Shadows in the Night [Hawkman--Book 12] (28 page)

He pulled into Hampton's empty parking slot near the door. Leaving his briefcase in the vehicle, he grabbed his sandwich and thermos with one hand, held his hat with the other, then ran for the door through the pouring rain. Using the card Perry had given him, he entered the building. He removed his coat and hung it on the tree horn near the door, then went to the seat in the corner where he'd been earlier. His view covered the entries, elevator and corridor which would serve his purpose. Holding his wristwatch up so it would catch the light, he noted it was midnight. There were long hours ahead, and he wasn't sure anything would occur. However, his gut told him not to drop off to sleep. These murders had been happening closer and closer together.

After finishing his sandwich and drinking half the coffee, he decided to walk around, as a full tummy would probably make him drowsy. His sight had grown accustomed to the darkness, so he found it easy to maneuver in the surroundings without bumping into tables. He moved down the hallway trying the office doors, and found them locked, which didn't surprise him. Then he traveled the opposite direction, and looked in the exercise room full of very expensive machines, which didn't cease to amaze him. The first floor corridor appeared quiet, so he rode the elevator to the second. When he passed some of the doors, the sounds of sleep made its way through the panels. He smiled as he listened, and figured in twenty years he'd probably make enough noise to run Jennifer out of bed.

Maggie's apartment appeared quiet. More than likely, George's snoring might have been one of the reasons she liked it here so well. He checked the computer room, the pool table area, and the large movie alcove with a big screen, then stopped to examine a half done jigsaw puzzle in one of the leisure niches.

All seemed serene as he headed back to the elevator. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks as he heard the hum of the pulleys. He quickly ducked behind the wall of the game center, reached inside his shirt, and loosened the Velcro flap on the shoulder holster that protected his gun.

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Hawkman heard the clank of walker wheels hit the bump leading out of the elevator. He stole a peek around the door jamb and couldn't believe his sight. What the hell was Maggie doing up at this hour? When he stepped out of the shadows, she jumped and almost dropped the item she held in her hand.

"Mr. Casey, you scared the living daylights out of me. Why are you hiding in there?"

"Watching to see who came out of the elevator. I sure didn't expect you. What are you doing roaming around at this hour?"

"I couldn't sleep. Guess I've had too much excitement. Decided to go down to the kitchen and see if there were any goodies left.” She held up a small plastic bag half full of cookies. “I lucked out. There were a few left on a platter. Would you like to come to my place and share them with me?"

"No, thanks, but I'll accompany you."

When they reached her apartment, she turned the handle, and pushed open the door. Hawkman immediately moved in front of her.

"Hold on. Why didn't you lock up while you went downstairs rummaging for treats?"

She glanced up at him with wide eyes. “I didn't think it necessary since I'd only be gone a few minutes."

"You wait here, and I'll check inside before you enter."

He stepped over the threshold, pulled his gun, and walked through each room. After examining the closets, and under the bed, he holstered his weapon, and called for her to come on in. He pointed a finger. “Don't leave again without locking your door."

She stared at him with concern. “You're frightening me. I probably won't go to sleep at all now."

"Sorry, but right now I want you to be very alert.” He reached for the door knob. “I need to leave so I can patrol the halls. Will you be all right?"

Maggie waved him out. “I'll be fine. Get out there so you can protect us."

Hawkman left a very nervous woman, and heard the lock click as he walked down the corridor. He hoped he hadn't missed anything while taking the few minutes with her. Hurrying down the hallway, he checked the man's apartments, then headed downstairs by way of the stairwell. This would bring him right in front of the two women's quarters.

The floor appeared quiet. He went back to the recreation room and his stake out chair. He rubbed his chin trying to analyze how he'd not seen Maggie going down to the dining room, and figured he must have missed her when he was examining the extra rooms. Since her apartment wasn't far from the elevator, it would've been easy not to see or hear her with the carpeted hallway. Not wanting it to happen again, he decided his best bet was to remain in one spot where he could see the comings and goings from all directions.

The minutes seemed to drag as the night grew longer. Hawkman rubbed his face several times and wiggled in the chair trying to find a position where he wouldn't get too comfortable. He didn't dare get up and move around, afraid he'd give himself away to anyone coming into the building. The room had taken on a chill and he noticed the shadows of the plants in the garden area whipping back and forth in the wind. The storm he'd heard about on the weather forecast had hit. His tall body ached in the soft chair and he had to stand up. Checking for the darkest area, he moved toward the corner and leaned against the wall, where he could still see the entries.

He figured it must be close to three in the morning, and angled his watch so it caught the reflection of the dimmed hallway lights. It surprised him to see it was only a little before two. His intuition had made him stay here tonight and it seldom proved wrong.

The deaths were happening closer together. However, there was always the possibility nothing would occur, and he'd have to stay another twenty-four hours. He'd need some shuteye sometime or he'd not last through another long night.

Suddenly, a noise at the front door caught his attention. He quickly dropped behind the couch and peeked around the edge as he watched the door slowly open. May Montgomery stepped inside, closed her umbrella, and stood it beside the jamb. She cautiously crossed the room, then turned down the corridor toward Lisa's office. He could no longer see her, but heard her try the door, then knock softly.

"Lisa, are you there?"

He stayed behind the couch not wanting to spoil his cover. He doubted May was the murderer, but what she was doing here at this early hour and why is she knocking at her daughter's office? Surely she knows she's not there. Then he remembered Lisa's car parked in the lot. He wondered how May got the card to get in the building?

About that time, he heard the door leading to the garden area open. Lisa Montgomery stepped inside, closed her umbrella, and stomped down the hallway.

"Mother, what the hell are you doing?"

"Looking for you."

"I told you I'd be working late."

"How come your office is locked?"

"Because I'm in the other building helping out a new girl. When I went to my car, I saw yours parked next to mine. Now let's get home. I've got to be back here in the morning."

Hawkman hunkered down behind the couch and remained motionless as he watched Lisa lead her mother by the arm. May picked up her umbrella, as Lisa opened hers outside the door, then the two walked out into the rain. Once the door clicked shut, Hawkman waited a few seconds before he stood and went back to the dark corner.

It felt like an hour had passed when suddenly a cool breeze hit him in the face. He jerked around to see a shadowy figure enter the building through the garden, and again he dropped behind the couch. A bright lightning flash coming through the windows gave him full view of the person and the glistening syringe he held in a latex covered hand. Hawkman edged out from behind the sofa, took his gun from the holster, and silently followed the intruder down the corridor.

When the man reached the door of Patti Cline, he stuck his master key into the hole. Hawkman stepped from the shadows and aimed the gun. “Hold it right there."

Don Jackson whirled around. His eyes flashed and his mouth contorted into a nasty grimace. “What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you."

"Ms. Cline invited me up."

"Why didn't you knock instead of using your master key? I'll tell you why. You drugged her drink with Halcion and know she's in a deep sleep. Now you're going to go pump her full of insulin."

Jackson gripped the syringe like a knife, then in a quick movement, swung his arm above his head, lurched at Hawkman and brought the needle down on his gun hand, planting it deeply into his arm. Stumbling backwards against a heavy metal trash can, Hawkman snatched the syringe from his flesh and threw it aside. Not wanting to fire his gun within the confines of the building for fear of hurting a resident, he regained his balance, and took after Don down the hallway.

Jackson had a couple of seconds head start and made it out the door leading into the garden. By the time Hawkman reached the landscaped area, he'd slammed the seldom used wrought iron gate shut. Hawkman struggled to unlatch it and grabbed the card from his back pocket as the door to the other building closed. He jammed the card into the slot and threw open the door. As he passed a wide eyed nurse watching the chase, Hawkman yelled, “Call 911"

The woman hurried to the reception desk and picked up the phone.

He ran out the other door, just as Jackson jumped into his car. He aimed his gun at one of the back tires and fired. It immediately went flat, but it didn't prevent Jackson from trying to steer the vehicle toward Hawkman. Taking aim at the front end, Hawkman fired, which forced the car to spin around on the wet pavement, stopping with Jackson looking down the barrel of his .45 pistol.

"Get out,” Hawkman said.

Jackson opened the door and slowly moved from under the steering wheel, holding his hands in the air. “How did you know?"

"You shouldn't leave your murder paraphernalia in plain view in the backseat of your car."

About that time two patrol cars, sirens blaring and lights flashing, bounced into the parking lot, and rolled in at an angle in front of the two standing men. The officers jumped out with guns drawn as Jackson yelled, “Don't shoot."

"I'm making a citizen's arrest,” Hawkman said. “I want this man booked for attempted murder."

One of the officers pushed Jackson against the car and threw on the handcuffs. After reading him the Miranda rights, they shoved him into the back seat of the police car.

Hawkman holstered his gun, then pointed at the Honda. The lab needs to go through this vehicle, so you better call a tow truck and get it to the police yard. There's a lot of evidence inside. Also, you need to get to his apartment where you'll find other incriminating items."

Soon, an unmarked car rounded the corner and Detective Williams climbed out.

"Looks like you caught our villain?"

"I'm sure of it. You got a plastic bag on you?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"He tried to hit me with a syringe. I need to go retrieve it out of the hallway."

Hawkman took the evidence bag and jogged through the assisted living area, then into the independent living building. He found the needle on the floor of the corridor where he'd tossed it, picked it up by the sharp end and dropped it into the sack. A man opened the door of one of the rooms.

"What's going on out here?"

"Nothing for you to be concerned about. It's over and you can go back to bed."

Returning to the parking lot, Hawkman handed the plastic container to the detective. “Careful of the needle. My fingerprints are going to be on that too, as he jabbed me good and I had to pull it out."

Williams frowned. “What's in it?"

"Insulin, I'm sure. It's not going to hurt me, as it's still almost full. He didn't have time to plunge much."

The detective carefully took the syringe and placed it in his vehicle. “How did you know this guy was your man?"

"I really got suspicious after I followed him to his car one evening and took a gander at what he had in the back seat. Then I checked out his apartment."

"Oh, so I won't be able to use you in court without getting you arrested for breaking and entering."

Hawkman scratched his sideburn. “Something like that. However, the evidence is still there without any of my fingerprints."

Williams grinned. “Figures. What'd you find?"

He pointed to the car. “In the Honda you'll find a couple of boxes of syringes, carton of latex gloves and a small ice chest, which I assume holds the insulin."

"Yeah, but if he's a diabetic, wouldn't that be normal?"

"Not when he's wearing an insulin pump. He has no need for so many needles. It's possible he might carry an extra syringe if his pump malfunctioned, but not boxes full."

"In his apartment?"

"Several prescriptions of Halcion are in the bathroom medicine cabinet."

"Ooh, sweet."

"I imagine, if you can get a hold of Ms. Cline's glass before she washes it you'll find residue of the sleep medication.

"I'll get right on it. Do you have any idea of a motive?"

"I'm leaving it up to you to find out. His past record is sort of weird. It appears he's messed up. After he got out of the service he got slapped with charges of sexually harassing women at three jobs. Maybe you can question him about why he went after older women in particular."

The detective nodded. “No sense in us standing out in this rain any longer. Come with me and we'll check on Ms. Cline before I head for the station to book Jackson."

"Hope we can arouse her."

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Hawkman and the detective hurried to Ms. Cline's room. When they couldn't get a response, they pounded louder on the door and called her name, causing the residents to come out of their apartments. Hawkman then pointed to an object on the floor.

"I wonder if Jackson lost his master key?"

Williams pulled an evidence bag out of his pocket, picked it up by the tip, and dropped it inside. “I can use this, but will probably rub off his prints."