The Archer [Book 13 of the Hawkman Series] by Betty Sullivan La Pierre Page A

“Thank you, Mr. Higgins. I appreciate the call."
    As he hung up, Jennifer pulled the notebook toward her. “Greg and Steve Wallace, town boys.” She glanced at Hawkman. “They must be brothers."
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
    Early Thursday morning, Hawkman awakened to find Miss Marple rolled up in a ball between him and Jennifer. He felt the coldness in the air and could even see his breath. Hopping out of bed, he dashed in and flipped on the furnace, then jumped back between the covers until the house warmed. The night temperature had really dropped and it wouldn't surprise him to see snow on the ground. He couldn't go back to sleep, so he grabbed his clothes off the chair and went to the bathroom. After a hot steaming shower and shave, he felt his blood had at least heated up enough to venture to the kitchen. A cup of hot coffee would take off the edge.
    Glancing out the window, it surprised him not to see icicles hanging from the gutters, nor any snow on the ground. The brown grass glistened with frost and when the early morning sun beams streaked across the roof of the fire house, it twinkled like diamonds.
    Jennifer strolled into the room wrapped in a heavy robe with furry house shoes. “Brrrr, it's cold."
    "It is. I wanted to cuddle this morning, but found an obstacle in my way,” he said, eyeing the cocky little cat.
    Jennifer reached down and stroked the feline's back. “She knew where to get cozy."
    "Want a cup of coffee?"
    "Sounds wonderful."
    They sat at the kitchen bar and chatted, then Hawkman glanced at his watch. “I'm going into town and see if I can catch Detective Williams. I'm going to ask if those Wallace brothers are known by the police."
    "You be careful; I'm sure there's black ice on the road. The four-by-four won't help you there."
    "I will.” He reached over and gave her a kiss, shrugged into his Marlboro coat, then picked up the briefcase and arrow, left out the front door, and closed it quickly to prevent any frigid air from entering.
    Hawkman rolled into the police department's lot and parked. Leaving the valise and arrow under the passenger seat, he stepped out of the warm vehicle, turned up the collar of his coat and held onto his hat as a cold brisk breeze whipped around the corner of the building. He hurried into the department's main lobby, greeted familiar faces and headed down the hall to Williams’ office. The door stood open, so he poked his head around and noticed Williams at his usual task of signing papers.
    "Do you ever get writer's cramp?” Hawkman asked.
    Williams glanced up, raised his hand and twitched his fingers, then broke into a big grin. “Hey, buddy, good to see you. Where have you been keeping yourself?"
    "Busy on cases.” He pointed to the stack of papers on the desk. “I can see you've had your share."
    The detective shook his head. “It never stops.” He gestured toward a chair. “Have a seat and tell me what's on your mind."
    Hawkman gave him a quick run-down on Laura King and how an arrow had been shot at his door. “I'm trying to find the culprit. I'm sure the incidents are connected due to the note. However, I have no eye witnesses, nor has Laura ever seen her stalker. She doesn't have an inkling who it could be. So I've been questioning people and came across a couple of names I thought I'd ask you about."
    "Shoot."
    "The Wallace brothers."
    Williams groaned. “God, don't tell me you've encountered Steve and Greg Wallace."
    "Not yet, but obviously they aren't strangers to you."
    "They're a couple of rowdies. We've had them in here numerous times for one thing or another. My officers are constantly pulling over their black pickup for speeding or reckless driving."
    "Have they ever been jailed?"
    "Their dad, Al Wallace, is one of the wealthiest men in the county. He bails them out and sends them home to do the same thing the next day."
    "Certainly doesn't sound like they're learning any good lessons."
    "They're a couple of wild ones