no point. Anyone Tyler would need to be afraid of wasn’t going to have any trouble getting past a few dogs and there was no need for dead animals to add to the mix.
Satisfied, he entered the house and went straight to his desk, touching the mouse to bring the idling monitor back to life. Without sitting, he poured over the bullet points and nodded. Everything he could recall was in there now. All material for the book. Tyler glanced at the reams of paper of other research that was taking up a chair to the side of the desk. He still had a lot of sifting through to do on that.
Tyler took up a page and read it as he walked to the kitchen area to pour some coffee. He was immersed in the page- an article about the ‘Boston Strangler’ and he barely glanced over the paper as he took a cup from the press and then filled it from the pot. But then something caught his eye. He didn’t even know what it was but it stopped him from reading and he knew at once something was wrong. He turned and looked back to the counter and saw what was so troubling. There a few inches from his own placed down cup was another, it had only the dregs of coffee left. Tyler touched the side of the cup and it was cold.
He hadn’t had coffee yet today.
Dipping a finger in the liquid, Tyler made sure it was cold. There was no doubt in his mind that the cup had been wiped down and wouldn’t show any trace of another person forensically but he also knew it had not been there when he went out earlier. Spalding had been in the house since he left. Was it possible he was still here now?
Sliding a long kitchen knife from the block on the island, Tyler stood still a moment and listened. The house was silent, the only sound on the air at all the singing of Grackles out in the woods. Then, just as he was about to move on, a new sound came. It was only a light tap but he’d heard it. Tyler froze, his ears cocked and his mind willing them to hear so much as a sigh of breath somewhere in his home. Another tap came and then another and Tyler’s tensed body eased. It was starting to rain again and the tapping had been the first heavy drops on the ceiling window along the upstairs landing.
As if on cue the heavens opened then and there was a thunderous din as sheet after sheet of rain fell, driving against the house. It was so loud two people trying to have a conversation would have had to be almost shouting to be heard. It was perfect weather for someone trying to hide out in a house. Perfect also for those trying to find them. Tyler set off and started his search amidst the thudding downpour.
The whole of the downstairs was almost open plan and there was nowhere to hide, so he made for the carpeted stairs and tip-toed up despite the noise. Both his bedroom door and that to the bathroom were open but the closet and the spare bedroom were closed.
Creeping along, he peered through the door into the bathroom. The glass wall of the shower had cleared of the steam from his shower earlier. Nowhere else to hide in there, especially with the wide mirror on the opposing wall. He moved on to the closet door and pressed his ear lightly against it, making sure that no shadow fell on the floor by the crack underneath to give him away to anyone who might be inside. There was no noise and Tyler had no sense of anyone in there. He placed one hand on the doorknob while raising the knife into the air and then pulled it open and jumped back a couple of feet at the same time.
The closet was the same as it always was. Tidy an
d mostly bare. The boiler was sitting to the back of it and Tyler knew there was no chance of even a skinny little woman hiding back there. Next was the spare bedroom and he went through a similar thing there. Again he found no evidence of anyone.
Lastly he came to his bedroom and as he looked in a powerful sense of intrusion came over him. Spalding had been in there, he could feel it! Tyler looked around the room as much as he could from outside and then pushed the door open some to see more. His bed came into view then and he saw the large depression in it. A body much heavier and larger than his own had laid there not too long ago. Tyler stepped into the room, knowing in his heart that Spalding was gone now. He walked to the bed and looked at it and then sat down.
There was no odor, either of Spalding’s body or of any cologne or deodorant he might have been wearing.
Why had he come here today? What message was meant to be conveyed by this? Tyler had mixed feelings about it. In one sense he was outraged at the intrusion; they both already knew Spalding could enter his house and be around without detection, why go on doing it? The second feeling however was one of hope. Was this the start of the next phase of the game Spalding was playing with them? Would he soon have something to tell Sarah about? To get things back in motion? He found a warm part inside of him hoping that this latter was the correct answer.
Chapter 2
The asphalted street outside the house where the remainder of the Stanver family lived was jet black and slick looking with the rain. The lawn was well kept and flower beds ran along the street sides and the driveway. It was a nice looking house and the kind any happy American family might live in. As Sarah knew, though, the Stanver’s were not one of America’s happy families, not since the menacing figure of Dwight Spalding had entered their lives.
It had been over a month since Megan Stanver’s harrowing escape from a very long and scary captivity. She had been interviewed by many members of the Police Force and of the FBI but as Sarah had not been a part of the case she hadn’t been able to take part in any of those and there was no easy way to get to see the transcripts at work without drawing attention to herself. Something she couldn't do without pushing herself further away from ever being on the Spalding Case.
Sarah knocked on the door and waited for an answer. As she stood there she saw the house had a very good view of the entire cul-de-sac they lived on. Probably part of the reason they’d chosen this house.
“Who is it?” a nervy voice came from behind the still closed door. Sarah turned to face it, lifting her badge as she did.
“My name is Agent Brightwater from the FBI. I was hoping to talk to Megan Stanver, is she home?”
“Haven’t you people talked to her enough already! Why don’t you just let us get on with our lives?” Sarah was sure this was Megan’s mother, Melissa, speaking and she couldn't blame her for this attitude after what they’d been through.
“I’m very sorry, Mrs Stanver, but it is important.”
“She’s already told you everything she knows, what more do you want?” Mrs Stanver’s voice a loud screech now and it probably hurt her throat to achieve this pitch.
Sarah was about to say something else when suddenly a new voice came from within.
“It’s okay, mom. I’ll talk to her, you never know how little a thing can make all the difference. She might want to check up on something with me that’s key to catching him for all we know.”
Having checked Sarah’s ID again and opening the locks on the door Sarah was allowed inside. There was no sign of Mrs Stanver now, gone off to be angry somewhere else no doubt.
“Do you have any news?” Megan asked and Sarah felt a pang of regret for not having taken the initiative right off and said she wasn’t here in relation to Megan’s case per se.
“Not yet,” she answered. “Listen Megan, I’m going to level with you and if you don’t want to talk to me I’ll leave right away.” Megan looked suddenly worried.
“What are you saying?” she asked.
“I am an FBI agent, but I am not on the Spalding case. They won’t let me work it because Dwight Spalding killed my mother many years ago.”
“Oh,” Megan said, her fear dropping but her confusion staying put.
“I’ve been trying to piece together Spalding’s movements and crimes outside of the official investigation, it’s the only way I can do it. As such, I am not here as a representative of the FBI today but as myself, plain old Sarah Brightwater.” She tried to smile at the end but was sure it came off ugly and fake. Megan looked down at her own hands for a moment, clasping them together and then she met eyes with Sarah again.
“He killed your mother?” she clarified and Sarah nodded. “Okay, let’s hear what you have to say.”
They sat in the living room to the back of the house, a large patio door, locked, showed a view of a brightly flowered garden and luscious green lawn. It was a nice place to live. ‘A million miles from that farmhouse basement where Spalding had kept her locked up’ Sarah thought.
“So,” Megan said, “What is it you want to know?”
“What does he look like now?” Sarah asked. She had often tried to get the old mugshot of him from almost twenty years ago out of her head and put something more contemporary there in its place.
“He's tall, very tall. He has a beard but I don’t know if it’s real or not, it is a short goatee with a point to it. He's bald but wears wigs sometimes that look so real you’d never know it was fake; that’s why I don’t know about the beard. It looks real is all I can say.”
“What did he talk to you about?”
“Never much,” Megan answered; it was clearly hard for her to remember any time she had spent with him. “He told me his plans were working out well, but never told me what they were. He talked about the ‘work’ my father did for him...;” at the mention of her father Megan broke down and started to cry. Sarah didn’t envy her father’s fate; he’d been forced to kill a woman to keep Megan from being killed. Sarah reached over and put a supporting hand on Megan’s back, there was nothing else she could do.
“Do you have any idea of how many people he’s holding hostage?” Sarah asked soon after, thinking this was a way to get her to stop thinking about her father.
“No,” Megan shook her head slowly. “I felt there were other people in the same places I was being held but I moved around so much I was never sure. The only times I knew for sure there were others was in the house I escaped from.” Tears choked Megan again and Sarah pursed her lips. “I can’t believe he killed them all.” Sarah thought this was a strange thing to say considering who Spalding was, but it was clear it had been a blow to Megan and in truth it could have been her had she still been there.
“He’s a very evil man and this is why we have to bring him down,” Sarah said. Megan’s face changed a moment and then she wiped the tears from her eyes. “What is it?” Sarah asked, seeing a glimmer of hope in Megan’s changed expression.
“Oh, it’s nothing to get excited about, but when you said how evil he was there it just struck me that even though we all hated him, he was never anything but kind and engaging with me when he did talk to me. It’s funny I didn’t think the word evil even though I knew that's what he is.”
“That’s common with people held captive,” Sarah assured her.
“Stockholm Syndrome?” Megan asked.
“Like it,” Sarah replied. “Has he been in contact, even indirectly, with you since you escaped?” The question came to Sarah as she sat there and was out before she really thought about it.
“God no!” Megan said, her face a pale mask of shock and anger suddenly. This satisfied Sarah and she nodded.
“Sorry,” she said, “I just had to be sure.” Megan didn’t answer, she was looking out to the back yard sullenly. Sarah thought this was a good place to call it quits for now. Her contact had been made and it hadn’t been too taxing on Megan. Sarah stood up, “Thanks for talking to me today, Megan, I know it’s not easy on you.” Megan stood t
oo,
“No, it’s fine, the more I talk the better it seems to feel,” she replied, her mind perhaps a little preoccupied somewhere else. Sarah took out her card and handed it to Megan who took it looking down at it a moment.
“Feel free to call me if you ever want to talk, even if you don’t have any more information. We’re all in this thing against him together.” Megan smiled wanly and nodded. Sarah pressed a little more “Would it be okay with you if I called you from time to time about my own personal case?” At this Megan looked her in the eye and then said,
“Yes, of course, I‘m sorry about your mother.”
“Thanks.” Sarah paused at the front door on the way out. “Can you please not mention this to anyone else, that I came to see you I mean? Like I said, I’m not supposed to be on the case and I could get in trouble if my boss found out.”
“Sure,” Megan said, a more genuine smile on her face now, “Your secret is safe with me.”
Chapter 3
Things seemed unusually quiet everywhere. Tyler wondered if it was down to the torrential rain of the last week, but there was nothing meaty for him to get his journalistic teeth into right now. A few longer term projects simmered away but nothing was boiling anywhere. He was sitting at his desk at ‘The Baltimore Echo’ and Calvin Briggs, the Editor of the paper, was in. The receptionist, June, was at the desk by the doors to the stairs and elevator.
Briggs was restless and Tyler had seen a recent change in the man. He’d started out practically licking everyone’s ass even though he was the boss- every idea was a good one, every story was worth running- but lately this veneer had started to fade and they started to see the real man beneath. The one who knew he was the boss and wanted everyone else to know it too. Tyler hadn’t had a run in with him yet but it was only a matter of time.
Truth be told, Tyler wasn’t too bothered by the quietness right now; his head had been off a little of late and he wasn’t as sharp as his usual keen edge. He wondered if he was coming down with a cold or something, at least that’s what he hoped it was. Other options were too grim to contemplate.
A Kettle of Hawks (The Birdwatcher Series Book 3) Page 1
