The Archer [Book 13 of the Hawkman Series]

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  “It's not good for you to eat so fast,” Violet said, sipping on a cup of coffee.

  “I'm running late and I don't want Mr. Casey to worry about me. I've caused enough strife in our family. I sure don't need to bring on more.”

  “It makes me feel more at ease, knowing he's going to be watching you to and from school. I worry from the time you drive out of the driveway until you're home at night.”

  Laura reached over and patted her mother's hand. “I know.” She glanced toward the living room. “Where's Dad?”

  “He had to run into town to get some grain for Big Ears.” Violet grinned. “I can't help but chuckle when I think of that crazy mule butting Mr. Casey.”

  Laura laughed. “I wish I'd seen it.” She jumped up, threw on her jeans jacket and grabbed her back pack. “Gotta run; see ya later.”

  “Do you have enough money for lunch?” Violet asked, getting up from the table.

  “Yeah, I'm fine,” Laura called over her shoulder, as she ran out the door and hopped into her car.

  Heading toward the college, she kept a sharp eye out for, not only a black pickup, but also for the blue vehicle Mr. Casey would be driving. There weren't many places he could pull off, but she suspected he could be on one of the side roads or even in someone's driveway. She'd not received any phone calls in several days, and prayed the person had given up on trying to contact her, which in her heart, she doubted.

  With her hand on the steering wheel, her sleeve had slid up and revealed the tracking bracelet. She liked the idea of having it on, plus the one under the car fender. It made her feel more secure, knowing Mr. Casey had done all this for her protection.

  Ahead, in a clump of trees, the sun's reflection glinting off something big and shiny caught her eye. She couldn't tell the color due to the glare and her heart leaped when a vehicle moved onto the road after she passed. A wave of relief surged through her when she could make out the small blue SUV. He stayed quite a distance back, which she understood. No need for it to appear she had a tail.

  The rest of the trip went without incident and Laura pulled into the student parking lot, and watched the blue vehicle go by the entry. She felt the trip home would be more precarious. Finding a slot, she parked, and wondered what Mr. Casey would do for the next few hours. Curling her arms through the straps of her backpack, she hoisted it over her shoulders, locked up the car and just as she unzipped the pocket in her fanny pack to store the car keys, her cell phone rang. Hands trembling, she flipped it open and saw ‘unidentified number'. “Hello", she said, her voice shaking.

  She leaned against the side of the car as she listened to the voice, and remembered Mr. Casey wanted her to spur this person into a meeting, if possible.

  “I'd like to meet you, but don't even know your name,” she said.

  She listened for a moment, then responded, “No. It has to be at a public place.”

  Hanging up, she hit the save button, closed the lid and bit her lower lip. It bothered her that this person always disguised his voice. She scanned the cars in the lot, wondering if he'd watched her while making the call. Most of the time, she couldn't tell if it was a male or female. Mr. Casey referred to the individual as a male. After he heard this message, she'd ask what he thought. She didn't have time to notify him right now; it would have to wait until between classes. Shrugging her shoulders, she hurried to her first period.

  Laura had a hard time concentrating on her studies, as the phone call kept going through her mind. It embarrassed her when the professor called on her and she had to ask him to repeat the question. She answered okay, but her whole body quivered, and she could feel her face burning.

  The hour seemed to drag, and finally the bell signaled for the class to dismiss. She had approximately fifteen minutes to get to the next one. Since she only had to go a few doors down the hall, she scooted outside and quickly gave Tom Casey a call. He answered immediately and she quickly told him about the message.

  “Yes, I saved it.”

  She listened to his instructions. “Okay. Talk to you later.” Closing the cell phone, she went back inside the building and strolled down the corridor to her next class.

  Laura thought the day would never end, and let out a sigh when the last bell rang. Gathering her books, she loaded her backpack and slung it over her shoulders. She hurried down the steps into the parking lot, eager to get on the road toward home. When only a few feet from the car, she suddenly stopped in her tracks in disbelief, and let out a loud groan. “Oh, no.”

  Not believing her eyes, she dropped down on her haunches and ran her hands over the flat rear tire. She knew how to change it, but the chore would take her at least thirty minutes and Mr. Casey would be worried. Unlocking the car, she threw her load of books inside, slipped under the steering wheel, closed and locked the door, then glanced into the rearview mirror. Her heart dropped to her stomach. Parked in the slot directly behind her was a black pickup. The bed of the truck interfered with her view, but she could see two figures in the cab. However, the dark tinted rear window made it difficult to recognize them. Snatching her cell phone from her fanny pack, she called Tom Casey.

  When he answered, she said. “You're not going to believe this, but I have a flat tire and it's going to take me at least a half hour to change it. Also, there's a black pickup parked in the slot behind me. I can't see who's in it, because the window is tinted.”

  She quickly turned around and stared at the license plate. “Yes, I can see it,” and she relayed the numbers. “I have no idea who owns it.”

  Listening intently for several seconds, she wiped a hand across her face. “Okay, but I know how to do it. No, they haven't left the pickup,” she said, glancing into her rearview mirror. After hanging up, she hunkered down in the seat and pretended to be studying one of her books, while still keeping an eye on the truck. To her amazement, a girl ran out to the black vehicle, one of the occupants hopped out and let her inside. Laura furrowed her brow, turned around in the seat and watched as the truck drove off.

  Soon Mr. Casey pulled up and parked where the black truck had been. Laura jumped out of her car and met him in the middle. “I just saw the strangest thing happen.”

  “Let's get the jack and spare out of your trunk, then you can tell me while I fix the flat.”

  She opened the rear lid and lifted out the equipment needed. While Hawkman pumped the jack, he said, “Okay, what'd you see?”

  “Remember, I told you about the black pickup parked where you are now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cindy Brown came from the campus, and climbed into the cab. I'd swear the guy who got out to let her in, looked like Greg Wallace.”

  Hawkman stopped working and stared at her. “Are you sure?”

  “I haven't seen the Wallace brothers in a long time, but he sure resembled him.”

  “Could you tell if the driver happened to be his brother, Steve?”

  “No, I never got a good view of who occupied the driver's seat, as he pulled straight ahead,” she pointed, “and drove out the far exit.”

  Hawkman replaced the tire. “Glad you have a regular one instead of those makeshift things.” He turned the flattened rubber over several times and frowned. “Odd, I don't see what caused this to go flat; there's no nail or damage to the tire.” Then he looked at the valve core. “I think someone's been messing with your car.”

  She looked at him with worried eyes. “What did they do?”

  “The valve stem and cap are gone, which caused the air to escape. Did you see anyone standing around the area when you got out of class?”

  “No.”

  “What about the guys in the black pickup?”

  “They were inside the truck when I got out here, and didn't even look around when I approached my car.”

  Hawkman put the tire into the trunk and closed the lid. “You need to get the stem fixed. You don't want to be without a spare. Why don't we go do that right now.”

  She bowed her head and
blushed. “I don't have any money, I spent it all on lunch.”

  He patted her on the shoulder. “It's on me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Call your folks, let them know you're safe and I'm here. Don't worry them about our suspicions; just tell them you had a flat and we're getting it fixed before heading home.”

  “Sounds good.” She smiled. “My family trades at a station on the way. We'll stop there. One of the mechanics will gladly help me.”

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  * * *

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  When Laura got within a quarter of a mile of home, a black pickup rolled out of a side road and pulled behind the green Toyota. Hawkman pressed the accelerator, and noticed Laura did the same. Thankful Jennifer's new vehicle had some guts, he soon caught up, and noticed the black truck had not increased its speed. He also observed the back window wasn't tinted. The profile of Mr. Higgins showed through the glass, as he turned his head to converse with the person in the passenger seat. They passed the Kings’ and moseyed on toward their place.

  Hawkman turned into the driveway soon after Laura, and drove around to the back of the house. He wanted to hear the message she'd received.

  Laura strolled toward him, as he climbed out of the Ford Escape.

  “Boy, when the Higgins pulled behind me, my heart skipped a hundred beats,” she said.

  Hawkman nodded. “Took me a moment to figure it out, too. Could you tell who occupied the passenger seat?”

  “Joey. The Higgins own a small plot across the road. They were probably checking on the cattle they have grazing there.”

  “Makes sense.” He stood with arms crossed and legs apart. “Do you have time for me to listen to the call you received today?”

  “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.” She turned and headed for the back door. “Let's go inside where it's warmer. I also have a question I want to ask after you've heard it.”

  They hovered over the kitchen table with Olly and Violet looking on. Hawkman placed his recorder next to her cell phone, then gave her the signal to start the message. After it ended, he clicked off the small instruments.

  “It sounds like one of the same voices I've recorded before,” he said.

  Laura picked up her phone. “Does it sound like a boy or girl to you?”

  “Male, why?”

  “I detected an inflection in the voice which sounded feminine to me.” She looked into Hawkman's face. “I'm also aware of these little gadgets called ‘voice changers'. In one of my classes we were studying criminals and the devices they'd use to throw people off track. It made me wonder if we're looking in the wrong direction.”

  Hawkman grinned. “I think I'll hire you as my assistant. That's a great observation, and you just might be correct.” He flipped on the recorder and listened again. “You're right, I hear it too. I'm heading back to my office to listen to the others.” He pocketed the recorder. “Same routine tomorrow. I'll see you on the road in the morning.”

  “Okay.” Laura walked him to the door.

  Hawkman turned. “Have a good evening, Mr. and Mrs. King.”

  “Thank you,” they said in unison.

  Heading down the road, Hawkman could see he'd underestimated the minds of youth. A voice changer had never entered his thoughts. He had to hand it to Laura; she might have hit the nail on the head.

  When he reached his office, he booted up the computer, then took the disc from the safe on which he'd recorded the other messages, and slipped them into the slot drive. He listened intently and recognized the inflection in all, but the voice he thought he'd recognized earlier. Now he wasn't sure, as the changer could make a big difference. However, it could have been a recording off the web. He'd heard some of these voice-overs you could insert into a book or movie trailer. You could find about anything you wanted.

  He picked up the receiver from the landline, punched in Laura's cell phone number and pushed speaker phone.

  “Hello, Mr. Casey.”

  “Hi, Laura, hope I didn't catch you at dinner.”

  “Nope, it's not ready yet.”

  “Good, I need to ask you some questions.”

  “Sure.”

  “You told me you'd learned about voice changers in one of your classes at the college. What was the name of the class?”

  “Speech Comprehension.”

  “Really.”

  “Yes, our professor made it more interesting by using a voice changer to talk to us in one of the classes. We studied this topic right at first; now we've gone into learning to speak with better inflection ourselves.”

  “Did you make recordings?”

  “Oh, yeah. Many of them. Some were hilarious.”

  “Are you still in that class?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who are some of the people attending?”

  “Jason Calderidge, Blake Russell, Cindy Brown and even Joey Higgins, plus a bunch of others.”

  “Joey Higgins?”

  “He told me his dad wanted him to learn how to speak up. I'm sure if you've ever talked to him, you know he mumbles something terrible.”

  “Yes, but I had no idea he attended college.”

  “I think he's planning to enroll full time as soon as he can. He really hates the farm. Right now, as far as I know, it's the only course he's taking.”

  “Thanks, Laura. I find that bit of information very interesting. See you in the morning.”

  After hanging up, Hawkman leaned back and rubbed his chin. A few more pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. He didn't like the picture, but felt he'd finally stepped on the right path. Now to catch the villain, and he felt it wouldn't be long before the person showed his hand.

  He added the latest message to the disc, erased the new one on the recorder, then replaced it with the recording he questioned. Placing the CD into his briefcase, he slipped the recorder into his shirt pocket, rolled his chair back to the safe, closed it and spun the wheel. Giving the top a pat, he stood, stretched his arms above his head, and let out a long breath.

  He hoped the plan he had in mind would work. Shrugging into his jacket, he adjusted his hat, grabbed the valise and left the office. He headed back on the road toward the Kings’ ranch. His mind drifted to Jennifer; he hoped she'd not had any bad experiences when she came into Medford. Fortunately, he hadn't received a call. Knowing his little spitfire of a wife, she'd first try to handle the incident herself. He prayed a situation hadn't presented itself.

  Passing the Kings’ driveway, Hawkman drove toward the Higgins’ place. They probably weren't going to be very happy with him for dropping in at dinner time, but he felt it necessary. He turned up the dirt road leading to the house and the two dogs, Rags and Moby announced his arrival. A shrill whistle sounded as Joey jogged around the corner of the house.

  “Go lay down, you silly dogs,” he called, clapping his hands.

  Hawkman climbed out of the SUV. “Hi, Joey, you're just the man I want to see.”

  Joey looked surprised. “I didn't recognize your car.”

  “I borrowed my wife's today.”

  The young man walked around it. “Sweet.”

  “You like it?” “I'd love to have its twin.” He mumbled. Then he strolled up to Hawkman's side. “Why do you want to see me?”

  Hawkman leaned against the fender. “I understand you're taking a class at the college.”

  “I guess Laura told you.”

  He nodded.

  “Dad wanted me to take a particular course, so I'd learn to speak out. I guess I mumble a lot.”

  “It is hard to understand you at times. Do you think the course is helping?”

  Joey shrugged. “I don't know. It's hard to speak in front of people.”

  “I understand you recorded your voice to see how you were doing.”

  “Yeah. I did a bad one. It didn't turn out very good.”

  “Did you write out your own speech?”

  “No, I got help from a buddy who recorded it.”


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  * * *

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Joey's eyes grew big and he slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Oh, my, where'd you get that?”

  “Before I tell you, I need to know who recorded this message,” Hawkman said.

  “Jason Calderidge, but he did it as a lark. We all got a big laugh out of it.”

  “Who else knew about this?”

  “Probably every one in class.” He rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled his boots in the dirt. “This is not good. If you were able to find a copy, I wonder how many others have it?”

  “Did you keep one?”

  Joey shook his head. “No, I had no reason to listen to it again. I figured Jason probably erased it. Who'd want it after we all had our jollies?”

  “Good question. I have a feeling you're not going to like how I acquired this one.”

  Furrowing his brow he stared at Hawkman. “Why?”

  “My client saved the recording from her cell phone and gave it to me. Some one sent it to her about a week ago to give her a good scare.”

  The young man slammed one fist into the other. “Damn, damn! I should have known I couldn't trust Jason.”

  “Maybe he didn't do this deed. Someone in the class could have either made a recording of his own, or borrowed Jason's and copied it.”

  “I'll sure as hell find out.” He removed his cell phone from his pocket and punched a button, then put it to his ear. “Jason, this is Joey. Call me as soon as you can.”

  He closed the cell and looked at Hawkman. “He didn't answer. When I hear from him, I'll call you.”

  Hawkman handed him a business card. “I'd appreciate it.”

  Joey nodded. “I feel awful. I'd never hassle someone like that.”

  Putting his hand on the car door, Hawkman said, “I had a strange feeling I'd heard the voice on the recording, but couldn't place it. I'd only met you once, and you were hardly audible. Keep working on your voice projection. It will help as you go down life's road.”

  Hawkman watched Joey, his shoulders slumped as he walked toward the back of the house. The two dogs joined him, and ran around his feet wanting to play. He didn't appear to even have the heart or energy to toss a stick.