by RB Schalin
Chapter 25
"Hawk!"
The sound of his name comes through to him and he opens his eyes.
"Hawk, open the door."
His body is shiny from the thin film of sweat covering him. He stands up, but has to hold on to the wall. Shit, too much to drink last night, he thinks, while trying to keep from having to sit down again. His stomach makes threatening movements and he quells a need to puke. He shakes his head and looks for something to wear.
Grabbing his jeans and a shirt he quickly dresses and then walks barefoot through to the living room and opens the front door.
The sun is so bright he has to step back and cover his eyes. Christ, I’m turning into a vampire, he thinks while trying to focus on the person standing before him.
"Rough night, Chief?" asks Holmes and steps inside.
"Uh-huh, something like that."
She walks into the kitchen and he follows with heavy steps. He pulls out a chair and sits down, resting his head on his arms, all he wants is to go back to sleep. He can hear her pouring water in a pot and then the sounds of cups and the fridge opens and closes. Silences, then the sound of an egg being broken and soon the smell of fried egg and bacon float in the air.
Holmes sits down opposite Hawk and looks at him. His hair is all over the place, and there is the smell of alcohol coming from his pores. She reaches across the table and shakes his shoulder lightly.
"Hey, wake up. Breakfast is on its way. We need to talk."
He lifts up his head and looks at her through bloodshot eyes. God, she is cute he thinks, and then his head falls back on his arms.
"Hawk, you need to pull yourself together," she says while getting up.
She takes a plate and finds a fork in a drawer. She places the egg and bacon in front of him and goes back to the stove and makes a cup of instant coffee. When she places it close to his nose, she finally gets a reaction.
"That smells good," he says in a dreamy voice.
"Christ, how much did you drink last night?"
She steps back and sits down on the chair again. One hand grabs the coffee cup and he raises his head, and slowly takes a few sips. Then a couple more and finally he sits up straight looking at her.
"What time is it?"
"Just after nine. I went by the station, but Mrs. Winters told me you hadn’t come in yet, so I figured you were still at home."
He looks at the plate and picks up the fork, using it to cut the egg. He eats slowly without talking and when he is done, he pushes the plate away and takes the coffee cup.
"What did you want?" he asks after drinking some of the hot black liquid.
"On the way back from Seattle I had an idea, and I was hoping to run it by you and maybe Collins and Friedman too."
"Uh-huh, what kind of an idea?"
"Well, it’s easier to show you. I suggest you take a shower and get dressed, I’ll wait outside."
He slowly stands up while holding on to the table with both hands. His legs feel wobbly, but the food and strong coffee have cleared his head a bit. He smiles at her and attempts a weak wave before slowly crossing the kitchen and heading to the bathroom.
Holmes washes the cups and the plate and then walks outside into the bright sunlight. She sits on a small bench in the garden and waits for him. She knows he has a serious drinking problem, her father had it too. She could tell the signs from the first time they met. His hands were trembling and he had this fragrance of alcohol fumes coming from him. He wasn’t drunk, but he had been drinking the night before. She closes her eyes and turns her face to the sun, the rays burn her face, but she likes the feeling.
Hawk, takes a hot and then cold shower. Afterwards he dresses in a clean shirt, jeans and straps on his service pistol. Checking himself in the mirror, he is OK with what he sees and taking his keys from the small desk by the front door he walks outside.
She is beautiful where she sits on the bench, she is wearing slacks and sandals, her hair is in a bun on top of her head and a few strands of hair falls down on either side of her face. She has a light make up and a white blouse. It’s so thin he can see her bra under it.
"OK, I’m among the living, let’s go, " he says.
She turns towards him and puts on a pair of big sunglasses she has kept in her hand. She stands and walks over to him and asks, "are you feeling any better?"
"A little," he says and unlocks his car with a remote. Inside, he leans over and opens the glove compartment and takes out a big bottle of Tylenol. He shakes out three tablets and swallows them dry.
"Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be perfectly fine," he says grinning at her.
"We’ll see, call Friedman and Collins and tell them to meet us at the Library."
When they arrive at the Library, the two deputies are already waiting for them.
"Morning Chief, " they say in unison.
"Yeah, good morning. How come you got here so fast?" asks Hawk.
"I was at the station and Collins was driving back from the Anderson place."
Turning to Collins he asks, "what happened?"
They begin walking up the steps into the building and Collins says, "they reported a burglary, so I went over and had a look."
"Did you find anything?"
"Broken glass, and the Andersons saying they were missing some bottles from their bar. I figure it was kids looking for free booze."
Hawk has to stop half way and take a breath, the others stop too, and Friedman asks, "are you OK Chief?"
"Yeah, I’ll be fine. I had one of those nights, you know."
The two deputies look down and nod their heads.
Holmes is curious how they can be so calm about their boss drinking so much and almost feel sorry for him.
Inside the Library they find it empty apart from Mrs. Sweldon, the librarian.
"What can I do you for you Chief?" she asks with a smile.
"I don’t know, it’s the young lady here who needs something, we have just been invited."
Mrs. Sweldon turns to Holmes and asks, "yes?"
"I need large scale maps of the area and a computer with internet access."
The librarian nods her head and gestures for them to come along. They follow her down a corridor between high shelves filled with books. Holmes looks at some of the titles and most of them has to do with wildlife and camping. She realizes she is not in the Library of Congress, but the lack of classic literature is shocking. She leans close to Collins and asks, "don’t people read books about things other than wildlife?"
He chuckles and says, "sure, some of us read Playboy, but to be honest with you, people around here just are not into reading a lot. They have grown up with the wilderness on their doorsteps and that’s what they like."
She shakes her head, she loves to read. Back home, she doesn’t have a TV, just her computer and shelves full of books.
They arrive at the end of the corridor and there are several big tables in a semi circle.
"We use this for different clubs that we have here in town, " Mrs. Sweldon says to Holmes.
"Oh, like book clubs, maybe?"
Mrs. Sweldon laughs and says, "I wish, no, we have the Salmon Club, the Rifle Club, the ATW Club and a few more, and they all get together here. I think it will suit your purpose. Over there are a couple of computers and I will bring you the maps you need."
"Thank you, is there a printer?"
"Sure, under the first computer, just make sure there is paper, if not, let me know, and I will bring you some."
She walks off and the group makes themselves comfortable. The deputies take off their night sticks and flashlights and place them on a table. Hawk sits down in a chair and stretches his arms and legs. Holmes turns on the computer with the printer and while it boots up, she pushes two tables together.
"Here we go," says Mrs. Sweldon when she comes back holding a big rolled up map in her hand.
"This should do it, just return it when you are finished." She gives the map to Holmes and walks away leaving
them alone.
Holmes places the roll on the two tables and using the night sticks and the flash lights she anchors the corners so it won’t roll up again.
"Like I said to Hawk before, I had an idea last night, which I would like you to consider."
"Shoot," says Collins, who is standing next to her leaning over the table.
Holmes takes a pencil from a holder next to the computer and uses it to point on the map.
"We are here, and this is the stretch of road between us and the Canadian border. Somewhere along it fifteen people have disappeared. The questions are; did they all disappear at the same place or did they get taken at different locations?"
No one talks, Hawk stands up from his chair and comes closer looking down at the map.
"Well, that's less than 50 miles, you could drive it in under an hour," he says.
"Exactly and most of the way it runs along the Colombia River, and a river is a good place to get rid of bodies. How deep is it?" asks Holmes looking at Hawk.
"About 40 feet," says Collins.
"OK, imagine you need to dump a few bodies, if you had a small boat or a canoe you could go out at night and just drop them overboard after weighing them down," she says.
Hawk scratches his head, and looks at Collins and Friedman.
"What do you think, you guys have lived here all your lives?"
The deputies look at each other and then Friedman says, "I guess it’s a possibility, but the road passes close to the river and there is not much of concealment, I mean the forest doesn’t grow all the way to the river bank, there are several hundred yards of empty space between."
"He is right, plus, there is traffic all day and night, not much, maybe, compared to the big highways, but there is a steady stream of cars and trucks. But, that doesn’t mean it can’t be done." adds Collins.
"Let’s say the killer dumps the bodies in the river, but where does he kill them? Close to the road or does he take them somewhere where he can be alone with them?" asks Hawk, feeling a bit better.
"That’s the big question, what kind of a killer is he? Does he kill them directly or does he torture them, or does he rape the women, we don’t know yet?" says Holmes.
They are quiet for a while, each in their own thoughts. Holmes sits down in front of the computer she turns it on.
"I’m going to print some maps of the area from Google. Then I will tell you my thoughts."
The men settle down around the table and when she is done Holmes sits down and places a few prints on the large map.
"I think he or she takes the victims deeper into the woods, and when he or she is done with them dumps the bodies in the river."
"What makes you come to that conclusion?" asks Hawk leaning in closer.
"Remember we talked about it possibly being a truck driver?"
The three of them nod.
"Well, a truck driver would have to park his or her truck at least for a while to grab his victim, and if there is more than one it would take longer time, higher risk of being seen.
"Why do you say he or she?" asks Collins.
"Because we can’t be sure if it’s a man or a woman we are dealing with."
"The little I know about serial killers is that they are mostly white males between thirty and fifty, and usually have above average intelligence," says Hawk.
Holmes shrugs her shoulders, "OK, let’s say he is a white male. Still, the truck guy doesn’t feel right to me."
"What if he kills them in the truck, I mean, he knocks them over the head, and places them in the truck? Then drives to a more secluded area where he kills them," says Friedman.
"That’s a possibility we have to take into account," says Holmes, nodding her head.
"Why do you think he takes them somewhere else?"
Holmes looks at Hawk and says, "because of what happened to Maria and how you found her. She was killed by a poisonous crossbow bolt, and she was found at one of the few places where the forest grows almost all the way up to the road."
"So?" asks Hawk, and the other two look at her.
"I think he hunts them."
They stare at her and then Collins says, "why?"
"For the same reason people hunt animals, for sport."