Page 30 of Night Hawk
“Thanks for trying,” Clay said, trying to hide his disappointment. “Would you keep your ears to the ground on Hibbard?”
“I can do you one better,” Trent said. “I’ll check in with the nearby counties to see if he’s on anyone’s radar. And ask about the high school. It sits right on the county border, so seems like one of us should’ve seen something going on there.”
“But it’s way back from the road,” Toni said. “And Hibbard had blackout drapes on all the windows.”
“Yeah, but still.” He planted his hands on his hips. “Grinds me that we missed something like that going on right under noses. And now we’ll have the feds breathing down our necks. Nobody wants that.” He cast a wary glance at Toni. “Sorry, I know you’re one of them, but we don’t like anyone coming in and pointing fingers at us.”
“I wish I could say that won’t happen, but I can’t.” Toni came to her feet, keeping her focus pinned to Trent. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone we were here.”
“I won’t volunteer the information, but if Agent Lane asks, I won’t lie.”
Clay walked beside Toni to the exit. “Since we can’t visit the son, let’s go talk to the dad.”
“My thoughts exactly.” She smiled at him, a glorious happy smile he’d seen often before her dad was killed, and his heart wenttwang.
He started to lift his hand to squeeze her arm, but lowered it before he took them into the personal realm. They stepped outside and he got them heading in the right direction.
Within thirty minutes, he was turning into a long driveway, a small purple farmhouse sitting at the end. The paint color was an even brighter purple than Clay expected, though much of the paint had weathered and flaked away.
He killed the engine and leaned forward, letting his gaze wander the property, studying every detail.
Home visits could be dangerous. An officer never knew who was behind the front door. The occupant could be afraid. Mad. Combative. Armed. The condition of a house and property could tell an officer a lot about the people inside. Like the abandoned tractor near the house. The lopsided chicken coop on the side. Cars on blocks and two rusty old motorcycles.
And the house itself.
This one was sad and neglected. Maybe Rader was lazy. Maybe he didn’t have enough money to fix the place up. Maybe he just didn’t care. In any event, he could be defensive from the moment they knocked on the door.
“Looks safe to proceed.” Clay got out and Toni joined him.
A hawk soared overhead, swooped down in the side yard, and came up with a rat dangling from its beak.
Toni shuddered. “In my opinion, rats are second to snakes in things God should never have created.”
“I don’t know,” Clay said, marching up to the door. “It’s obviously not a nighthawk, but we named our agency after hawks, so if I believed in signs, this bird could be a good one.”
He knocked on the worn wooden door and listened for approaching footsteps. Nothing. Listened for a television or radio. Nothing. Listened for any sound. Nothing.
“Looks like he’s not home,” Toni said.
“Truck’s in the driveway.”
“He could’ve gotten a ride with someone.”
Clay pounded harder. The catch released, and the door swung in revealing pry marks on the jamb where the door had been forced.
Death’s rancid odor oozed out of the house, and Clay lurched back.
Toni cupped a hand over her mouth and nose. “Guess he’s home after all, but I doubt he’ll be talking.”
8
There was no question. A person had died, and Clay mentally prepared himself for what awaited them in the house. Nothing compared to the almost caustic odor of decomp. Based on the intensity, Fritz Rader had been gone for days.
“We probably should call Trent.” He leaned against the wall and put a bootie on that they’d retrieved from the SUV. “But he won’t likely share details on a new murder investigation.”
“We need to get a firsthand look before you make that call.” Toni dug out her phone. “Might not be Fritz in there, so I’m going to find a picture of him for comparison.”
“Good thinking.” He put on his other bootie, keeping his eyes alert for any danger.
