Page 2 of Night Hawk
Clay stood in the lobby of the yellowed brick school building. A bloodcurdling scream shattered the eerie silence.
His pulse kicked up.
A woman. Obviously in danger. Not at all what he’d expected to find here, but he’d seen a car in the parking lot. Maybe this mystery woman was the reason he’d been sent the note to show up here at precisely five-fifteen p.m. As usual, he was five minutes early. It sounded like it was a good thing he was.
He drew his gun and moved toward the stairwell. The sun had made its last gasp for the day, leaving the space in heavy shadows. Pale moonlight streamed through a broken window. Not enough light to see much, just old bulletin boards on the walls and an empty trophy case with shattered glass.
An ominous feeling permeated the air, and he swallowed hard.
He might’ve once been an ICE agent and was now a partner in the Nighthawk Security agency, but his heart thudded in his chest. People thought law enforcement officers didn’t get scared, but the reality was, they just knew how to deal with the fear and still act.
Following the note’s instructions, he moved as fast as he dared without putting himself in danger. He wanted to help the woman, but he couldn’t if he sustained a serious injury.
He paused at the stairwell to listen. Nothing. Only the beat of a clock ticking down in his head. He started down the stairs where he was sure the scream originated, counting as he moved. Seven stairs to the landing. He stopped and waited. No sounds. Not even a rodent scurrying around.
He continued on to an unfinished dungeon-like basement that smelled like years of mold buildup. He listened. Heard a faint rattle.
Rattlesnake? Seriously? As a Boy Scout, he’d learned that rattlesnakes lived in the area, but he’d never seen one.
He stepped to the closet door, marked Janitor. The note told him to go into this room, but the windowless door was closed, and he couldn’t see inside.
A faint sound reached him.
What was that? The whimper of a woman from the other side?
Was the woman in there? She must’ve screamed before the door closed or he wouldn’t have heard her.
He twisted the knob. It turned under his hand, and he opened the door. Made out a silhouette of a person standing just inside the small room. Heard the unmistakable rattle of a snake.
A snake? What in the world?
He had to know what was going on or he couldn’t fix it. Even if this person meant to harm him. He flipped on his flashlight. A woman stood terrified as a brown snake with cream and black stripes slithered their direction in the long narrow room, its tongue sliding in and out.
Clay aimed his gun at the reptile.
The door slammed behind him. The lock bar dropped and slid into place with a solid thunk.
He stifled a curse, his brain racing for a plan of action. No time to check the woman’s identity. Clay had a snake eyeing him up, and he couldn’t predict the snake’s actions.
He ran the light over the room and spotted a long mop handle. It had a metal bar on the end, the mophead missing.Perfect.
He propped his flashlight on the shelf to keep the beam on the snake and grabbed the pole. He angled it toward the slithering creature now focused on the mop, its rear section pulling up into an accordion coil.
The head raised. Arched in a death pose and struck the metal. Good. It was no longer going for the woman or him.
Clay moved quickly. Jabbed the metal end under the middle of the long body and lifted. The snake dangled in the air, perfectly balanced, but the reptile wiggled to regain control. He pushed the woman aside, and she wobbled.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll fix this in a flash.” He stepped toward an empty five-gallon bucket, the lid propped against the side.
Now came the tricky part. He maneuvered around, requiring him to point the snake at the woman.
She screamed again, the sound curling his toes. He hated seeing her pain but had to let the sound roll off him if he was going to keep them alive. He picked up the lid then lowered the snake into the bucket and held it down with the handle. He shoved the lid over the top, jerking out the pole as he moved and making sure the lid latched. He dropped down on top of the bucket, his muscles shaking. The snake continued to hiss below him, but they were safe for now.
They. The woman.Who was she? He looked at her in the pale glow reflected from his flashlight. She was tall and lean, wearing dark blue jeans and a mint colored sweater under a waterproof jacket in a deep burgundy. He let his gaze fall on her face, framed with black hair in a feathery cut, and his mouth dropped open.
“Toni,” he said. “Is that you? What are you doing here?”
She didn’t respond. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open as if she’d frozen in place. Apparently, the snake still terrified her even though it was contained in the bucket. He spotted a rusted but heavy vise sitting on a small workbench, he stood, picked it up, and set it on top the bucket for extra measure.
