The Archer [Book 13 of the Hawkman Series] (8 page)

"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.

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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."

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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.

He turned to the computer, signed into a search site with his secret password and skimmed the database for Roy Summers. A very common handle, so he added archery, and it cut the names by two-thirds. Soon, he found the man he was looking for and read through the information. He flipped on the printer, and made a copy of the details which he thought quite interesting.

Summers was not a native of the area, and had come from the East coast after getting in trouble as a teenager. The article revealed Summers had injured another young man with a bow and arrow. Hawkman didn't want to hold it against him, as young people tend to do stupid things. No charges were filed, and the incident was classified as an accident. Summers had lived in Oregon for twenty years and his record looked clean. His employment had consisted of archery involved jobs. No wonder the man had been classified as an expert. Hawkman decided he'd like to see him in action.

He shut down the computer, then put the printed material into his valise and called it a night.

The next morning, Hawkman arose and tramped to the kitchen. Jennifer sat at the kitchen bar with Miss Marple in her lap, reading a book and sipping a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, my favorite ladies."

Jennifer glanced up and smiled, just as Miss Marple swatted at the book when a page flipped over. The action caused Jennifer to slop the hot brew on the counter as she grabbed the paperback to keep it from falling. “Oh, you little rascal. I think you better get down."

The cat jumped to the floor as Hawkman laughed and handed his wife a paper towel to sop up the mess. “You ought to know better than hold her while drinking coffee."

"You'd think I'd learn, but when she looks up at me with those soulful eyes, my heart melts."

"Have you had breakfast?” he asked, pouring himself a mug.

"No. You want me to fix some eggs and toast?"

"I'd love it, but it can't take too long. I've got to roll."

"There's bacon already fried in the refrigerator, so if you'll get that out and zap it in the microwave, we could have a feast fit for a king."

"I can do that. I'll go get dressed while you're fixing the eggs. By the way, don't let me forget the GPS tracker,” he said, pointing at the gadget on the counter.

Hawkman soon came out dressed, put the bacon in the microwave, gathered up the GPS and put it in his valise. Within a few minutes they sat down to a hearty meal. Soon, Hawkman rose and patted his stomach. “Thank you my dear wife, it was delicious."

Jennifer grinned. “Hopefully it will stay with you long enough so you won't be tempted by Clyde's pastries."

He laughed. “At least during the morning hours."

She threw a tea towel at him. “Get to work, you stinker,"

Catching the cloth in his hands, he put it around her neck and pulled her toward him. Giving her a passionate kiss, he shook his head. “Got to get out of here, or I'll end up taking you back to bed, and then I won't get any work done today."

She gazed up at him. “Too bad you're on a deadline."

"Thanks for the reminder.” He released his arms from around her, put on his jacket, grabbed his briefcase and headed out the door.

The brisk cool air forced the passionate mood from his mind. The snow had melted but the temperature still chilled his being. He hopped into his vehicle and headed across the bridge. Driving toward Medford, Hawkman planned his day; his first stop would be at the sports shop where Roy Summers worked.

When he reached the main street, he again turned down the alley, and parked in the warehouse area. This time, he found the back entry unlocked. He reached Summers’ office only to find a sign taped to the door that read, ‘Class begins at nine sharp. Meet you at the range.'

Hawkman glanced around the large storage room and spotted a worker.

"Sir, could you tell me the archery range where I'd find Mr. Summers?"

"Sorry, sir. I have no idea. You'll have to ask someone upfront."

Hawkman gave him a nod and proceeded into the retail area through the large swinging doors. He caught one of the cashiers with no line of customers. The man told him the range was called ‘Arrow Point', about a mile outside of town, and gave him instructions on how to get there.

"Thanks,” Hawkman said.

He headed back to his vehicle, and pulled onto the main street. The directions were clear, and he remembered seeing it from the road, but had never paid a whole lot of attention to the grounds. It didn't take him ten minutes before he drove under an arch that had ‘Arrow Point’ carved in steel letters across the top with a metal arrow angled across the lettering. He parked beside a long building which he assumed was the indoor range. The outdoor practice field looked deserted, probably due to the brisk cold wind.

Hawkman entered the building, picked up a brochure from a table, then stood back

and listened as Roy Summers lectured a class of approximately fifteen adults. He talked about the procedures and rules of archery. Hawkman had the feeling these were beginners. He glanced at the flyer in his hand and flipped it open where he discovered the scheduled classes. It appeared Friday and Saturday were the heaviest days. Each period lasted about an hour and a half, then a group of intermediate students came in at eleven until twelve-thirty, then they had a break until two and the schedule showed the last lesson ended at nine in the evening. Hawkman figured the Saturday class consisted of youths, as school was in session. Mr. Summers definitely put in a long day.

When the group rose from their chairs and headed toward the range, Hawkman noticed they filed behind lines drawn on the floor, two and three abreast. They each held a bow and a quiver full of arrows. He'd already heard Summers tell the group they were not to remove a shaft until instructed to do so.

Hawkman knew he wouldn't have a chance to talk to the instructor today. The man had a tight schedule, with little time in between groups. He took a couple of the flyers and decided to leave. When he went to the front alcove, a young man had come in and occupied the chair behind the desk.

"Hello,” Hawkman said.

The lad glanced up from sorting schedules. “Yes sir, can I help you."

"I hope so. I see Mr. Summers is teaching right now, so I didn't have a chance to approach him. Are these private lessons going on right now?"

"Not really. On Friday the classes are filled with customers from the sports store. Depending on how much equipment they purchased, they get anywhere from one to three free lessons. Saturday and Sunday are usually the youth groups. Mr. Summers fills his private classes on other days of the week. You'd have to contact him to find out if he has any openings.” He pointed to the flyers in Hawkman's hand. “I see you've picked up some of the literature. Mr. Summers’ phone number will be in both of those."