Smoothing out the page, she tucked it inside her checkbook. “Next time I'll know exactly where I put it.” She set the bag beside her. “You better get down to the emergency room and find out about Mr. Casey. Ask Jennifer if she'd please let me know his condition."
“I'll have her come up as soon as she can. You take care and stay alert.” He patted the metal foot of her bed and headed out the door.
* * *
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Detective Williams joined Jennifer in the emergency waiting room. “Heard anything?"
“He's conscious and wanting to get out of here. But the doctor insisted on doing a CT scan on his head, but he doesn't think there's any brain damage. He felt whatever hit him was deflected and Hawkman didn't get the full impact. However, he did need a few stitches."
“His hat might have saved him, it took a beating. It had a big gouge in the back. I found it at the scene and turned it over to my officers. Maybe we can find out the type of weapon used."
Jennifer grew silent for a moment, gnawing on her lower lip.
The detective studied her expression. “Okay, what's going on in your mind? You're as bad as your husband. I can hear the wheels grinding."
She grinned. “That's a nice compliment. If you really want to know my thoughts, I'm not only concerned about Rita, but also Marie Paulson."
He frowned. “Hawkman mentioned a Marie, but didn't elaborate. What does she have to do with this guy?"
Jennifer explained about the kitten and how Marie might be the next victim. “She's recently widowed and has three little girls. I haven't had a chance to talk to her, but Hawkman assured me he'd made her aware of the danger."
Williams scratched his head. “How many others are involved in this mess?"
“I don't think there's anyone else. But it might be wise if you stationed a guard outside Rita's room for the night."
He glanced toward the ceiling. “Yeah, that's a good idea. It certainly can't hurt and this is about the only thing brewing tonight.” He stood. “I think I'll take off and get some business done. If Hawkman has a turn for the worse, just give me a call on the cell. I'll assign an officer to stay here, then I'm going to find out who owns the rental car place. I think it's time to start getting some answers."
She nodded. “You know my husband; he won't be staying here for the night if he has anything to do with it. And will more than likely be contacting you first thing in the morning."
“I'll be expecting his call.” Williams waved and walked out the door.
* * * *
The detective pulled up the collar of his coat as he stepped from underneath the awning of the hospital entry. Torrents of rain overwhelmed the gutters and drains making large puddles in the parking lot. He splashed through a couple, and felt the water soaking through his shoes and socks. Shivering from the plunge in temperature, he jumped into his car and turned on the heater. Rubbing and blowing on his hands to warm up, he finally backed out of the space. A small tree limb, propelled by the high wind, bounced across his windshield as he bumped out of the exit. “What a night,” he mumbled, turning onto the asphalt.
He called the station and made arrangements for one of the officers to stand guard outside Ms. Rawlings’ room for the night. Driving slowly down the street of the car rental agency, he didn't expect to find anyone there at this hour, but remembered people turned cars in late at night. Since this guy sideswiped a vehicle, there'd be dents and he probably wouldn't want to face the owner. So maybe he parked it in the lot after hours.
The detective stopped in front of the building,and left the motor running. He squinted through the rain splattered windshield, and could make out a driveway alongside the building. He turned in, but came to a sudden stop when he spotted a body lying in the middle of the wet pavement. Leaping from the car, he dashed to the person's side and immediately tapped in 911 on his cell. He felt for a pulse just as the man groaned and tried to move. “Stay still, fellow."
The man's eyelids flickered open and he stared at Williams. “Who are you?” he whispered.
“I'm Detective Williams and help is on the way."
“You gotta catch that guy; he brought in a damaged car,” he said, pointing toward a bronze Buick. “He slugged me when I told him he couldn't leave until he talked to the boss."
“What's your name?” Williams asked.
“Fred Baxter. I'm the night watchman for several of these buildings and had just started my walk through of this place when this guy drove in. I immediately saw the damage to the side of the car and told him I'd better call Mr. Fielding."
The emergency vehicle swerved in and the paramedics jumped out. “Hey, detective, you're keeping us busy tonight,” one of the men said, pushing the gurney toward the victim.
Williams stepped aside so they could examine Fred. The rain had stopped for the moment, but thunder could be heard in the distance.
“What's his condition?” the detective asked.
“His vitals are fine. We'll take him in and have him checked by the doctor."
“Let me ask Mr. Baxter a couple more questions before you roll out of here.” Williams stepped up to the rear of the vehicle. “You want me to call anyone?"
“Naw, I have my cell phone. I'll call my wife. It won't scare her if she hears my voice."
“Do you have a phone number for Mr. Fielding?"
“Yeah, I know it by heart.” He rattled it off and Williams wrote it down.
“I'll want to ask you more questions. Where can I reach you?"
Fred gave another number. “That's my cell and I always have it with me."
“Thanks.” Williams moved back and gestured for the paramedics to close the door. “Okay, boys, take him away."
After the ambulance left, the detective retrieved his flashlight out of the car, then strolled over to the Buick and examined the marks on the side of the vehicle. It definitely had hit something, and the color left on the metal appeared close to the same shade as Ms. Rawlings car. He took out his cell phone and punched in the digits of the manager.
“Mr. Fielding, this is Detective Williams of the Medford Police. I'm at your place of business and discovered your night watchman has been attacked. The ambulance has taken him to the hospital, but I think he'll be fine. He talked to me about a man who'd returned a damaged vehicle. When he told him he needed to contact you, the assailant slugged him. I'd like for you to come down here and give me the information on who rented this Buick. I'll be waiting."
Williams climbed back into his car, turned on the engine and flipped the heater to medium. He'd stood outside, enduring the cold temperature with his damp clothes clinging to his body until he felt chilled to the bone. The warm air felt good and he hoped it would partially dry his shoes and socks. His feet felt like two big cubes of ice.
Fifteen minutes passed before a late model, white Cadillac sedan pulled into the driveway and parked beside him. A short, obese man struggled out of the driver's seat and hobbled over to his car.
“Detective Williams?"
“Yes."
“Let's go inside the building so I can get the paperwork.” He turned and pointed a stubby finger at the Buick. “Is that the one we're talking about?"
Williams climbed out and followed him. “Yes."
Mr. Fielding unlocked the back door, reached in and flipped on an outside light which illuminated the area. He quickly strolled around the Buick, surveying it with a sharp eye, grumbling as he examined the bent metal. “It's heavily damaged. I'll need to contact the man and my insurance agent."
The rain started to come down heavier, and they hurried inside the rental office. The manager slipped on a pair of reading glasses. “Would you be so kind as to show me your credentials?"
“Sure.” The detective flipped open his badge and the man studied it for a few seconds, then went straight to the corner filing cabinet behind the counter. He sorted through some folders, and eventually retrieved one. “Here it is.” Removing a couple of pieces of paper, he placed them o
n the surface. “This is the information we took from his driver's license."
Williams glanced at the sheets. “Do you have a scanner?"
“Yes."
“Could you make me a copy, please? Did you rent the car to this man?"
Fielding shook his head as he placed them on the copier. “No, I just overlook the business. I'm seldom here.” Glancing at part of the invoice, he pointed at a line. “Charles rented it to him and he's on vacation right now. He'll be back in about three days."
Williams studied the report once Fielding handed it over. Fortunately, the driver's license picture had come out bright and clear.
* * *
CHAPTER TWELVE
Detective Williams studied the address on the license. “I see Mr. Hargrove is from out of state. Did he mention why he was in Oregon?"
“I couldn't say; you'd have to ask Charles."
He waved a hand. “That's right. You weren't here."
“If you'll wait a minute, I'll see if I can get hold of Mr. Hargrove at the motel where he's staying."
“Good idea."
Fielding opened the phone book to the yellow pages, held the receiver between his fat chin and shoulder, then punched in numbers as his finger tapped across the page. “Please ring Mr. J. Hargrove's room.” His eyebrows rose. “I see. Did he leave a forwarding address?"
He hung up and glanced at Williams. “He checked out about two hours ago, and didn't leave any information on how he could be reached."
Williams turned toward the door. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Fielding. If I find this man, I'll let you know. I have a feeling he's left you with a big bill. But I'm going to ask you not to have the car repaired until I have my lab crew go over it."
“I understand. I won't send the automobile into the shop until I get your okay.” A slight grin curled the corners of his mouth as he held up one of the sheets. “I do have Mr. Hargrove's credit card number, so he might get a little surprise on his statement."
The detective stepped into the peppering rain, stashed the report under his jacket, and dashed to his car. Once inside the vehicle, he twisted the key in the ignition, then checked the name of the motel and drove into the street. He entered the driveway of the establishment, and parked under the large fancy overhang. When he approached the plush front desk, he flashed his badge and asked to see the manager.
Williams spoke with him for several minutes, but received no more information. Back in the car, he wondered if Hargrove had left the area. Since he'd be on foot, he'd more than likely take a taxi to his destination. The detective called one of his officers and instructed him to check the taxicab businesses and the bus station while he inquired at the airport.
After several hours of studying each airline's passenger list, and finding nothing suspicious, he made copies of the pictured license and distributed them to the attendants in case Hargrove tried to board on a ‘standby’ status. He talked with his officers after he'd finished and they'd also come up empty handed. It appeared the man had disappeared into thin air. “Where the hell has he gone?” he mumbled, getting into his vehicle.
He'd done all he could today, and the hour approached midnight. Rubbing the back of his neck, his thoughts went to Hawkman. More than likely Jennifer had him home and tucked into bed by now. Williams chuckled to himself, as he pictured his friend's resistance.
* * * *
At the hospital, Hawkman slowly walked into the waiting room. Jennifer jumped up and went to his side. “Have they dismissed you?"
The doctor, who'd followed him out, interrupted. “He doesn't have a concussion, only a bad lump on the head and a few stitches. But I want him home in bed as soon as you can get him there. A couple days’ rest and he should be as good as new.” He handed Jennifer a prescription. “This is for pain pills, if he needs them."
Jennifer tucked it into her purse. “Thank you.” She hung onto Hawkman's arm as they moved into the hallway. “Why don't you wait here while I run up and tell Rita goodbye."
“I'm fine. I'll go with you."
“Are you sure? You're staggering."
He put a hand to his forehead. “Okay, I think you're right,” and he flopped into a chair against the wall.
“Don't move. I'll be right back."
Jennifer hurried up to the second floor and started to enter Rita's room, but found herself stopped by the strong arm of the officer guarding the door.
“Just a moment, I need to see some identification. And may I ask why you're here?"
“I'm a friend,” she said, showing her driver's license.
He poked his head into the room. “You know a Jennifer Casey?"
“Yes, yes. Let her in, please,” Rita called out.
Jennifer moved briskly to her bedside. “I can only stay a minute. Hawkman's waiting for me downstairs."
She looked puzzled. “You keep calling your husband ‘Hawkman'."
“It's a nickname and I'll explain it to you at another time; right now I have to hurry. Just wanted you to know he's okay and I'm taking him home. Call me tomorrow when you get out of here.” She headed for the door, then turned. “By the way, who's picking you up?"
“One of my bridge buddies. Glad your hubby's okay. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Jennifer dashed out the door and down the steps. She didn't know what her better half might do if she didn't get back to him. When she arrived by his side, she found him bent over, holding his head in his hands.
“Man, I've got a terrific headache. And they've shaved off a big swatch of my hair. Where's my hat?"
“Do you want me to get the pain pills?"
“No."
“Williams has your hat at the police station. I think it's ruined, so you'll have to shape another one. Do you feel like walking to the car or do you want me to bring it around."
He stood up and swayed a little. “I think I can make it okay."
When they got outside, it was pouring rain.
“You wait here so you don't get wet,” Jennifer said. “I'll get the car."
Hawkman leaned against the side of the building without an argument and she ran into the cloud burst. She soon had the SUV at the door and he climbed inside. He pushed against the seat and lowered the back rest. Before Jennifer drove out of the parking lot, he'd closed his eyes, breathing in a soft rhythm. She smiled to herself.
The storm eased as she approached Copco Lake and had diminished to a sprinkle by the time she pulled into their driveway. She jumped out, ran to the entry, deactivated the alarm and opened the front door. When she reached the passenger side of the vehicle, Hawkman had awakened and glanced around.
“We home already? Boy, you must have broken the sound barrier."
“No, dear, I drove the speed limit. Let's get you into bed; then I'll move the 4X4 into the garage."
She got him tucked in, put the car away, then went to the bathroom to let Miss Marple out for a run. When Jennifer opened the door, she burst into laughter. “Oh, no, you've been one busy little cat."
“What'd she do?” Hawkman called from the bedroom.
“Hope you don't mind a big roll of toilet paper. She's unrolled the whole thing and it's draped all over the tub, the toilet and the sink. Our little kitten has had a heyday."
“She's probably mad at you for leaving her so long."
“I wouldn't doubt it."
Miss Marple launched out of the room like a rocket, passed Jennifer, and headed straight to where Hawkman lay on the bed. After leaping up on the end of the mattress, she sat down on her haunches and stared at him.
Jennifer rolled up the paper the best she could, giggling as she worked. Then she crept into the room and watched the feline from a distance. Miss Marple inched herself closer to Hawkman's leg and snuggled as close as possible without disturbing him. It fascinated Jennifer how the animal had taken to her husband.
When the phone jangled, Jennifer hurried into the kitchen. Her full attention focused on the answering machine.
“Guess I
didn't hit you hard enough. I saw them take you to the hospital and your pretty wife brought you home. The police think I've disappeared. But have no fear, I'm still around. So watch your back, Hawk Man. I'm not through with you."
Jennifer hit her fist on the counter. “Who are you and why are you doing this?” she asked aloud. She left the phone and booted up her computer. Her nerves felt raw and stretched like tight rubber bands. It would take awhile to unwind, and that message didn't help.
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The next morning, Hawkman awoke to see two big blue eyes peering at him. “What the heck are you doing in my bed?” he quizzed the cat.
Jennifer rolled over and took Miss Marple into her arms. “I didn't have the heart to make her go to her room. She's so worried about you."
He sat up and groaned. “Did she tell you this?"
“Not in so many words, but her actions speak tons."
“You know, you're spoiling her. Now, she'll never be happy sleeping anywhere but right here."
“How are you feeling?"
“Much better. I have a very sore scalp."
“The doctor said not to get your stitches wet. So I'll help you wash around them."
His eyes lit up. “You gonna take a shower with me?"
“I don't think I could reach your head,” she quipped.
“Darn. You're such a party pooper."
He climbed out of bed and looked over the lake from the sliding glass door. “Looks like a much nicer day than yesterday. At least the sun is shining."
“April is unpredictable. It could cloud up and snow tonight."
“You're right. I remember a couple of years ago when it snowed in May.” He turned and stretched his arms. “Man, I'm sore all over."
“You took a bad blow and probably fell hard."
“I better give Williams a call."
“Before you do, you might want to listen to the message we received last night."
He jerked around and stared at her. “Why didn't you wake me? I didn't even hear the phone ring."
“There wasn't anything you could do about it."
In for the Kill [Hawkman Series Book 9] Page 6