The Archer [Book 13 of the Hawkman Series] Read Online Free PDF Page B

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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CHAPTER SEVEN
    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