Sheriff Virgil Granger went in his office where Chief Deputy Kevin Mann was waiting for him at the conference table.
“They’re here,” Virgil said. “My curiosity’s on tilt. Kate Cummings called and asked me to hear them out, no matter how farfetched their story may sound. You and I will interview Hawk Cummings. Duncan and Hobbs will interview Dennis Armison. Ready?”
“Chomping at the bit.” Kevin ran a comb through his wavy red hair as he rose to his feet. “I’m as curious as you are.”
Virgil walked with Kevin down the hall and into the first interview room. The sheriff sat across the table from Hawk Cummings. Kevin took the seat next to Virgil’s.
“Hawk, you remember my chief deputy, Kevin Mann.”
“Yes, sir,” Hawk said. “Good to see you again.”
“If you don’t mind,” Virgil said, “I’d like to record this interview to help us keep the facts straight.”
Hawk nodded. “I’m fine with that.”
Virgil took the recorder out of his pocket, laid it on the table, and pushed the on button. “This is Sheriff Virgil Granger. It’s ten thirteen a.m. on Wednesday, June 7. I’m interviewing Hawk Cummings, who is here to report alleged crimes that occurred on Saturday, June 3. This interview is taking place at the Raleigh County Courthouse in the presence of Chief Deputy Kevin Mann.” Virgil looked over at Hawk. “State your full name, age, and address.”
“John Hawk Cummings, I’m twenty-four years old. My address is 100 Angel View Road, Foggy Ridge.”
“And are you giving this statement of your own free will?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re here to report two crimes. Is that correct?”
“Yes it is.”
“And what is the nature of those crimes?”
“Kidnapping and attempted murder.”
“Where did these alleged crimes take place?”
“At the home of a twenty-three-year-old woman named Kennedy Taylor. The address is 101 Mountain View Court in Raleigh County. The mailing address is Foggy Ridge.”
“And how do you know these alleged crimes took place?”
Hawk leaned forward, his elbows folded on the table. “Because I was there. And I believe someone tried to kill me.”
Virgil listened intently as Hawk told his story. He studied Hawk’s demeanor. His facial expressions. His eyes. Voice inflection. As far as he could tell, Hawk believed what he was saying. Virgil understood why Kate had called to give him a heads-up. Hawk’s story sounded more like a movie than a crime that took place in Foggy Ridge.
“What else can you tell us about Kennedy Taylor,” Virgil said, “other than she was gorgeous?”
Hawk shrugged. “I already told you what I know. She obviously lied about inheriting a fortune and buying that house. She said she was twenty-three, but who knows if that’s even true? She didn’t tell me anything else about herself.”
Virgil leaned forward on his elbows. “You want us to believe you were together for six weeks and she never told you anything else about herself? Her favorite color? Her favorite food? Places she’s been? Nothing?”
“I can’t remember,” Hawk said. “We didn’t talk that much.”
Kevin smirked. “That’s right. You found you a hot chick and talking was optional.”
“Don’t refer to Kennedy that way,” Hawk said, his voice an octave higher. “Believe it or not, she was a real lady. She didn’t know about Laura Lynn. We didn’t intend to get involved—it just happened.”
“I’m not judging you,” Kevin said. “I’m looking for any clue that might help us figure out who she was.”
“I doubt if this is a clue to anything, but she liked love stories and tear-jerker movies on Netflix,” Hawk said. “She hated any kind of drama that had violence and wouldn’t watch them. She’d always fall asleep.” Hawk was quiet for a moment, then he said, “Once when we were just lying there together, she talked about a dream she’d had over and over since she was a little girl, that she grew wings and could fly wherever she wanted and look for her real home. Something like that. I couldn’t relate to what she was saying, but I felt her loneliness. Does that help?”
“It might.” Virgil looked over at Kevin. “Let’s move on.”
“Hawk, you never actually saw this hexacopter drone, is that correct?” Kevin said.
“No, sir. I think I did see it, but whatever mind-altering chemical it dusted us with caused me to hallucinate. I saw it as giant black spider that spewed venom. Weird. But I distinctly remember being dusted with some kind of substance that made me cough and choke until I passed out. I thought I was going to die.”
“Did you go to the doctor to get checked out?” Virgil said.
“No. I’ve been having killer headaches, but I didn’t want to explain to a doctor why I was having them. They’re becoming less frequent now.”
“Let’s go back to the drone for a minute.” Kevin glanced at his notes. “You stated you think you saw it. And that Brody Armison, now deceased, claimed to have witnessed the drone attack. But the fact is, there’s no supporting evidence that this drone exists, or that it dusted you and Kennedy Taylor with a chemical.”
“I have supporting evidence,” Hawk said. “I saved the clothes I was wearing and my sunglasses, and put them in a trash bag in case I needed them for proof.”
Virgil nodded. “Good thinking. We need to get those from you and have the chemical analyzed.”
Kevin stared at Hawk without saying anything—his usual intimidation tactic. Hawk didn’t flinch. Didn’t seem nervous.
“All right, for the sake of argument,” Kevin said, “let’s say you were attacked by a drone and dusted with a chemical, and Kennedy Taylor disappeared just as you said. Why did you wait this long to report it?”
Hawk folded his hands on the table. “I guess because my understanding of what happened evolved. At first, I was dazed. I woke up at sunset completely disoriented. Kennedy was gone. Everything in her house was gone. I thought maybe she dumped me. But that didn’t make sense. Why would she ask me to spend the day with her if she planned to skip out? Especially since we were getting along so well. So I started to wonder if she was involved in something criminal—or was a victim herself—and I realized how little I knew about her. I wasn’t even sure whether Kennedy Taylor was her real name. I didn’t know what to report. I also worried that if Kennedy was involved in organized crime or drugs or something, I might be guilty by association. I wrestled with it the rest of the weekend. But on Monday, after Dennis told me what Brody told him, a light came on. It finally made sense.”
“So this light came on in your head,” Kevin said, “and you suddenly knew what had happened to you. Why didn’t you tell Dennis right then that you were the man Brody saw?”
“Because I was stunned. I could hardly breathe. For the first time, I saw the whole picture. It was mind blowing. I’d been attacked by a spider drone. The spider I saw was a hallucination induced by the chemical. I realized that Kennedy had been kidnapped—and all her belongings hauled off—by eight men who had left me for dead. It was a lot to take in.”
Virgil cleared his throat. “You said you went to high school with Dennis and his cousin Brody. What can you tell me about Brody?”
“He had some mental issues that made it hard for him to fit in. I don’t know exactly what was wrong, but he seemed to be in a world of his own. I never hung out with Brody. No one did. Dennis and I were into sports, and Brody was a computer geek who loved to read. I remember he got bullied a lot, and Dennis and I kept him from getting beat up a few times. We graduated a year ahead of him. That was seven years ago. I could count on one hand the times I’ve run into Brody since.”
Virgil folded his arms on the table. “But he wouldn’t forget your face. Didn’t it seem odd that Brody was able to describe the drone attack in detail and yet didn’t recognize you as the man who was left for dead?”
“Not really,” Hawk said. “My hair’s a lot shorter now. I have a stubble beard. And I had sunglasses on, even when I passed out. But if Brody was looking at Kennedy through his binoculars, I promise you he wasn’t paying attention to me. The woman is drop-dead gorgeous.”
“Do you think you could describe her to the sketch artist?” Virgil said.
“Absolutely.”
“You seem pretty sure that Brody was forced off the road. Did he tell you he feared for his life?”
“No, I haven’t seen or spoken to Brody in ages. Dennis told me Brody was really scared that he was being followed.”
“But as you pointed out, Brody also had a history of mental problems,” Virgil said. “And yet, without ever talking to him personally about his fear that he was being followed, you believe he was murdered? Hawk, that’s a mighty big leap, don’t you think?”
Hawk shook his head. “No, sir. Not when you consider all the facts. The drone went right over Brody’s head. It most likely photographed him. Whoever controlled the drone had to assume that, at the very least, Brody saw the drone attack and Kennedy being carried off by the two guys in gas masks. It wasn’t a stretch for me to believe Brody was being followed. Or that they ran him off the road. They weren’t taking any chances that he’d seen too much.”
“Which bring us back to your concern,” Virgil said, “that whoever allegedly killed Brody is now trying to find you.”
“It’s not farfetched,” Hawk said. “Whoever killed Brody probably kidnapped Kennedy and left me for dead. But they must know I survived. Maybe they’re worried that Kennedy told me things in the course of our relationship that could expose them. Of course, she didn’t tell me anything, except that she inherited a fortune when her parents died, and she decided to buy that big house and settle in Foggy Ridge. And even that was a lie.”
Kevin underlined something in his notes. “How often would you guess the two of you were together over that six-week period?”
Hawk’s face and neck turned bright pink, his eyebrows came together. “Is that really relevant?”
“It could be, especially if you were being watched.”
Hawk stared at his hands. “Well, for the five weeks prior to Memorial Day, I was seeing Kennedy around nine p.m. on Sunday and all day Tuesday, which was my day off. Now that we’re into the tourist season, I only get Sundays off. But this past weekend, I switched days off with my sidekick and I took Saturday off, which happened to be the day of the sailboat races. It was the perfect cover for spending the day at Kennedy’s place without anyone questioning my whereabouts.”
“So prior to Memorial Day,” Kevin said, “you established a five-week pattern of being at Kennedy’s house around nine o’clock on Sunday night and again all day on Tuesday. And when did you agree to switch days off with your sidekick?”
“I talked to Connor about it on Friday night.”
“Did you discuss it with Kennedy over the phone?”
“Sure,” Hawk said, “right after I hung up with Connor. She was excited and invited me to spend all day Saturday with her at the house.”
“Did you call her cell phone or a landline?” Kevin said.
“Kennedy didn’t like cell phones because of the radiation. She had a landline—an unlisted number.”
“When you talked to her on the phone, did you ever hear clicking sounds that you didn’t get when talking to other people?”
“Now that you mention it, yes,” Hawk said. “I just assumed it was a bad connection, because of where she lived. Is that significant?”
Kevin wrote something in his notes. “The fact that the alleged drone attack occurred when you two were together on a Saturday, which was out of the ordinary and only spoken of over the phone, suggests to me that Kennedy’s phone was tapped. My guess is her house was bugged too.”
Hawk looked panicked, his face the color of Kevin’s hair. “So much for the expectation of privacy. At least they would know that she didn’t tell me anything.”
“Over the phone, yes,” Kevin said. “But most of your conversations took place at her house. Multiple bugs would enable them to clearly hear conversations within range. But pillow talk and the like … not so much, if you were speaking softly. And if you played loud music or had conversations in the bathroom with the shower on, your voices would probably have been drowned out, which might have made them think you knew they were listening in, and you had something to hide.”
Hawk sighed. “That explains why they tried to kill me with the drone.”
Virgil glanced over at Kevin, then leaned forward and made eye contact with Hawk. “Son, if a group this organized wanted you dead, they would’ve made sure you were dead at the scene. It’s hard to know what we’re dealing with.”
“But you have a hunch, right?” Hawk said.
“It’s too early to speculate.” Virgil turned to Kevin. “Have Hawk tell you where he stashed the clothes he was wearing during the drone attack, and send someone out to the house immediately to collect them. Then get the sketch artist in here. Let’s see if we can find out who this woman is.”