A Kettle of Hawks (The Birdwatcher Series Book 3)

by European P. Douglas

  “Well?” Briggs was asking when he got off the phone.

  “This Thursday,” Tyler said.

  “Wow,” Briggs enthused. “You get enough and we can run Friday with the story and then do a whole weekend section about his murders and what you find out Thursday!” Tyler could see the dollar signs and circulation numbers whizzing around behind the editor’s eyes.

  “Probably best to have something else ready for backup in case the meeting is a bust though,” Tyler warned.

  “Why do you think it will be a bust?” Briggs asked, a look of concern on his face.

  “I don’t, but we don’t know what he wants or what he’s going to say. Then there’s always the possibility he doesn’t show up.”

  “How could he not show up, where else could he go?” Briggs asked, looking a trite confused at this.

  “I've been to many prison visits over the years where the person changed their mind and I was left sitting at an empty table or in front of a pane of glass with no one on the other side. It just happens sometimes.” Briggs considered this a moment and them shook his head slowly,

  “No,” he said, “He’s reaching out for a reason. He’ll be there and he’ll have something to say that we’re going to want to print.”

  Tyler wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t want to dampen Briggs’ enthusiasm.

  “I’m going home to start working up some interview questions where it’s quiet," Tyler said, standing up and taking his jacket from the back of his chair. Briggs nodded,

  “You do that, Tyler, and make ‘em good ones,” this was said with encouragement and there was even a pat on the back for Tyler as he walked towards the stairs. Tyler smiled and winked again at June as he was passing her desk. Sure, Briggs was happy now, but it would be a different story if Tyler’s instincts were right and Davis wasn’t going to say anything they would be able to use in the paper this weekend.

  Chapter 6

  The wind had died down and now only the pleasant sound of the rain came to her. Sleep would not be far away and another day would be over. She’d always loved the sound of the rain, especially on a dark night when she was warm and tucked up in bed. The bad dreams had been lessening of late, not only in frequency but also intensity. Megan no longer feared sleep as though it were death and she supposed in time she would be able to sleep through the night once again.

  The red digital dial of the clock showed it was ten o’clock. It was two hours before Ellie would arrive at this same time and go to her own bed farther out west. Megan found that she often thought of the differing time zones between Ellie and she whenever she noticed the time or a clock or watch, even if she couldn't see the face.

  Megan turned over and looked to the bedside locker where her cell phone charged each night. This was one of the last checks she did each night, if there was a message from Ellie her phone would flash a blue notification light. Tonight, though, as Megan looked she saw the slowly pulsing icon was green instead of blue. That meant it was a different kind of message and it made her curious. Leaning over she took up the phone and unlocked the screen.

  ‘Are you free to talk?’ was the message from a number not in her contacts list. It could be Ellie on a new number but she didn’t think so; Ellie changed numbers very often but she always told Megan before she did it. This was most likely someone messaging the wrong number so Megan decided to delete and ignore it. Before she had even placed the phone back on the nightstand, however, another message came in. She looked and saw it said,

  ‘Megan? Are you free to talk? It’s been a while.’ Her blood ran cold as suddenly without really knowing why she was terrified. But she did know why, didn’t she?

  The phone suddenly started ringing and it startled Megan so much so that she jumped and then answered in one motion as though stopping the ringing was getting rid of the fear. Before she really knew what she was doing, the phone was at her ear.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Megan!” the effusive voice of Dwight Spalding reverberated down the line. Megan knew at once she should hang up but she was rigid with fear and so did nothing at all. “I hope you have been well? Now, don’t hang up,” he said, “You’re not in danger. I just want you to convey a message for me, that’s all.”

  “W-what message?” Megan stammered in reply, she felt like a tiny little girl and tears were streaming down her cheeks as she sat there.

  “I have some coordinates I’m going to need you to write down,” Spalding said, his voice like a man happily talking to a friend on the phone. “Get some paper and a pen and tell me when you are ready,” he instructed. Megan didn’t answer. She laid the phone down on the bed and did as she was told.

  Each moment she was away from the phone and carrying out his orders she asked herself, ‘Why aren’t you running away? Why aren’t you calling the police?’ but she did none of these things. It was like she was hypnotised and there was nothing she could do but obey his will. And yet Megan knew this wasn’t the case; she could walk out of this room right now if she really wanted, and she did want to and still, moments later the phone was back in her hands and she said,

  “What are the numbers?”

  “You sound well,” Spalding said but Megan didn’t respond to this. He gave her the coordinates and then said, “Now, this is the most important part, I want to arrange to meet Sarah Brightwater of the FBI, and Tyler Ford, a journalist for ‘The Baltimore Echo’ and tell them to go alone to that place. Tell them to be sure only the two of them and at the same time. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes,” Megan replied, hoping he was just going to hang up then, but Spalding wasn’t like that, he never did what you expected him to.

  “I'm not coming for you again, Megan. You got away fair and square and if you carry out this thing for me that will be the end of your part in it for now.”

  “For now?” Megan repealed sourly. Spalding laughed,

  “You were always sharp, Megan, but you can never say never in this world.”

  "You could if you really wanted to," Megan shot back, "You could let everyone free and never hurt anyone again!" To this Spalding only laughed softly, like a parent chuckling good naturedly at a child's innocence.

  "You don't really understand this at all do you? I'm as much a prisoner in this game as anyone else," Spalding replied and Megan didn't know what to make of this.

  “There’s nothing to understand,” Megan shot back, unable to control her ire now. “You’re a sick, evil twisted fuck and someday your past is going to catch up with you!”

  “Ah, such spirit!” Spalding exclaimed, “You’re making it very hard for me to leave you out of things Megan.” These words scared Megan to the quick and she didn't say anything for a time. The idea came suddenly that he could be right outside this house, on the street or in one of the neighbor’s backyards looking at her bedroom window right now. There didn’t seem to be anything he wasn’t capable of.

  “Why won’t you just leave me alone,” Megan whimpered into the phone.

  “Do as I’ve asked, tell no one else about it and that’s your best chance of staying out of things from now on,” Spalding replied in a measured tone.

  Chapter 7

  Tyler was sitting at the glass partition for what seemed like a very long time before the shuffling form of Derek Davis appeared before him. In the intervening time since they’d last met, Davis looked to have aged about twenty years. Prison life obviously didn’t suit him. Tyler didn’t know what he was expecting exactly, but he was surprised by the grin that came over Davis’ face when their eyes met. Tyler took up the phone as Davis sat down and then took his own end of the receiver.

  “You look good Tyler, that new boss must be putting you through your paces!” Davis laughed and then with a sly look added, “Or is there a new woman in your life?” It was astonishing, Davis was acting as though nothing had happened, like they were still just old work colleagues as before. Tyler was on his guard feeling something wasn't right here.

 
“Just me trying to take care of myself,” Tyler replied. “Why did you want to see me now?” he asked; there wasn’t much time in these visits and he didn’t want to waste any of it.

  “Good old Tyler Ford, always getting straight to the story,” Davis smiled wryly at him.

  “You know me,” Tyler said and Davis nodded before sitting silent a moment looking at him.

  “I’ve had a lot of time in here sitting around with nothing better to do than think,” Davis began, “and I haven’t been able to come close to figuring any of it out.”

  “About what?”

  “I can’t find any way that Spalding guy could have known what I was doing, or how he got Danny into the job to spy on us.” Tyler drew an instant memory to his mind of being held at gunpoint in his own car by Danny while the man sitting in front of him right now was on his way to kill Sarah.

  “Spalding’s done a lot of things no one is able to figure out,” Tyler said, “Have you heard much about him in here?”

  “You hear so much about him in here that you can't recall if you were the one who started the particular rumour or not,” Davis smiled. “Hell, in here they think Spalding might possibly be the head of the CIA or Homeland Security. There’s nothing they won’t believe when it comes to him.”

  “What do you believe?” Tyler asked.

  “I believe he’s dangerous, and not just to people like me, but to anybody. I worry that he might still be after you having failed the last time with Danny.” There was a sincere look in Davis’ eyes as he said this and Tyler had to remind himself he was dealing with a sociopathic serial killer here. It was unlikely he had a moment's concern for anyone else at all.

  “I don’t know,” Tyler said, “Do you still want to get at Agent Brightwater?” Davis looked at him in surprise and then sitting back in his seat raised an eyebrow,

  “Oh,” he grinned, “It is a woman after all.” Tyler didn’t reply and after a moment Davis waved a dismissive hand. “No, I don’t have any ill will towards her, that was dumb luck and it could have been any cop or agent who caught me that day. Who I blame for that is Spalding, he’s the one who created the situation in which I was caught. If it wasn’t for him I could have gone on for years.” There was a sick feeling of boast in this that was only the more pronounced when Davis added, “I had one of the best investigative reporters in the USA working with me and you didn't suspect a thing did you?”

  “No, you were squeaky clean as far as I knew,” Tyler grudgingly admitted. It was true, until that last day when he figured it out, Davis had never been in his line of sight as a possible killer. Spalding created a mess that forced Davis to act and that was what gave him away in the end. Tyler had to agree it was due to Spalding alone that ‘John the Baptist’ wasn’t still out on the streets and killing. “Do you think Spalding could get to you in here?”

  “I don’t think that would be difficult for him at all. I’m mixed in with the others a few times a week and it wouldn’t take much prompting for one of them to shiv me.” Tyler could tell this was a constant worry to Davis and this most likely had caused him to age so much. Though he was a cold blooded killer, he wasn’t a physical fighter at all and he’d let himself get doughy around the middle with his finer foods lifestyle. It led Tyler to think of something else and he asked,

  “Do you know why you killed them?” Davis looked dully at him, no emotion in his eyes.

  “I don’t give permission for anything we say here to be printed, Tyler,” he said, “And these talks are recorded.”

  “That’s fine,” Tyler replied, “But I want to know, for myself.”

  “For your book?” Davis asked, but he was grinning again.

  “For survey results only.” This seemed to satisfy Davis and he shrugged,

  “I can’t tell you any one thing that sets me off, but once I killed that first woman I knew I was going to go on doing it for the rest of my life.”

  “What did it feel like before?”

  “Before I killed anyone?” Tyler nodded at the question, “Well, it’s hard to know now, but I remember being angry at lot, it was like something was pent up inside and it was eating me up. If I didn’t let it out I was going to go crazy.” He spoke of this as though what he’d done were nothing, like he’d gone out and broke up a mailbox with a baseball bat or something like that.

  “Did you try to alleviate those feelings before you killed someone?”

  “Of course, I think all killers do, unless you're really screwed up,” Davis answered.

  “What did you do?”

  “I’m not going to go into details but let's just say I didn’t start out killing people,” Davis said. That was normal enough for serial killers, so well-known in fact, that Tyler was thinking of leaving out animal killings from his book altogether. Tyler paused a moment and then said,

  “Can I quote you on anything? My editor is going to jump down my throat as soon as I’m out of here to find out what we’re putting in the paper tomorrow.”

  “That’s his job,” Davis said nodding his approval. “I’ll tell you what you can use. Tell everyone that Spalding is still active, tell them about the secret FBI investigation into him that’s going on right now. You can quote me on that!”

  “How do you know about all this?” Tyler asked, surprised. He hadn't heard anything about the Spalding case apart from Sarah and few deeply entrenched contacts at some of the police forces involved.

  “I told you, he’s like a god in here. They know more than the FBI and the cops combined do.”

  “How?”

  “I have no idea,” Davis shrugged, “I’m only telling what I hear.”

  “Sounds like I should go undercover in jail if I want to get to the real story,” Tyler said.

  “It’s pretty easy to get in here, Tyler, it’s getting out that’s the problem.” Neither of them said anything for a few moments then.

  “You’re going to Spekler’s execution soon?” Davis asked.

  “Yeah, it’s only a few weeks away now,” Tyler wasn’t looking forward to it.

  “I don’t know if I pity him or envy him,” Davis said with a sigh. Prison life certainly didn’t agree with him.

  Chapter 8

  Sarah sat at her desk at the FBI Academy at Quantico looking at the pile of files on the left side of her desk. The pile had been growing since the start of the ‘John the Baptist’ case and she had only barely been able to make small dents in it every now and then. Now felt like one of those moments though her heart wasn’t in it.

  None of them were very interesting and as she perused the first file, Sarah found her mind was scanning for a phrase she knew wouldn’t be there. The Birdwatcher. Glancing up she saw that both Bobrick’s and Daniels' doors were open. She thought about going in to ask one of them about it. She could say she heard it from a source in the media- she didn’t have to say it was Tyler- who had asked her about it.

  The desk across from her was empty. It had been Malick’s and she knew he would have advised her against going into the SAIC or ASAIC about anything. That was before he had been turned by Spalding, or was it? Malick still hadn’t said much, even since his facial wounds healed. There was still no telling when he first made contact with Spalding. Or how involved he had been in anything other than the killings that had been known once as ‘The Agrarian Case’ but was better known now as ‘The FBI Killer’ case. Sarah had not been allowed to see him and those who had interviewed him came away with nothing. Malick seemed content to take full responsibility for his crimes and go to jail for the rest of his life.

  It still hurt Sarah so much that he had betrayed her so badly. She thought they had been friends and all along he was working with the man who had killed her mother. To top this, Malick had planned to kill her too when he was found out.

  The cell phone on the table vibrated, a welcome distraction. Sarah looked at the screen with no hope or expectation this time- that was getting old- and was instantly delighted to see it was a message from Megan S
tanver.

  ‘Can we meet?’ Sarah’s heart raced, the only thing Megan would be calling Sarah about would be something to do with Spalding. Had she recalled something important, some clue or comment he’d made to her?

  ‘I can be there in two hours.’ Sarah answered and then waited for the reply.

  ‘Can we meet away from my house? I know a bar nearby.’

  ‘Of course. When?’ Sarah was anxious and each second was like an hour.

  “Eight Tonight? I’ll send you the bar’s address.’

  “Eight is fine, see you then.’

  Eight o’clock was an eon in arriving but finally Megan walked through the doors of ‘The Villager’ Irish pub. Sarah, who was already seated, waved and Megan came over without looking at anyone else. It looked like she was underage and trying to sneak in and Sarah saw the barman look at her oddly. He was sure to ask for her ID when she tried to get a drink.

  “Hi,” Megan said, sliding into a seat at the table before looking furtively about the room. It was a small bar with tables and long booths running up one side along the wall and the bar running the full length of the opposite side.

  “Hi Megan, are you okay?” Sarah asked.

  “Oh I’m fine,” Megan replied, a sheepish smile on her face. “I'm like this all the time when I’m out of the house now, I guess it’s just going to take me a while to get used to the normal world again.”

  “That’s completely understandable,” Sarah said, though it only made her more curious as to why Megan wanted to be away from her house to tell her the reason for their meeting. “Can I get you a drink?” Megan looked at Sarah’s half-finished beer,

  “One of those looks good?” she said. Sarah waved to the barman and he sent a girl over with two bottles. As expected she asked Megan for ID before setting the beers down and taking money from Sarah. When all of that was settled and Megan took a sip Sarah asked,