In for the Kill [Hawkman Series Book 9] (23 page)

Making a slow pass, Ray took out his night binoculars and studied the rear side of the house . “Just as I thought, the back deck is wood. Perfect. All you'll have to do is glide as close to his dock as you can, then I'll see if my pitching arm is still as good as it used to be."

Hawkman opened his eyes and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “It's only two in the morning. What woke me?” he muttered. He lay there a moment and swore he could hear the low rumble of a motor. Getting up, he crossed the room to the sliding glass door, and pulled back the corner of the drape. In the moonlight, he spotted a boat puttering toward the bridge. Dropping the curtain, he made his way back to bed.

Jennifer sat up when he flopped onto the mattress. “What's wrong?"

"Nothing,” he said, crawling beneath the covers. “Looks like someone's out on the lake fishing for catfish."

"I love the sport, but not at two in the morning. He must be some dedicated fisherman.” She yawned, lay back down, and rolled to her side, pulling the comforter up to her shoulders.

Jack and Ray made a turn around the pillars of the bridge and glided toward the back of Tom Casey's house. Ray removed one of the small bottles of gasoline and sugar he'd previously mixed. Taking off the cap, he inserted a rag into the narrow opening.

"Are you ready,” Jack said, pulling up close to Hawkman's dock.

"Yep.” Ray took a cigarette lighter from his pocket, ignited the cloth, stood up and heaved the Molotov cocktail straight for the wooden porch. It hit with a crash and flames leaped across the back of the house. “Perfect. Now, let's get the hell out of here."

Jack turned the boat around and threw the engine into full throttle. The front end leaped out of the water as he sped toward the bridge. They were out of sight within seconds.

Meowing loudly, Miss Marple jumped upon the bed, and bounced from Jennifer to Hawkman. Both awoke with a start. When they spotted the orange glow coming through their bedroom glass door and smelled smoke, they leaped out of bed.

"Fire! get out quick,” Hawkman yelled. He yanked open the window above his head so their alarm would sound. Running into the kitchen, he grabbed a tee towel off the counter, wet it, and held it to his face as he dashed to the slider in the dining room. He shoved it open and raced to the falcon's cage. She squawked with fear as flames sprang up eating around the edges of the wooden porch and licked at the bottom of the aviary. Not having the key to the lock, Hawkman wrenched off the flimsy latch with his bare hands and flung open the door. Hopping around to keep his feet from burning, he waved his hand and yelled. “Hurry up, Pretty Girl, take flight!"

The bird flapped her wings, brushed past him, and flew upward out of the smoke. He could hear the alarm singing above the crackling of the fire as he hurried back inside and closed the slider behind him. Racing toward the front door, still holding the towel to his nose, he grabbed a pair of boots he'd left in the hallway, and fled outside. He dropped the damp cloth from his face and coughed several times.

Jennifer had run across the street and set off the firehouse alarm. The wailing sirens, pierced the serenity of the night. She hurried toward Hawkman, and grabbed his arm. “Are you okay?, she asked, her voice quivering.

"Yeah."

"Where'd you go? It scared me when you didn't follow me out."

"I had to release Pretty Girl, or she'd have burned up. We can't waste any more time or we're going to lose everything."

He pulled on the boots, dashed to the side of the house and yanked the hose from under the porch. Turning on the spigot full bore, he sprayed the flames. Jennifer dragged the one from the front lawn around to the opposite side and aimed water onto the orange blaze licking up the west side of the porch. In only minutes, what seemed like hours, the volunteer firemen showed up in their yard. They drove the tanker trunk up into the lot next door and as close to the burning structure as possible Using much larger hoses, the men stepped close to Hawkman and began dousing the burning house. Soon, they searched the underneath side of the porch and the outside walls looking for hot spots, then announced the fire was extinguished.

Jennifer stood in shock as she stared at the charred back of her beloved home. Tears ran down her soot covered cheeks. She dropped the hose, covered her face and sobbed. The volunteer nurse, who'd accompanied the firefighters, put an arm around Jennifer's shoulders, and guided her to the front yard.

One of the volunteers strolled over to Hawkman and held up a plastic bag containing a partially melted bottle. “Mr. Casey, I think someone tried to burn your house down with a Molotov cocktail."

About that time, Ken and Peggy hurried around the corner of the house. Ken held out his hand. “I'll take it to the lab."

Hawkman narrowed his eyes and glared at the grotesquely shaped glass.

"Where's Jennifer?” Peggy asked.

Hawkman stared at her as if coming out of a trance. He left the group and rushed around to the front where he found the nurse holding his wife in her arms. Pulling Jennifer to his chest, he hugged her tightly. “Honey, we'll get everything fixed. It'll be good as new or better."

She looked up at him. “If it hadn't been for Miss Marple, we could have died from smoke inhalation.” Suddenly, she pushed away. “Where is she?” Jennifer dashed for the front door, with Hawkman at her heels. They ran through the smoke filled house and into the bedroom, softly calling their pet's name. Searching under the bed, the closets and in the bathroom, Jennifer finally turned toward Hawkman, her eyes welled with tears. “She's not here."

"She's bound to be in the house somewhere. Let's keep looking."

"What if she couldn't get enough air and died."

"Remember, she's low to the ground. If anyone could find fresh air, she could."

They searched every nook and cranny to no avail.

Jennifer, wringing her hands, paced the floor. “Could she somehow have managed to get outside?"

"It's possible.” He pointed at the slider. “See how the frame buckled and part of the glass fell away. She could have definitely escaped through it."

"But she could die in the jaws of a predator."

Hawkman put an arm around her shoulders. “Try not to think about it. Hopefully, she'll turn up. If not, we'll get another kitten."

She wiped her eyes. “There'll never be a replacement for Miss Marple."

He gave her a squeeze, then went outside to thank the firemen.

After the fire crew left, Hawkman and Jennifer opened up the house to see if they could get rid of the intense smell of burned wood. Streaks of sunlight penetrated the sky, and Hawkman could feel the light aggravating his vision. He went back to the bedroom, slipped on a pair of jeans, and found his eye-patch on the floor where he'd knocked it off the bedside table in his haste to flee. All his clothes reeked of smoke.

Coming back into the living room, he ventured out on the deck, and stepped lightly, testing the remaining boards to see if they'd hold his weight. The fireman had pulled down the plastic overhead awning and stacked the twisted debris in a pile. The black wrought iron railing curled in agony. The falcon's home had disappeared.

Hawkman let out an audible sigh and gazed heavenward. “Where are you, Pretty Girl? Did you decide, after such a scare, to leave forever?” He strolled down the unburned steps, walked to the center of the side yard and whistled.

Jennifer stood at the dining room window hugging herself, and watched him through the hazy glass. “Oh, Hawkman how could I be so selfish. You've lost your wonderful pet too."

He stood several moments searching the heavens, then with slumped shoulders entered the house through the laundry room door.

"If Pretty Girl comes home before we get the back deck repaired and a new aviary built, I'm going to have to figure out a new place for her.

Jennifer took a deep breath. “We can't put her in the house if Miss Marple shows up."

"I thought maybe the guest room, if we make sure to keep the door secured at all times. Your feisty little kitten doesn't usually go in there. She likes to hang out wherever we are."

"I'm not so sure we're going to be able to stay in this house for a few nights, it smells ghastly."

Hawkman scratched his sideburn. “Yeah, it stinks pretty bad. But we need to try and stand it, because if we're not here when Miss Marple or Pretty Girl come back, they'll figure in their little pea brains we're gone and then they'll leave."

Jennifer nodded. “You're right. If we keep airing out the house, it'll help and I'll get busy cleaning. I'm afraid we're going to have to replace a lot of stuff."

He scowled. “Before I can help with any of the clean up or build a new cage for Pretty Girl, I'm going to find Jack and Ray."

Jennifer searched his face. “You're not going to try and do it on your own, are you?"

"No. Ken told me he'd be by sometime today, after he's talked with his department."

"I think we've got these guys on a pretty stiff charge. Not only arson, but attempted murder."

Jack drove the boat up to the number one fishing access and the two men hopped out and dragged it up partially onto the dirt. “That'll hold until someone discovers it, which might not be until late this afternoon when the groups of rafters come down the Klamath River."

Ray slung the backpack over his shoulder, then stopped a moment and glanced toward the lake. “I can hear more than one siren going off.” He turned abruptly and climbed up the embankment.

Jack followed. “Just remember, the siren's calling in the volunteers, so watch for vehicles on the road. Get across as fast as you can."

Jack jogged past Ray as he crested the knoll.

"Slow down, Dad, I can't keep up with you.

He cut his pace down to a fast walk, and the men didn't stop until they were hidden from view. They arrived at their campsite within an hour, crawled into the camper and fell into a sound sleep.

Late the next morning, Jack climbed out of the truck and searched the horizon. Seeing no helicopters or search planes, he carried the small camp stove to the boulder near the creek, balanced it on the flat surface and proceeded to heat water so he could make coffee.

Ray crawled out of the sack and joined Jack at the water's edge. “Well, I wonder how much damage we did. Do you think we got them in the fire?"

Jack shrugged. “Hard to say. That house has a tile roof and aluminum siding, it wouldn't burn easily. About the only thing we can hope for is Casey died of smoke inhalation. Regardless, I think we better flee this area, because the whole law enforcement clan will be hunting for us."

Ray chuckled. “No way are we leaving until I know the mission has been accomplished."

Jack moved to the back of the truck and pulled out some of the food. “About time for a bite to eat. How about a packet of instant oats in water?"

"Sounds good to me."

Rummaging in his backpack, Jack pulled out his cooking gear and separated two metal army bowls, then found a couple of plastic spoons. He handed one to Ray. “Don't throw the spoon away, we're running low on utensils."

As the men ate, Ray glanced at his dad. “That truck have a radio?"

Jack knitted his brow. “You mean just a regular AM, FM?"

"Yeah."

"I think so, but not sure it works. Why?"

Ray grinned. “I'd like to hear the local news. It might tell us if the famous Tom Casey met his death in a house fire last night."

Jack handed him the keys. “You can try, but don't leave it on too long and run down the battery. And you sure don't want to start up the pickup, and use excess fuel."

Ray carried his bowl and went to the truck. He opened the door and slid into the passenger side. He punched the radio button, then turned the knob to accessories, but heard nothing. After fiddling with the dial for several minutes, he gave up, turned it off and closed the door. Shaking his head, he walked back to the boulder, and pitched the keys to Jack. “Naw, it doesn't work. Should have noticed, the antenna's been knocked off. Guess we're going to have to sneak back down there and take a peek."

Jack let out a sigh. “Don't you think you've done enough? Let's just get out of here while we can. Before we end up in a casket."

Ray set his breakfast on the rock and stared at Jack. “Look, Dad, if you don't want to stick with me on this, go ahead and take off. But I'm staying. I'm going to kill Tom Casey."

Silently, Jack walked down to the creek, rinsed out his bowl, and checked the items he'd placed in the cloth sack to stay cool. “We've got enough food to last a few more days. Guess I'm staying."

Sidling in next to his dad, Ray gave him a slap on the back. “Great, because I need your help."

Ken Bronson pulled his Tahoe into Hawkman's driveway and jumped out.

Hawkman met him at the door. “Come on in. Doesn't look like you slept much either."

"Not with this job.” Ken stepped into the living room and glanced around the walls. “How much got destroyed?"

"Quite a bit. The whole back side of the house is going to have to be rebuilt and I'm sure there's some furniture we're going to have to replace, unless we can get the stench out."

Jennifer walked through carrying a load of washing. “Hi, Ken."

"I'm really sorry so much damage occurred. At least, you two are safe."

She stopped at the door of the laundry room. “Pretty Girl, and Miss Marple are missing. We're hoping they're both alive."

"If you haven't found their carcasses, they're probably just hiding. Fire really scares animals."

"We're keeping our fingers crossed they'll show up."

Ken nodded and directed his attention to Hawkman. “I'm here to tell you there were no fingerprints on the bottle the firemen discovered, which is par for the course when a fire is involved, but it definitely contained a Molotov Cocktail. Remnants of gasoline and sugar were found on the inside, plus threads of burnt cloth. We also had a report of a stolen ski boat, but found it at the number one fishing access. No damage and also no fingerprints. Our guys must have worn gloves."