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

and it will be only a matter of time when the old man can't bail them out."
    "Would you by any chance know if they're owners of a compound bow?"
    "Yep. We've confiscated a couple off them."
    "What were they doing?"
    "Showing off at the county fair. They'd been denied an entry into the bow competition, but barged into the arena toting their bows and the police had to haul their butts out. They're a couple of law breakers and have no respect for rules and regulations."
    "How old are they?"
    Williams scratched the stubble on his chin, making a sound like sandpaper. “They're in their early twenties, but right off the top of my head I can't remember their exact ages, but they're really close. Not more than eighteen months apart; and to look at them, you'd think they were twins."
    "I hate to ask, but do you have any mug shots?"
    "I'm sure we do. Hang on a second and I'll see if I can pull the files."
    The detective left the room for a few minutes, then returned. “Alice will do that little chore for me, and I told her to make a copy of each. She'll bring them in."
    "Great. I don't know if these guys have anything to do with what I'm looking for, but they're the first lead I've had."
    "You have to start somewhere. By the way, how's that pretty little wife of yours?"
    "She's great and still writing mystery stories."
    "With all the information you supply, she has plenty to write about."
    "Tell me. She pumps me all the time about my cases."
    Williams chuckled. “She's a great lady. Count yourself lucky. Not many like her around."
    Hawkman nodded. “She's my life."
    Alice walked in with papers in her hand. “Well, hello, Hawkman. Williams didn't tell me it was you who wanted copies of these two rascals."
    "How are you, Alice?"
    "I'm doing just fine.” She handed the copies to the detective. “Sure glad the holidays are over; maybe things can return to normal. Seems Christmas comes around faster every year.” She started to leave the room, then turned. “Tell Jennifer I said hello, and am waiting for her next book."
    Hawkman lifted a hand. “I'll do that."
    Williams passed a copy of the sheets to Hawkman. He glanced through the stats, then looked up at the detective.
    "Says here the mother is deceased. When did she die and how?"
    "About seven years ago, if my memory serves me right. She had breast cancer and didn't discover it in time. Even though she had a double mastectomy and went through a couple of years of chemotherapy, it came back. But this time, all over her body. She was a fine woman. It about killed Al Wallace. I think he lets those boys go without discipline because he couldn't stand the thought of hurting them in any way, especially since they lost their mother."
    "Sad, but he isn't helping them by paying their way out of trouble. Do Greg or Steve have jobs or go to school?” Hawkman pointed to the papers. “Doesn't say here."
    "Nothing we know about. I think Steve started college, then dropped out after his Freshman year. I'm not sure Greg ever started."
    Hawkman stood. “I better get out of here so you can finish penning your name to those papers. Don't want you blaming me for getting behind."
    Williams grinned. “You're already the bad guy; you've delayed me at least forty-five minutes."
    "I'm out of here."
    Before Hawkman could get through the door, Williams called, “Let me know if you need my help."
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CHAPTER TWELVE
    Hawkman sat in his vehicle for a few minutes and read through the reports on the two Wallace brothers. He could definitely see where the boys looked like twins from their mug shots. Same jaw lines, noses, mouths, and they wore their hair in similar cuts. The eyes were shaped a little different, but they were good-looking young men. The pictures were black and white so he had to read the description. They both had black hair and green eyes; and one was five feet, nine inches tall, the other five feet, ten inches. Noting the address, he realized the Wallaces lived