Moonshine Murder [Hawkman Bk 14] (3 page)

"Can't. Have a court date; but maybe the end of the week. I expect the trial to last only one day."

She snapped her fingers. “Oh, that's right. I need to check your suit and see if it needs pressing."

Hawkman threw up his hands. “Honey, don't worry about it. The wrinkles will fall out the minute I put it on. Besides, who's going to notice?"

His tirade fell on deaf ears as she'd already headed for the bedroom, soon to come out with the garments over her arm. She set up the ironing board, had the suit, shirt and tie back on the hanger, before he could say much more.

"Man, you're fast."

She smiled, as she put everything away. “You may call me the miracle woman."

He grinned and shook his head. “I'm lost for words."

She stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on the chin. “It's because you agree."

Tuesday morning, Hawkman left the house dressed in a suit, but carried a duffle bag packed with more comfortable clothes. He drove straight to the courthouse, took his seat in the room, and waited for several hours before the lawyer called him to the stand.

Once he testified, and the trial ended, he drove back to the office. He thought about his testimony against Cindy Brown, the dangerous young woman in his last case. He knew she needed help, plus deserved punishment for her actions with the compound bow. It relieved him to hear the judge sentence her to mandatory psychiatric care and other restrictions. The girl definitely had a problem.

Since Hawkman spent most of his day in court, he could hardy wait to change clothes. He stuffed the suit into the small suitcase, knowing Jennifer wouldn't be too happy; but he'd forgotten to bring any hangers. Once comfortable, he made a few phone calls, then left for home.

When he walked in the door, he found Jennifer at the kitchen bar, phone glued to her ear and writing on a sheet of paper. Her intent expression gave him the gut feeling something serious had happened.

He waited patiently, curious to know the origin of the call and the purpose. When she hung up, she turned to him.

"I just got a report you'll be interested to hear."

"What about?"

"It could involve the mysterious new family. You'll have to decide."

"I'm listening."

"What's strange is we didn't hear one of these happenings since our bedroom faces the lake, and we usually have the sliding glass door open."

"I'm game, what event?"

"The taking of one of the store boats from the pier two nights ago. They found it floating in the middle of the lake."

"How does any one know it just didn't come loose from its mooring?"

"Because it was late when Ike heard a motor and looked out his window. As you know, we seldom hear boats at night. If we do, they usually have lights. All he could see was a silhouette of a person puttering down the lake."

"It's baffling; like you say, we didn't hear the motor start up. However, he could have rowed out a distance before starting it. At least the person didn't wreck the boat. Maybe he just needed a ride home."

"Are you making excuses for a person stealing a boat?"

Hawkman reared back his head. “Of course not. There must be a reason for this strange behavior. Obviously, he had no intent of taking the boat home. Instead, he just let it float away, knowing it would be found."

Jennifer nodded. “Okay. Have it your way.” She glanced up at her husband. “The next incident also occurred at night, and there was probably no crime committed, but it's odd."

"I'm ready."

"Marjorie Jones, who lives in the last house west of us, couldn't sleep last night. She lay in bed reading when she heard the clop of horse's hooves and rolling wheels going down the road. She thought it odd to hear such a thing at eleven o'clock. So she turned out her light and peeked through the window. To her amazement, a man and a woman, who appeared to have a baby in her arms, with two boys in the back, were riding in this old wagon with wooden wheels drawn by a horse, going west. She'd never seen these people before."

Hawkman scratched his head. “They must have gone right by our house, too. If they went to town to shop, they'd have left in the wee hours in the morning and no one would have seen them depart. These are some strange stories you've hit me with, combined with the others from the ladies’ auxiliary. I feel I'm living in another era."

"Me, too."

"It actually sounds like we've got homesteaders living in the area. What bothers me is there's no land available. It's all privately owned. So how are they getting away with it, if that's what they're doing?"

"You think they might have permission to live on the land?"

"Hard to say. They're certainly being evasive. I'm definitely going to find the cabin and talk to them."

"Should you go alone?"

"What danger could I get into by dropping in to say hello?"

Jennifer frowned. “I don't know, but I don't have a good feeling about the venture."

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Hawkman and Jennifer lay in bed, wrapped in each other's arms. He kissed her on the nose. “You're one hot little mama."

She laughed and ran her hand down his chest. “You're not so bad either.” Then she raised up on her elbow. “I want to go with you to find the cabin."

"Is that what you've been thinking about during our love session?"

She grinned. “Not entirely. But what about it?"

"It's not easy riding two on the Polaris."

"We've done it before on the four-wheeler."

"We were on a trail. I'm not sure there's anything but rough terrain where I'm going. What if it proves to be dangerous?"

"If both of us went, we could make it look like we're just making a house call to welcome a new neighbor. As a precaution, I'll carry my gun."

"I don't know, Hon, It rubs against my grain."

"If you go bounding in there alone, you might get shot. With a woman aboard, maybe the person would have a second thought about shooting."

"I want to make it a friendly call. My whole idea is to find the location of this place, then go to the court house and look up who owns the piece of property. I'll contact them, and see if these people are there legally."

"What if they aren't?"

"I'll talk to the sheriff, and let him handle it."

"You think they have electricity?"

"I doubt it. They're probably cooking over the fireplace, which means sparks from the chimney could ignite a forest fire. Could be a dangerous situation."

"Back to the original discussion. Can I go?"

He laughed and pulled her into his arms. “Do I have a choice?"

"Not really.” She snuggled against his neck. “Are we going tomorrow?"

"What are your plans for the day?"

"Staying at home."

"Let's go in the morning. I don't have any pressing business at work. So if we find the place, I'll have time to run to the courthouse; and find out the recorded proprietor."

She yawned. “We better get to sleep. Tomorrow will be a full day, and we probably should get up early."

Wednesday morning, Hawkman and Jennifer donned jeans, boots and carried light jackets over their arms to the kitchen. They had breakfast, then Hawkman slipped on the wind-breaker and strolled to the side yard, where he drove the four-wheeler out from under the lean-to. Jennifer stood at the entry until he stopped in front of her, then she hopped onto the back.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I hope we find the cabin."

He gave her a thumbs-up as he revved up the engine, moved down the driveway and turned west. They rode a couple of miles before Hawkman slowed a bit and studied the road. He shook his head. “I don't see a sign of a road or trail."

Jennifer pointed. “Is that a clearing up ahead?"

He glanced toward the area. “Could be. Let's investigate."

Hawkman brought the four-wheeler to a stop and hopped off. Without a trained eye, the lay person would never spot the bent grass. He dropped down on his haunches and examined the indentations. “It appears thin wheels with a heavy load have been through here."

"Would the mark still show after several days?” Jennifer asked.

"Very possible."

"Could it have been the wagon our neighbor saw?"

"Yes, especially, if the boys ride their bikes through here; and knowing kids, they'd try to stay in the track, making it a game of skill."

He climbed back on the Polaris. “Let's see where it leads."

Turning into the forest, the vehicle climbed through the tall grass with little effort. Hawkman followed the path. At times, the trail grew faint, and he made the decision to keep in the area where openings between the trees were wide enough for a trailer to pass. It seemed they bounced over the terrain for a good thirty minutes before Hawkman crested a hill and brought the four-wheeler to an abrupt halt.

"Why'd you stop?” Jennifer asked.

"I just saw a reflection up ahead in those trees."

"What do you think it is?"

"Could be a gun."

"Maybe we're close to the cabin, and the sun is reflecting off of a window pane."

"I don't think so; it moved. This vehicle is not quiet and I'm sure we can be heard a mile away."

"Are we going to move on?"

"You want to take the chance?"

"If we don't, we'll never find where Randy lives."

"Okay, hold on."

Jennifer quickly grabbed hold of Hawkman as the vehicle jerked forward and bumped over some stones. He continued to slowly follow what he thought to be a faint trail through the trees, which would break out occasionally into an open area, leaving them vulnerable. Hawkman eyed the region where he'd seen the bright flash of light, but saw nothing which could have caused it. This made him more suspicious and wary of their surroundings.

"I can smell food cooking,” Jennifer said.

Hawkman sniffed the air. “Me, too."

Suddenly, a shot rang through the air, and Hawkman maneuvered the four-wheeler behind a big oak tree. “Hit the ground!” he ordered.

Jennifer literally fell off the Polaris. Keeping low, she crawled behind the tree trunk. Hawkman followed suit and rolled in front of her, shielding her from harm.

"Where'd the shot come from?” she asked, nervously.

"Up front. It went over our heads like a warning.” He stood and stepped out in the open.

"Hawkman, be careful,” she whispered, her eyes wide with fear.

He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Who's out there?"

"What are you doing here?” a loud gruff voice boomed from the shadows.

"Taking a ride,” Hawkman answered.

"You're on private land,” the voice said.

"You the owner?"

"No, but I have permission to be here. You don't. So get your butts off the property."

At that moment, Jennifer whirled around when she heard a branch snap. She sucked in her breath as a long haired young man, dressed in worn jeans, tee shirt, and work boots, moved out of the foliage with a rifle aimed at her head.

Raising both hands, she pleaded. “Don't shoot. We mean no harm. We're looking for Randy Hutchinson. Do you know him?"

He lowered the gun. “What you want with Randy? Is he in some sort of trouble?"

"No, not at all. He just told us his family had recently moved into the area. My husband and I thought we'd ride up and welcome them."

Staring at Jennifer, he yelled, “Hey, Dad, they know Randy."

A burly man, with a large brimmed straw hat, carrying a long barreled rifle in one hand, stepped into the light and marched toward Hawkman. Noticing the man's determined gait, Hawkman stood perfectly still, figuring the blast from such a weapon would make a huge hole in your chest.

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When Randy heard the blast from his father's gun, he dropped the tiny airplane he'd made out of a piece of paper, and glanced at his mother who sat at the kitchen table, peeling potatoes over a bucket. His baby sister lay in a handmade cradle by her side. The half-peeled spud in his mother's hand fell into the container as she quickly stood and looked out the window. Randy ran past her, flung open the door and dashed outside.

"Randy, wait,” she called.

Not heeding her words, he took off in the direction of the discharge. He hoped to find a dead buck, which meant meat on the table. Instead, he saw his father step out of the dense brush and walk toward a tall man with a patch over his eye. Randy recognized his new friend, Mr. Casey, and cut back into the brush. He stayed hidden, and quietly moved along just behind the sight of his dad. Randy wanted to yell out and tell him he knew this man, but knew by his father's stubborn gait, he wouldn't be impressed with such news.

The boy had to cut back into the forest due to an open space in the trees, but he kept advancing. Suddenly, he heard his brother talking, and stopped in his tracks when he heard a woman's voice responding. He hunkered down behind a bush, peeked around the edge and there stood Earl, with his rifle pointed at Mrs. Casey's head.

Randy's heart pounded against his ribs so hard it made his chest hurt. “No!” he screamed, as he sprang from his hiding place and dived into his brother head first.

The weapon flew from Earl's hands, crashed to the ground and went off. Randy let out a cry as he crumbled to the ground.

Jennifer stood paralyzed in shock for a few seconds before she realized what had happened. “Oh, my God,” she said, as she raced to the boy's side. “Hawkman, help,” she cried.

Crashing through the brush, Hawkman dashed toward Jennifer, thinking something had happened to her. He found her kneeling over Randy, who lay in a puddle of blood.

"He's been hit in the thigh, and I need to stop the bleeding,” she said.

Hawkman yanked off his belt and wrapped it around the boy's leg above the wound. “We've got to get him to the hospital or he might die. Have you got your cell phone?"

Jennifer reached into her fanny pack. “Yes."

"See if you can get a signal and call 911. Have them send in the helicopter behind the fire station.” Hawkman picked up the boy in his arms, and jogged toward the four-wheeler, with Jennifer at his heels. “You'll have to drive; he's too heavy for you to carry."