The Archer [Book 13 of the Hawkman Series] (4 page)

"I sure will, Mr. Casey."

Olly and Hawkman drove back to the big house and as they walked toward the dwelling from the lean-to, Hawkman said. “Your men seem okay. Whenever you feel ready, you can tell them it's Laura we're concerned about. It might make them pay more attention."

"I'm glad you feel that way. I'd trust either of them with my life."

"Before I leave, I'd like to speak with Laura."

"Sure. You want to come in or shall I have her meet with you out here?"

"I better get on my way, as I'm sure it's getting close to your dinner time. Just have her step outside. I'll only keep her a moment."

Olly disappeared into the house and within a few seconds, Laura stepped out the back door.

"Yes, Mr. Casey, what did you want to see me about?"

"I'm sure you have a computer. Do you ever get e-mails from strange people?"

"Sometimes, but I figure they're spam, so I just delete them."

"Without putting your computer in jeopardy, don't open an attachment, but print anything out that appears weird like someone writing you a message. Then bring it to me to see."

"I'll do it."

"I'll be talking to you in the next few days. Be very aware of people around you until we can figure out who's bugging you."

"Don't worry, I will."

"One of these days, I'll go with you to your classes at the college."

Laura grinned. “Really?"

"Why do you find that funny?"

"I can just imagine what the girls will say."

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Hawkman left Laura's home, and headed back to town. He decided to stop by the office to pick up any mail and lock up for the night. When he arrived, he parked in the alley and jogged up the stairs. The reflection off the metal door caught his eye as it showed a dent in the surface. He ran his hand over it and wondered what had caused such a deep indentation. Retracing his steps, he studied the ground for a large rock or metal pipe that could cause the damage. Not seeing anything nearby, he glanced above the stairwell and caught a glimpse of something protruding from the eave. He trotted back up the stairs and fortunately, being tall, grabbed hold of what looked like the feathered end of an arrow. It took him several minutes to work it out, and once he twisted it free, he took it inside under the light. After examining the shaft, he came to the conclusion it was made from aluminum or carbon/graphite, and must have come from a compound bow.

"Why would anyone be shooting one of those powerful things in town?” he grumbled, turning it over in his hand.

He placed the arrow on the desk, then picked up the mail which had been slid into the door slot. His finger caught on a tattered sheet of cardboard at the bottom of the pile. He pulled it out by the corner and a large hole was ripped in the middle, but written in bold black letters, circling the hole, were the words, ‘STAY AWAY FROM MY GIRL'. Taking the arrow from the desk, Hawkman figured he'd ruined any fingerprints that might be on it when he had to force it out of the wood. Holding the paper by the very edge, he put the point through the hole and it fit, except for the couple of small torn places. So he assumed when the arrow didn't stick in the door, the note fell off, and the perpetrator shoved it into the mail slot. He probably didn't even look for the arrow and left in haste.

Hawkman carefully placed the note on the desk, opened the small cabinet above the filing cabinet and removed the fingerprint set. He dusted the matte paper, but found nothing. The guy probably wore gloves.

He sat down and pulled the file he'd started for Laura toward him, took a yellow legal pad and noted the first clue. Hawkman imagined this guy to be a hunter or a bow and arrow enthusiast. Now, he at least had a clue to pursue.

The thought of this man with such a weapon in his possession sent a shudder down Hawkman's spine, and put fear into his heart for Laura's and her parents’ safety. He'd hunted with a couple of his friends who used the compound bow. The velocity of the arrow will go straight through a deer and land on the ground opposite the prey. It's a powerful weapon and the arrow can travel quite a distance. A person wouldn't have to be close to his victim to inflict terrible injury. Since Hawkman didn't know a lot about this sport, he jotted a reminder to contact one of his hunting friends and ask some questions.

The arrow wouldn't fit into his briefcase, but he remembered he'd saved a cardboard tube which a map had come in. Finding it in the corner of the room, behind the filing cabinet, he taped one end shut, and slid the arrow inside. He placed the note into the valise and opened the office door. When he stepped into the dark evening, he scrutinized the area for any strange pickups or cars. Seeing none, he breathed a sigh of relief, and headed for his vehicle. He figured for the guy to shoot the arrow into his door, he had to come down the alley and use the weapon at a fairly close range. Otherwise, too many obstacles stood in the way for him to get a good shot.

Traveling down the freeway, he kept his eye on the rearview mirror, just in case. He also pondered how he'd ask Laura about any of her male friends who liked archery. Being a farm girl, she might know about guys who enjoyed hunting with bows and arrows, or heard about them through her girlfriends. He'd also ask her dad and his hired hands.

When Hawkman arrived home, he found Jennifer at her computer and she seemed extremely focused. Her fingers were flying across the keyboard at a high rate of speed, and he could tell by her intense expression, it would be best not to interrupt her. Their feisty cat, Miss Marple, twined around his legs and meowed in a begging tone.

Hawkman placed his briefcase and the cardboard tube on the counter, then picked up the feline. “What's the matter, little girl, are you being neglected?"

Jennifer glanced his way and smiled. “Yes, she's being ignored. I'll be through in a few minutes."

"No hurry, I'll go play with our mistreated pet."

Jennifer shook her head. “Right."

Hawkman picked up the ragged stuffed toy, which no longer resembled the original form of a rabbit, and had Miss Marple in her glory for several minutes before Jennifer finished her project.

"Done with chapter eight,” she said, rising from the computer. “I had a brain storm earlier about what I wanted to do and thought I'd better get it down on paper before I forgot."

He studied the worn out toy in his hand. “Why don't you get Miss Marple a new rabbit?"

"She has at least six new ones in her animal box, but that's the one she always drags out."

"Maybe you should hide this one and let her get used to a more decent looking toy."

"Tried. It didn't work; she followed me around crying for the old rabbit."

"Wonder what she'll do when there's nothing left of this poor thing?"

"Time will tell,” she said, walking over to the counter and pointed at the cardboard tube. “What's this?"

"You won't believe what happened to me today. I think I just got my first clue on who's harassing Laura."

She peered down into the open hole, then shook the arrow out into her hand. “Wow, this is one wicked looking weapon."

Hawkman tossed the limp rabbit to the cat and joined Jennifer at the bar. “I found it stuck in the eave above my office door, and a note crammed in my mail slot."

She glanced at him wide eyed. “Really? Tell me about it."

Hawkman related the incident to her. “He could be a very dangerous man."

"Or a very stupid one, shooting that arrow into your building. If it had ricocheted differently, it could have hit an innocent person. Many people go down the alley near your office."

He sat down on one of the bar stools and fingered the arrow. “Fortunately, it didn't go awry. I think he's trying to scare me off with this statement."

Jennifer looked at him. “He sure doesn't know you. This will only make you go after him harder."

He smiled. “You have me figured out pretty well, don't you?"

She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I should. Lived with you a long time."

He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “I think you can read me better than I can read you."

She laughed. “More than likely.” Pushing away from his embrace, she picked up the arrow again and turned it over in her hand. “This didn't come from an old fashioned bow. Its shaft is made of aluminum or another strong metal. Bet this came from either a compound or crossbow."

"I'm going to talk to Matt or Phil; they both hunt with bows. They should be able to give me a little insight."

"Good idea. You said a note was in your mail. What did it say?"

He pointed toward his briefcase. “Push that over here and I'll show you."

She shoved it toward him. He opened the valise, and removed the note he'd put inside a clear plastic bag. “This struck me as odd, since Laura swears she doesn't have a boyfriend."

Jennifer studied it through the film. “I'd say he's wishfully thinking she'll be his soon. From the way he's going about it, I'd say he doesn't care if it's against her will or not. I definitely think he's dangerous."

"I agree. At least her parents are aware of someone harassing her, and Olly will probably clue in his two hired hands. The more eyes we have looking out for Laura, the better."

"Do you think she's one who will take chances?"

"I don't feel so, but I could be wrong. She's scared right now, and I've only seen her in this stressed mode. Once this eases, I'm not sure."

"Well, you better keep her frightened; it could save her life."

"How do you suggest I do this?"

She picked up the arrow. “Show this to her and her parents along with the note. Then explain what a dangerous weapon he has in his possession."

"If I tell her dad, I'm afraid he won't let her out of the house, and I do want them to go about their normal lives. I'd like this guy to reveal himself soon, but he won't if she doesn't show herself."

"I understand your point, but they should all know what they're facing.” She shoved the arrow back into the cardboard roll, then threw up her hands. “Looks like you've got a few decisions to make."

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When Hawkman heard the whistle of the wind whipping around the house, he left the bar stool, and stepped outside on the back deck to check the aviary that housed his pet falcon, Pretty Girl. As he threw back the clear covering that protected her from the cold and wind, but still let in plenty of light, she flapped her wings and squawked a greeting.

"Hello, my pretty bird. I know you'd like to go hunting, but it's too late, and it's mighty cold. Maybe in a day or two."

He gave her fresh water and food, then made sure the cage cover wouldn't be blown off by the high gusts. Coming back inside, he shivered. “Man, it's nippy out there."

"I'm ready for spring,” Jennifer said, stoking the fireplace. “I'm getting eager to go fishing."

"You have a few months to go before it's warm enough to be out on the dock."

"I know, and I hate the time change. It gets dark so early I can't even enjoy a lovely sunset."

"I'm heading back to my office. I want to make a couple of phone calls before it gets late.” He glanced around the room. “Where's Miss Marple?"

Jennifer pointed toward the corner where the cat lay curled into a furry ball. “She's discovered the throw I had folded on the corner of the hearth, and took quite a liking to it. So guess she's put her claim on it now."

Hawkman grinned and continued to the back of the house. Once behind the desk, he flipped the rolodex until he came to Matt Reynolds’ name, punched in the number and pushed on the speaker phone.

"Hello, Matt Reynolds speaking."

"Hi, Matt, Hawkman here."

"Hey, guy, long time no hear from you. Done any hunting lately?"

"No, missed out on getting a deer tag this year. They were bought up before I applied. How about you?"

"I went, but didn't have any luck."

"You still using a bow?"

"Oh, yeah, it gets in your blood and is such a challenge. I plan on trying it at pheasant hunting this season."

"I'm calling to ask about a compound bow."

"You thinking about getting one?"

"Not at the moment, but I'm working on a case where I think a guy is using that type of bow for scare tactics."

"Bad news. It's a dangerous weapon."

"Should a person have lessons before using it?"

"Definitely."

"Where would he go?"

"Here in Medford?"

"Or nearby."

"There are several great places. Usually any of the big hunting supply stores offers classes, or can direct a person to an instructor. Also there are several archery ranges in the area for practice. It has become quite a popular sport."

"Is there any way you could calculate the size of the person by one of his arrows?"

"I don't think so. The arrow size is determined by the bow system."

"Won't keep you any longer. Sure appreciate your help."

"Good luck on finding the scoundrel."

"Thanks. Good luck on getting a pheasant."

After hanging up, Hawkman glanced at the notes he'd taken. They didn't tell him much, and he sure didn't feel any closer to finding out who was shooting arrows at his office door.

Wednesday morning, Hawkman awoke fresh and ready to pursue the case. He headed for Medford after having an early breakfast with Jennifer. Parking in the alley, he'd just climbed out of his 4X4 with his briefcase and arrow in the cardboard roll, when Clyde, the baker, drove up to his spot behind the donut shop. He jumped out of his faded blue Ford Taurus and waved.

"Hey, Mr. Casey, I hoped to catch you sometime today."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I wanted to ask if you were in your office yesterday from noon until about four."

"No, I was with a client, and didn't get back until after five. Why?"

"I heard this loud bang like something bouncing off metal. So I dashed to the back, thinking someone had hit my car."

Hawkman's ears perked. “Did you find out what made the noise?"

"No. My car didn't have a dent in it. That's why I thought it weird. It sure sounded like it came right from inside or behind the building.” He pointed toward the end of the alley. “The only thing I noticed was a black pickup turning the corner onto the street. It must have backfired. You don't hear that happening much anymore, but it's the only thing I could figure. Other than maybe your coffee urn blew up."