“I can do that.”
Hawkman picked up the arrow and his briefcase. “I've kept you people long enough.” He headed for the door.
Laura quickly followed him out. “Mr. Casey,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “You're going to have to flush this guy out. I don't want to quit school and go to my uncle's place.”
He opened the door to his vehicle, tossed in the briefcase, scooted the cardboard roll with the arrow inside behind the seat, then turned and faced the young woman. “We might be able to track this guy down, once your dad gets the records. Especially, if he's calling from his own phone and not a pay phone.”
“I'm keeping my fingers crossed.”
“The next thing on my agenda could be dangerous. Are you willing to cooperate with me?”
She lowered her head and bit her lower lip. “I don't know. It depends.”
“I'll always be nearby, so it wouldn't be like you're alone.”
“In that case, yes. I'll do whatever you want as long as I know you'll protect me.”
“The first thing I want you to do, is talk to the guy the next time he calls. Egg him on a little. Act like you'd be interested in meeting him, but only in a public place.”
“Okay.”
“Call me immediately if he makes contact.”
She nodded. “Don't worry, I will.”
“I'll talk to you tomorrow.” Hawkman swung himself into his vehicle, backed up, turned around, then waved as he drove toward the road.
Laura crossed her arms and hugged herself as she watched the SUV kick up a dust cloud as it moved away. Her stomach curdled at the thought of enticing the horrible person to meet her someplace. She knew Mr. Casey wanted to catch him before the deadline her father had agreed on. While biting her lower lip, she thought about how the guy hadn't called in a week. She prayed he'd contact her tomorrow.
The cool brisk evening breeze caused her cheeks and ears to tingle. She rubbed her arms and turned back toward the house. “Might as well go back inside and face the folks,” she mumbled.
Jogging across the lawn and up the stairs, she opened the door and quickly stepped into the living room. “It's cold out there.”
Her father sat on the edge of the couch, his hands folded together with his elbows resting on his thighs. Glancing up, he looked his daughter in the face. “Laura, I'm worried. I don't want anything to happen to you.”
She sat down beside him and wrapped her arm around his. “Don't worry, Dad. Mr. Casey is probably right. If anyone is in danger right now, it's him. This horrible person wants me as his girlfriend. So he's not going to do anything to hurt me.”
Olly cocked his head toward Laura. “Shouldn't he know he's chasing a dream? You've not given him any reason to pursue the idea, have you?.”
She shook her head. “Of course not.”
Violet leaned forward. “Has Mr. Casey suggested you try to meet this man?”
Laura gulped. She'd never lied to her parents, but thought it best they not know the plan. “No. He wouldn't put me in any danger.”
“Then how does he plan on finding out who he is?” her mother asked.
“He's collecting evidence, like tracking down the phone number where the calls are coming from, and he's narrowed it down to the guy being interested in archery.”
Her father slapped his leg, causing the two women to jump.
“Doesn't mean a damn thing. There are hundreds of men in this county who hunt with a bow. How's he going to find out the one who's got his sights on you?”
“I don't know, Dad. He's the private investigator, so it's his job to hunt down the clues.”
Olly sighed. “I've done a little snooping myself and discovered Casey's one of the best in the field. So I guess I should be happy you stumbled onto him. If any man can solve this dilemma, he can. I suppose I'll just have to put my trust into the fact he knows what he's doing. I'll get those phone records tomorrow.” He winked at Laura. “Hope you haven't made contact with some good looking chap you don't want your old papa to know about.”
She smiled. “Not a one, Dad.” Laura glanced at her mother. “Have you started dinner yet?”
“We're having leftovers. Why don't you help me for a few minutes. Then you can have the rest of the evening to work on your studies.”
The two women exited to the kitchen. Olly sat for a few minutes staring into space, then rose from the couch, flipped off the lights and strolled into the den where he turned on the television.
Laura could see her mother's concern, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Mom, everything's going to be all right.”
Violet quickly turned and enfolded Laura in her arms. “I'm so worried about you. After you leave the house, I jump when the phone rings, or the door slams. I don't know what kind of news I might get.”
Laura patted her mother's back. “It'll be over soon. I feel it in my heart.” She pushed her mother away and looked into her eyes. “Now get rid of those tears. Nothing is going to happen. I promise.”
“I pray each night Mr. Casey will find the horrible man who's calling you. But there's another thing worrying me.”
Frowning, Laura studied her mother's expression. “What?”
“He probably won't go to prison. What grounds will they have to lock him up? I doubt they'd put him in jail for making harassing phone calls. Even if they did, he'd be out before you turn around and do it again. I want this man put away so he never bothers anyone again. Especially you. Getting caught might make him so angry he'd really come after you with murder on his mind.”
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
CHAPTER TEN
Hawkman turned south on the dirt road and drove about a mile before the next houses appeared, one on each side of the road. Figuring Mr. King meant the one on the same side as his place, he noted the mailboxes and the first one on the right read, Higgins. He took the driveway leading up to a large single story home. The glow of lights gleamed through the windows. An outdoor flood light on a tall pole lit up the back area where he spotted a figure coming from the barn carrying a couple of buckets. He hoped he wouldn't delay their dinner. People hated not to eat when the table was set.
A couple of barking, but tail-wagging dogs greeted his vehicle as he pulled to a stop at the front of the house. When he opened the door to get out, he heard a whistle and a loud but stern voice.
“Rags, Moby, get back here right now.”
The two dogs turned tail and ran full bore around the corner of the house. Hawkman smiled to himself. He liked disciplined animals.
He went up to the front door and before he could knock, it opened. A man, not over five foot ten inches, wearing a straw hat, with tufts of white hair sticking out around the edge, overalls, and long sleeve flannel shirt greeted him.
“Yes, sir, what can I do for ya?”
“Hello, sir. Are you Mr. John Higgins?”
“Sure am.”
“I'm Tom Casey, a private investigator. I just spoke with Mr. King down the road and he told me you hunted with a compound bow.”
The man furrowed his bushy eyebrows. “Is there a problem?”
“Oh, no, sir. I'm on a case where I'm looking for a young man who might be up to no good with his bow and I wondered if you by any chance knew of others in the younger set who also used them.”
Higgins motioned toward the inside. “Why don't you come in out of the cold.”
“I don't want to interrupt your dinner.”
“It'll be about half an hour before we eat. Give me an idea of what you're talking about or looking for.”
Hawkman stepped into to a living room which resembled the Kings', including the doilies on the backs of the chairs and couches. About that time, a tall lanky young man walked into the room. He wore a jeans jacket over a flannel shirt and his Levi's hung on his hips as he had little flesh to hold them up. His hair was cut short and work boots covered his feet.
“This is my youngest son, Joey,” Mr. Higgins said.
<
br /> Hawkman extended his hand. “Hi, Joey, I'm Tom Casey.”
The boy mumbled, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Casey”
“What ya need, son?”
“Should I let Old Red out to pasture? She seems to be doing okay.”
“Yeah, put her in the small field, so we can keep an eye on her.”
The boy left and Higgins turned toward Hawkman. “Sorry for the interruption.”
“No problem.”
“Now your question about the young-ins who use bows to hunt. Well, there's a bunch of kids, both girls and boys who do. My sons all hunt with bows. You got someone in mind?”
“No. I'm trying to find a fellow who shot an arrow into my office door.”
“My boys are not allowed to carry their bows into town unless I'm with them. That's one of my rules as long as they live in this house.”
“Did they take instructions before starting or did you teach them how to use it?”
He laughed. “I don't have the patience. They all took lessons under Roy Summers, an excellent bow master. Compound bows are not playthings. They're as dangerous as guns. Teenagers need to be taught the right way to handle them.”
Hawkman scratched his sideburn. “Is there any fellow your boys wouldn't hunt with, because they think he's too reckless.”
Higgins looked at the ceiling, thinking. “Right off the top of my head I can't think of anyone. I'll have to ask my kids.”
Pulling out his business cards, Hawkman handed him one. “If you come up with a name, would you give me a call?”
“Sure will.”
“Thank you for talking with me, Mr. Higgins. I can smell a delicious aroma coming from your kitchen. I'll get out of here so you can have a peaceful meal.”
Higgins chuckled. “My wife does lay a mean table.”
Hawkman left and as he drove down the driveway, he spotted a couple of young men coming in from the field on horses. It appeared Higgins had a houseful of males. He decided not to stop at the Riley's place tonight as these ranchers liked to come in from a hard day's work, have their dinners, relax, then hit the sack before getting up at sun rise. They didn't need a nosey private investigator showing up to interrupt their evening.
Home sounded good to him, too, so he headed for the freeway. No need to stop by the office, as he had the arrow and briefcase with him. If he planned on getting this case solved in a week, he needed to form a plan on how to continue.
Driving over the Klamath River, he could see the lights beaming from the windows of the house. He hoped everything was okay, as Jennifer had told him she had an appointment tonight. When he walked in the door, she glanced up from her computer.
“Hi, Hon.”
“Thought you had a meeting.”
“Cancelled. A couple of the important members came down with the flu, so we decided to meet in a couple of weeks.”
“Guess this is the season. Sure hope neither of us comes down with it.”
“Where's Miss Marple?”
Jennifer pointed toward the corner. “She really likes that throw.”
Hawkman frowned. “Is she losing her hearing? Usually when I come in, she's wrapping around my legs. She hasn't even looked in my direction.”
“I don't think so; she's just getting older and is more mellow.”
“Sure hope she doesn't forget all her youthful antics. I enjoyed her attention.”
“Remember, it's cold outside and I imagine the floor is drafty. She likes to hunker down on that blanket and it keeps her warm.”
He plunked the briefcase and arrow on the counter, hung his hat in the Hawkman corner, then pulled a beer from the refrigerator. “It's been another fruitless day.”
Jennifer put her computer to sleep, and joined him at the kitchen bar. “Tell me what happened.”
He told her about Olly giving him a week to find the harasser, or he was sending Laura out of state to his brother. Laura didn't want to miss school, and had a fit, but she didn't change her dad's mind. He then told her about stopping at the Higgins’ ranch.
“Maybe Mr. Higgins will give you a boy's name in the next day or two. You also might find something on Laura's phone report.”
“I'm hoping. Otherwise, I'm going back to Roy Summers, the bow master, and talk to him about these private classes he didn't mention.”
“He probably thought you were just interested in the sports shop's clients.”
Hawkman shrugged. “You'd have thought he'd have mentioned the others.”
“Why?”
He eyed his wife. “I don't know. Out of principle.”
“Why?”
Cocking his head, he looked at her. “Don't you think it would have been the normal line of conversation.”
“Not if you were in the shop which hires him. I'd think he'd want to give them as much of the business as possible, since they do pay him.”
“I see your point. I think.”
She smiled. “Regardless, it doesn't appear you have much time to bring this case to a head. What are you going to do?”
He confided the plan he'd set up with Laura. “If I could get the license plate of his vehicle, his name, even a good look at the guy, it would at least give me a starting point. Right now, I'm dangling with nothing.” At that moment, the phone rang. He reached across the counter and picked up the receiver. “Tom Casey here.”
He quickly grabbed a pen out of the holder, and scribbled on a paper pad. “Thank you, Mr. Higgins. I appreciate the call.”
As he hung up, Jennifer pulled the notebook toward her. “Greg and Steve Wallace, town boys.” She glanced at Hawkman. “They must be brothers.”
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Early Thursday morning, Hawkman awakened to find Miss Marple rolled up in a ball between him and Jennifer. He felt the coldness in the air and could even see his breath. Hopping out of bed, he dashed in and flipped on the furnace, then jumped back between the covers until the house warmed. The night temperature had really dropped and it wouldn't surprise him to see snow on the ground. He couldn't go back to sleep, so he grabbed his clothes off the chair and went to the bathroom. After a hot steaming shower and shave, he felt his blood had at least heated up enough to venture to the kitchen. A cup of hot coffee would take off the edge.
Glancing out the window, it surprised him not to see icicles hanging from the gutters, nor any snow on the ground. The brown grass glistened with frost and when the early morning sun beams streaked across the roof of the fire house, it twinkled like diamonds.
Jennifer strolled into the room wrapped in a heavy robe with furry house shoes. “Brrrr, it's cold.”
“It is. I wanted to cuddle this morning, but found an obstacle in my way,” he said, eyeing the cocky little cat.
Jennifer reached down and stroked the feline's back. “She knew where to get cozy.”
“Want a cup of coffee?”
“Sounds wonderful.”
They sat at the kitchen bar and chatted, then Hawkman glanced at his watch. “I'm going into town and see if I can catch Detective Williams. I'm going to ask if those Wallace brothers are known by the police.”
“You be careful; I'm sure there's black ice on the road. The four-by-four won't help you there.”
“I will.” He reached over and gave her a kiss, shrugged into his Marlboro coat, then picked up the briefcase and arrow, left out the front door, and closed it quickly to prevent any frigid air from entering.
Hawkman rolled into the police department's lot and parked. Leaving the valise and arrow under the passenger seat, he stepped out of the warm vehicle, turned up the collar of his coat and held onto his hat as a cold brisk breeze whipped around the corner of the building. He hurried into the department's main lobby, greeted familiar faces and headed down the hall to Williams’ office. The door stood open, so he poked his head around and noticed Williams at his usual task of signing papers.
“Do you ever get writer's cramp?” Hawkman ask
ed.
Williams glanced up, raised his hand and twitched his fingers, then broke into a big grin. “Hey, buddy, good to see you. Where have you been keeping yourself?”
“Busy on cases.” He pointed to the stack of papers on the desk. “I can see you've had your share.”
The detective shook his head. “It never stops.” He gestured toward a chair. “Have a seat and tell me what's on your mind.”
Hawkman gave him a quick run-down on Laura King and how an arrow had been shot at his door. “I'm trying to find the culprit. I'm sure the incidents are connected due to the note. However, I have no eye witnesses, nor has Laura ever seen her stalker. She doesn't have an inkling who it could be. So I've been questioning people and came across a couple of names I thought I'd ask you about.”
“Shoot.”
“The Wallace brothers.”
Williams groaned. “God, don't tell me you've encountered Steve and Greg Wallace.”
“Not yet, but obviously they aren't strangers to you.”
“They're a couple of rowdies. We've had them in here numerous times for one thing or another. My officers are constantly pulling over their black pickup for speeding or reckless driving.”
“Have they ever been jailed?”
“Their dad, Al Wallace, is one of the wealthiest men in the county. He bails them out and sends them home to do the same thing the next day.”
“Certainly doesn't sound like they're learning any good lessons.”
“They're a couple of wild ones and it will be only a matter of time when the old man can't bail them out.”
“Would you by any chance know if they're owners of a compound bow?”
“Yep. We've confiscated a couple off them.”
“What were they doing?”
“Showing off at the county fair. They'd been denied an entry into the bow competition, but barged into the arena toting their bows and the police had to haul their butts out. They're a couple of law breakers and have no respect for rules and regulations.”
“How old are they?”
The Archer [Book 13 of the Hawkman Series] Page 5
