Chapter One

Thursday, October 23, 2006

Libertyville, IL

Elias Hawk looked out over his back yard from the second floor window, staring without seeing. The caller, nearly ten minutes late, had Elias on edge. Jimmy Donovan and Simon Wells sat in front of Elias’ desk, alternately looking at each other, then over at Elias and then over towards the phone.

“Maybe he’s had second thoughts, or maybe it’s all a hoax. We’ve had our share of those.” Jimmy spoke to no one in particular. He just needed to break the silence.

“Maybe he’s already dead.” Elias’ words spoke what the others feared to say.
Before anyone could respond, though, the ringing phone knifed through the tension, causing all three to flinch and look towards the sound.

Simon took the phone from its base and answered, “Simon here” – his soft Oxford accent still present after all these years.

After an extended pause, “Hi, this is, uh . . . this is J. S.”

“J. S., it is good to hear from you. I will put you on the speaker phone so the others with whom I work can hear, if that is all right.” But he did not wait for confirmation. He pushed the speakerphone button and placed the hand phone back in the stand.

“I am here with Elias Hawk and James Donovan, the other two you have chatted with through the chat room.” Simon continued. “Can you hear me OK?”

“Yes.” A quiet but rich male voice responded.

Elias moved toward the speaker. “J. S., this is Elias Hawk. Do you have a name – a real name, I mean – something other than initials?” Elias’ harsh sounding words shot across the line.

Another long silence before the voice finally said, “Jonathan.”

“OK, Jonathan, thank you for calling in. The chat room is a nice place to start, but to move forward, we need direct contact. That is the only way we can help you.

Are you with me?”

“Yes. But I am not as convinced as you seem to be about our . . . situation.”
Elias moved closer to the speaker. “Jonathan, I’ll be direct. We believe you have no idea of how much danger you and your family are in, but trust me, we do know the situation and we do know that you are lucky to still be alive. Look, you have no way of knowing us or whether we are even who we say we are, and we are in the same position with you. So, we are all going on a lot of faith here,” For Elias, faith was not something he had a lot of at this point, but with this contact, he was willing to believe that things could be changing.

“From what you have told us in the chat room, we believe you know some people we have been looking for . . . for nearly eight years, now. And, if they are who we think they are, we also believe you are, as we tried to explain in the chat room, in danger . . . significant danger. As I said, in our opinion, you are lucky to still be walking the face of the earth.”

Elias paused, continuing to stare down at the phone. The voice on the other end remained silent.

“These people, a couple, to be exact, the ones you referred to as the Connellys, they were, as far as you can tell, trying to hide something. Is that correct?”

The speakerphone remained silent, causing the three listeners to lean forward, as if by getting closer the voice would magically come through.

“Yes, I believe they are trying to hide something, but look,” the voice began, “as I said before, this all started when a few of us came to the conclusion that from what each of us knew about the Connellys, things just didn’t seem to add up – what each of us had heard or been told, just didn’t make sense. The timeline was inconsistent. So I decided, just for kicks, to try to check them out.” He paused a second. “Actually, my wife is the one who first became suspicious. So, she started to question them on some of their history. That’s when they became defensive and the relationship just died. That was a few of months ago. But I kept at it . . . kept trying to find out something about them, and that’s when I found you. To be honest, though, I don’t think our situation is anything like you described. But seriously, this all started as kind of a game for us.”

Elias listened and couldn’t help but think about Mo and how it had been her intuition that had kicked in, making her believe that the Woods, who Elias believed to be now calling themselves Connelly, who were hiding something. What is it about women, Elias wondered, that gives them this innate insight concerning people that men have to learn the long and hard way?

“Jonathan,” Elias cut through the discussion, “if you didn’t have some doubt, you wouldn’t have agreed to talk to us, so the best way to deal with this and to find out if there is any connection, is for me to fly out to . . . to, wherever the hell it is that you live and talk face-to-face. Where is it, exactly, that you live.”

Jonathan paused before finally giving them a name. “Cazenovia. Cazenovia, New York. About twenty miles southeast of Syracuse, a half hour drive. But really, I’m not sure you need to come here. After all, as I said, this started as a joke. In fact, as I mentioned in the chat room, the couple moved away and don’t even live here anymore. The only reason I found you is that my wife kept pushing me to see if I could dig up anything on them – just for conversation, I guess.”

“Believe me,” Elias broke in, “if this is what we think it is, then this is no joke. In fact, I believe I need to get there as soon as possible.” Elias’ voice grew more definite – the tension in it stretched across the miles.

“You did tell us that the Connellys moved away about eight weeks ago, right? Just up and disappeared. Well, if that’s the case, and they stay true to form, then you are in danger, imminent danger. I’ve told you the history during our talks in the chat room.”

The line went silent once again. Elias continued. “Jonathan, you have to give me all the information; your full name, your address, and phone number. I can fly out tonight and be there for us to talk face-to-face tomorrow morning.”

“Let’s hold off a bit.” Jonathan broke in. “I can’t meet you this weekend. We have plans. How about Monday?”

“How about I meet you Sunday night?” Elias responded. “No one makes plans for Sunday night.” Elias persisted, almost getting to the point where he would go to this Cazenovia with or without Jonathan’s approval.

“OK, OK. We meet Sunday night, but it will have to be after the children are in bed. Let’s say, eight o’clock.” He paused before saying, “Stoner, my full name is Jonathan Stoner. We live at 550 Oweghena Terrace, in Cazenovia, NY, but I have to say once again, I can’t believe we are in the type of danger you described. After all, they moved away.”

“Believe me, it is every bit as dangerous as I said . . . maybe more because of the length of time they have been gone.” Elias grew more anxious, ready to have the plane fueled and in the air at that instant.

“Listen to me, Jonathan. These people, if they are who we think they are . . . well, let me just say that they are not nice. They do not play games. They do not take prisoners. They kill. Period.”

With that last statement, the phone went silent except for the faint sound of breath, passing haltingly from the other end. Elias could only assume he had finally hit home, that he got Stoner’s attention.

“OK, Sunday night, eight o’clock,” Stoner relented, his voice growing quiet.

“One last thing, Jonathan, make sure you lock all your doors and windows, and don’t open up the door to anyone you don’t know.”

The call ended after Elias and Stoner exchanged phone numbers, and agreed to meet at 8:00 PM on Sunday, October 26.

Upon finishing the call, Elias turned back toward the window.

“Eight weeks, almost nine by the time I get there – too much time,” Elias said as he watched the dark peregrine falcon swoop down toward the field beyond his back yard, zeroing in on it’s prey.

“I should be there now.”