Williams scratched the stubble on his chin, making a sound like sandpaper. “They're in their early twenties, but right off the top of my head I can't remember their exact ages, but they're really close. Not more than eighteen months apart; and to look at them, you'd think they were twins.”
“I hate to ask, but do you have any mug shots?”
“I'm sure we do. Hang on a second and I'll see if I can pull the files.”
The detective left the room for a few minutes, then returned. “Alice will do that little chore for me, and I told her to make a copy of each. She'll bring them in.”
“Great. I don't know if these guys have anything to do with what I'm looking for, but they're the first lead I've had.”
“You have to start somewhere. By the way, how's that pretty little wife of yours?”
“She's great and still writing mystery stories.”
“With all the information you supply, she has plenty to write about.”
“Tell me. She pumps me all the time about my cases.”
Williams chuckled. “She's a great lady. Count yourself lucky. Not many like her around.”
Hawkman nodded. “She's my life.”
Alice walked in with papers in her hand. “Well, hello, Hawkman. Williams didn't tell me it was you who wanted copies of these two rascals.”
“How are you, Alice?”
“I'm doing just fine.” She handed the copies to the detective. “Sure glad the holidays are over; maybe things can return to normal. Seems Christmas comes around faster every year.” She started to leave the room, then turned. “Tell Jennifer I said hello, and am waiting for her next book.”
Hawkman lifted a hand. “I'll do that.”
Williams passed a copy of the sheets to Hawkman. He glanced through the stats, then looked up at the detective.
“Says here the mother is deceased. When did she die and how?”
“About seven years ago, if my memory serves me right. She had breast cancer and didn't discover it in time. Even though she had a double mastectomy and went through a couple of years of chemotherapy, it came back. But this time, all over her body. She was a fine woman. It about killed Al Wallace. I think he lets those boys go without discipline because he couldn't stand the thought of hurting them in any way, especially since they lost their mother.”
“Sad, but he isn't helping them by paying their way out of trouble. Do Greg or Steve have jobs or go to school?” Hawkman pointed to the papers. “Doesn't say here.”
“Nothing we know about. I think Steve started college, then dropped out after his Freshman year. I'm not sure Greg ever started.”
Hawkman stood. “I better get out of here so you can finish penning your name to those papers. Don't want you blaming me for getting behind.”
Williams grinned. “You're already the bad guy; you've delayed me at least forty-five minutes.”
“I'm out of here.”
Before Hawkman could get through the door, Williams called, “Let me know if you need my help.”
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
CHAPTER TWELVE
Hawkman sat in his vehicle for a few minutes and read through the reports on the two Wallace brothers. He could definitely see where the boys looked like twins from their mug shots. Same jaw lines, noses, mouths, and they wore their hair in similar cuts. The eyes were shaped a little different, but they were good-looking young men. The pictures were black and white so he had to read the description. They both had black hair and green eyes; and one was five feet, nine inches tall, the other five feet, ten inches. Noting the address, he realized the Wallaces lived in the most elite neighborhood in town. Hawkman shook his head as he placed the papers on the passenger seat. “A couple of rich spoiled brats,” he mumbled, as he turned on the ignition.
He decided to drive by their home, and get a feel for what he could be in for when he decided to talk to them. As he entered the area, the scenery took his breath away. Each lot consisted of at least an acre, surrounded by a stone or brick wall. Elaborate displays of fountains or statues decorated the front center of lawns. Sculptured shrubs lined the sidewalks leading up to the fancy entry ways. He didn't notice many flower gardens in the front, but figured they were in the backyards where the family or guests would gather around the pools and patios. He finally found the Wallaces’ place. A regal two story palace. It stood on a corner lot, and as he turned onto the next street, he could see a tennis court at the back, surrounded by a high wire fence. Tall spot lights, which would light up the whole area for a night game, were erected on high poles at each corner. Past the court, and through the breaks in the large redwood trees, he could make out the outline of a pool area with all the amenities money could buy. “What a mansion,” he gasped aloud.
He made a U-turn and as he turned onto the street facing the house, one of the three doors of the garage opened and a late model black pickup backed out. The door slid back down and the vehicle turned and went around the circular driveway coming out in front of him. They blared their horn as they charged onto the street, forcing Hawkman to hit his brakes hard to avoid hitting the truck. The two young men gave him the finger as they surged ahead, leaving rubber on the pavement. Hawkman watched the pickup fishtail, then speed down the road. He prayed he wouldn't have to deal with those two scalawags.
Driving toward his office, he didn't come across the black pickup again, and wondered how those two spent their day. After he parked and started toward the stairs, the smell of fresh pastries hit his senses and he detoured to the bakery. A bear claw in hand, along with the briefcase, he jogged up the stairwell and entered his workplace.
He placed the valise on the desk, and had put on the coffee pot before he noticed the red blinking light of the answering machine. Pushing the button, he heard Laura's voice.
“Mr. Casey, I'm between classes, and discovered I had a voice message on my cell phone. It's from the caller. I've saved it and will drop by your office about two-thirty when I'm through for the day.”
It would be interesting to hear this guy's voice, and he hoped it would record onto his machine, so he'd have a copy. He quickly checked the battery power on his voice activated recorder. It showed almost full, but he plugged it in anyway, so he'd have a full charge.
Hawkman glanced at his watch and realized she'd be here in about an hour. He wouldn't have time to go see the archery expert, beforehand, so he'd wait until Laura left.
While waiting for the young woman, he poured a cup of coffee, and munched on the pastry as he again read through the Wallace brothers’ reports from Detective Williams. He'd ask Laura if she knew these young men.
It wasn't long before a soft knock sounded on his door. “Come in,” he called.
Laura stuck her head in first. “Hi, Mr. Casey. I hope I didn't cause a problem leaving a message on your machine.”
“Not at all. I'm glad you did. I'm anxious to hear the voice of this person. Come on in and have a seat.”
She entered the office looking like a typical college student, wearing jeans, a hooded sweat shirt and cowboy boots. Scooting into the chair in front of his desk, she unzipped her fanny pack, pulled out her cell phone, and placed it on his desk.
“Will your parents worry about you if you don't arrive home at a given time?”
She shook her head. “I called and told them I'd be stopping by your office, so I'd be a little late.”
“Good. Okay, let me hear what this guy had to say.”
Hawkman put the phone to his ear and listened. He frowned as he heard the message. Once the voice stopped, he unplugged the recorder, and placed the phone over it, then pushed the button so the message would repeat. After the recorder stopped, he played the communication.
“Hello, pretty one. I love to watch you walking down the street swinging your butt. Gives me a hard on every time. I sure want to get between those shapely legs of yours.” Laura blushed as the words played. Then the guy laughed and dropped the connection.
&nb
sp; She reached up and put her hands on her ears. “I hate him and I don't even know who he is.”
Hawkman stared at the phone for a moment. “He's very crude. Definitely not a gentleman. It's strange he'd say such things if he really wanted to get close to you. It puzzles me.”
Laura nodded. “I don't understand it either. I never talk dirty or use foul language, so if he knows anything about me at all, he should recognize the fact I'll never be his girlfriend when he talks like that.”
“You think he might have you mixed up with someone else?”
She shook her head. “No. He knows exactly who he's talking to, because he repeated my whole name and where I live.”
“He's called you Laura King before?”
“Yes. In one of the first calls I received from him a month or so ago. He called me by name and described our house.”
“The outside or inside?”
“Outside, along with our barn and my pet lamb, Wendy.”
“Sounds like he's been to your place.”
She looked at him wide eyed. “When?”
“Did your dad ever make a list of his hired hands?”
“I don't know. I'll ask him tonight.”
“Do you know Greg and Steve Wallace?”
She turned her lip up, forming a scowl and wrinkled her nose. “Yes, everyone knows those two. They're wild and do horrible things. No one likes them.”
“Have you ever met with them in any way?”
“No. I keep my distance from those two.”
“What about your neighbors?”
“Which ones?”
“The Higgins. There're boys in that family.”
“They're nice. They've always helped us out when we needed it, and Dad has always been a good neighbor to their family.”
“Tell me about them.”
“John and Margy have three sons, Jim, Jerry, and Joey. Jim and Jerry are the oldest.”
“How old?”
“She squinted her eyes. “I think in their late twenties. They love the farm and have always stayed close to home. Joey just graduated from high school and plans on going to college next year. He doesn't care for the outdoor work like his brothers.”
“How do you know so much about these fellows?”
“Gosh, we've been neighbors for as long as I can remember. When we were little, we used to play together. Their family is always part of the social gatherings, also Mom and Margy are real good friends, as are our dads.”
“What about the Rileys?”
She shrugged. “I don't know much about them. They moved into the farm house about three years ago and are quite a bit younger than my folks. I think they have a couple of little kids, not sure, as they stay pretty much to themselves; but they seem like a real cordial family.”
“You better journey home before your mom gets worried. Thanks for stopping by with this call. Remember what I told you. The next time he contacts you and you manage to talk to him, egg him on.”
She shuddered. “It gives me the willies to think about, but I'll do it.”
Hawkman pointed a finger at her. “Don't you dare go to meet him without letting me know.”
“Don't worry. I wouldn't think of it.”
“You can erase that message if you like. I have my copy, and you might not want to leave that one on your phone.”
“Thanks, I don't want it on there. It makes me feel dirty. She immediately took her cell phone and punched a few buttons.”
After she left, Hawkman listened to the message again and furrowed his brow.
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hawkman hankered to listen to the recording again, but didn't have time if he wanted to catch Roy Summers before the store closed. He packed up his gear, and took care of the coffee pot, as he figured he wouldn't be coming back to the office. Hurrying down the stairs, he hopped into his 4X4, started the engine and began to back up when he realized something was wrong. He jumped out and immediately spotted the flat back tire. When he kneeled down on his haunches, he saw the problem. An arrow had pierced the rubber and lay broken beside the wheel where he'd rolled over it.
He glanced up and down the alley, but saw nothing suspicious. Obviously, someone had followed Laura to his office, and speared the tire while they were talking. He walked around the vehicle to make sure it was the only one hit. Raising the back lid of the SUV, he removed the jack and spare, then continued to change the tire. Once he finished, he plopped the bad one into the back, and put the jack away. Wiping his hands on a rag, he closed the lid and climbed into the driver's seat. This had delayed him for almost an hour. If he hurried, there might be the chance he could still catch the master archer before he left work.
Since Summer's office was located at the back of the building, Hawkman drove down the alley, figuring that's where the instructor would park. Just as he pulled behind the sport's shop, he noted a black pickup driving out the opposite direction. Not knowing the make or model of the man's vehicle, he took the chance it wasn't him, and tried the back door, only to find it locked. He knocked, but no one answered, so he hurried around to the front, only to find the place closed for the evening. Going back to his 4X4, he left, and decided tomorrow, he'd hit the store earlier.
Hawkman decided to go back to the office and compare the arrow he found in the tire to the earlier one from the assault on his door. They almost looked identical down to the black and yellow feather fletching. He pulled the note pad over and reminded himself to ask Roy Summers if it meant anything to an archer to have certain colors on the fletching. Putting the arrows back into his safe, he picked up the receiver and dialed Laura's house. He wanted to make sure the girl had arrived home safe. She answered the phone and assured him all had gone well on her drive home and she'd not heard anymore from the anonymous caller.
Since Laura had mentioned the harasser, it reminded him to listen to the recording again. Plugging the machine into the electrical socket instead of using up the battery life, he leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes, and tried to remember where he'd heard the voice. He rubbed his temples, but nothing helped. It sounded a little muffled, like a towel or cloth covered the mouth piece. Finally, he turned off the machine and let it rest. He'd have Jennifer check it out tonight. Maybe the two of them could discuss it and she'd bring up something that would jar his memory.
He opened the drawer in his desk to retrieve the charger, and spotted his GPS tracker. He opened the case and checked the contents. This could be a life saver for Laura. Once he attached the piece to her car, he could track her whereabouts if the guy caught her in a corner. Hawkman assumed she'd agree to let him put the device on her vehicle. He'd take it home and plug it in all night, then it would last for several days before it needed charging again. His spirits lifted as things were coming together and a plan formed in his mind.
He tucked the equipment into his briefcase and decided to head for home. When he arrived, he found Jennifer on the floor of the living room, playing with Miss Marple.
“What the heck are you two doing?” he asked, grinning.
“I'm trying to introduce her to a new stuffed toy. She damaged the other one so badly, the stuffing is strewn all over the place. Well, I think she helped by pulling it out. There's no way I can fix it since the material is so worn and tattered.”
“Does she like the new one?”
“It was sort of comical. When I found the flattened bunny, I think she realized it was ‘dead’ and immediately pulled this one out of her toy box. So this must be her next pick.”
Hawkman shook his head. “She's something else. I'd say she's a conniver in her own right.”
Jennifer pushed herself off the floor and joined her husband at the kitchen bar. “Have you had a productive day?”
“Depends. I had to fix a flat and failed to catch the guy I wanted to talk to.”
She frowned. “Doesn't sound like fun. How'd you get a flat tire?”
; He told her about the arrow and the time it took replacing the tire made him miss the archery expert.”
“I sure don't like the idea of this guy shooting at you. He sounds mighty dangerous, and very irresponsible.”
“You're right.” He fumbled in his briefcase and pulled out the recorder. “I want you to listen and tell me if you've ever heard this voice before. Oh, wait a minute, I've got to plug this GPS tracker in right now. I want it charged to the hilt.”
“What do you plan on doing with it?” Jennifer asked, as she watched him plug it into the electrical socket.
“I'll tell you after you've listened to the recording.”
He punched the button, and Jennifer gasped as she put her fingers to her lips. “How crude. Did this guy actually say those things to Laura?”
Hawkman nodded. “He left this message on her cell phone.”
“He's sick.”
“Have you ever heard the voice?”
“Play it again, I was more engrossed in what he said.”
He hit the replay button and Jennifer listened, frowning. “It sounds like he's got mush in his mouth, but I'd say he has one of those voices that sounds like everyone else. I can't identify it. Do you know who it is?”
“I thought I'd heard it before, but I'm not sure either. I've played it several times, but can't put my finger on the person. Like you say, it's a bit muffled.”
“Sorry, I can't help. What's your plan with the tracker?”
After he explained, she smiled. “Excellent idea.”
“Do you think Laura will believe I'm invading her privacy?”
“No. I'm sure she'll feel much safer if she gets into a bind and can't tell you her location. My guess is, it would put her mind at ease.”
“I thought the same thing, but I never know about these young women.”
“Explain it to her you're not eavesdropping on her conversations. All the tracker does is tell you the location of the car.”
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hawkman went back to his home workplace and sat down at the desk. While the computer booted up, he rummaged through his briefcase to find Laura's class schedule. He glanced at the periods for Friday and it appeared she had a short day. After lunch, he'd give her a call, since he wanted to set up a time as soon as possible to place the tracker on her car.
The Archer [Book 13 of the Hawkman Series] Page 6
