![In for the Kill [Hawkman Series Book 9]](/res/dh/book4.jpg)
Read Online In for the Kill [Hawkman Series Book 9] by Betty Sullivan La Pierre - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Betty Sullivan La Pierre
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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
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
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