Occupational Hazards: Book 2 Kathy Sear & Greg Hawkins Series

Prologue

The young coyote slowly approached the small buildings close to a path that cut through the middle of his territory. He knew to avoid the building during the day and at night when the loud and fast moving monsters with their sun eyes approached. On occasion he would find a dead animal along the path that provided a quick and easy snack.

Even on a moonless night, the hundreds of bright stars provided more than enough light to move through the desert. The animal relied on his hearing and an acute sense of smell to guide him and locate prey.

Earlier a light wind blew the familiar odor of discarded hamburger and chicken across the open landscape until the scent cone intersected his nose. Normally he would hunt and find common rodents to serve as his next meal but when the diner bell from Wendy’s, McDonald’s, or KFC rang he took advantage of the opportunity.

The young male broke into a light trot and followed the scent as it led to the potential meal. He could travel in this manner for miles on end without unduly exerting himself, a slight lope and hop to his gait.

As he approached the small buildings he slowed to a near crawl across the large black parking lot; his senses rose to their highest alert. This is where the giant metal creatures would empty themselves of loud and bothersome humans. They would stop for a short time as the humans would scurry into the two buildings that smelled like urine; stretch, walk around a little, and then jump back into the metal creatures before darting away on the long and narrow path.

During the day they would put food scraps in metal barrels until they were over flowing. Other times they would meet at a table and have their meal before leaving. But at night they avoided this activity, probably because of what could be hidden by the darkness outside the reach of the light from the metal creature’s eyes.

The coyote didn’t fear the night so he followed the scent trail to a paper bag that held a cornucopia of treats; a mixture of a roasted chicken, with a lot of meat left on the bones, along with a half-eaten cheeseburger.

Within a minute he devoured the food and with a full belly the coyote relaxed. He detected countless scents where domestic dogs had left their calling cards so he quickly deposited his urine over these scents to reestablish his dominance. When his bladder ran low he pawed and scratched at the ground, making his warning clear to other non-humans.

The animal froze in place at a distant sound. He tilted his ears in an effort to pinpoint the direction of what sounded like a giant bee. In the distance he saw a small light approaching. By his prior experiences he knew this would be a small creature but one that still carried a human or two.

He gave an all over body shake, turned and trotted off into the desert with the same easy jog he arrived. He would be well on his way to his den before the human-carrying creature arrived.

A few minutes later the rider arrived at the entrance to the parking lot and eased into a spot close to the men’s toilet. After turning off the engine, the rider stepped off his motorcycle, removed his helmet and placed it over one of the mirrors. He stretched his back and let out a deep groan as his back let out a series of snaps, crackles, and pops.

He opened one of the luggage bags attached to the side of the bike and rummaged around until he retrieved a flashlight. He shined it around the area until he spotted a sign with the picture of a rattlesnake.

Beware of snakes dropping on you while to take a crap? Just wonderful, he muttered. He debated whether he should remove a small revolver loaded with scattershot but decided against it. He shined the light toward the small wood building with the big M on the front and decided he really didn’t want to tempt fate, especially since he hadn’t seen another car in over an hour.

He took a few steps away from the blacktop while he played the flashlight back and forth. Only after he was sure there weren’t any snakes in the area did he turn back toward the interstate. He stared north and then south, looking for the soft glow of approaching headlights while he listened for the sound of an engine approaching. He felt secure nobody was approaching before he turned his back toward the road. The last thing he needed was an arrest for indecent exposure.

When he finished, he walked back to his motorcycle shaking his legs to get the stiffness out and the circulation flowing again. He felt like massaging his butt to get rid of the numbness but that seemed a little too weird. There are some things men don’t do, even if nobody is around to see them do it.

He had left Albuquerque a little after midnight, not to avoid the mid-day heat but because he felt he had spent enough time in the city. He had been in the stands enjoying a minor league baseball game when out of the blue he decided it was time to move on.

Most people would get a good night’s sleep before beginning a drive but before he began his trip he decided he would hit the road when the time was right. He extended the courtesy of waiting until the last pitch had been thrown before heading back to his motel, packing, checking out, and heading south on the Interstate.

People take vacations to unwind, relax, and enjoy themselves. In this case it qualified more as a penance, a form of self-punishment for what happened before and what he took for granted. The selection of his motorcycle reflected that attitude. Eventually he settled on a super-sport bike without the luxuries and the comfort accessories that came with a cruiser.

He drove from state to state, seeing the sights he always wanted to visit under different circumstances. Custer’s Battlefield, Mount Rushmore, the blue football field at Boise State, Alcatraz, Las Vegas, and the Winslow Crater drew his attention over the last few weeks. Even though he rode by himself he never felt alone.

Often he would pull to the side of the road as waves of grief would wash over him, triggered by a familiar sight, a sound, or for no apparent reason. He remained until the sadness passed. Friends and colleagues told him anger would be part of the grieving and healing process, but that is one feeling he couldn’t bring himself to experience.

He wanted the trip to serve as a healing process where he could work things out himself without friends and neighbors offering support he didn’t want or advice he didn’t need. They would bring food that all looked the same; tasted the same; and smelled the same when he dumped them into the trash. The unexpected visitors even looked the same, all wearing the basset-hound eyed look of pity and sorrow as if they were robots straight off the assembly line of a factory.

He had to get away, so he bought a motorcycle and rode the country, going where he wanted at his own good time. He left his cell phone at his house and dropped a couple of letters in the mailbox as he left town. The notes gave the basics—he would be back when he felt like it, don’t think of contacting him, and don’t worry.

His doctor would also have blown his top if he knew his patient was driving around the country, much less on a motorcycle. But the rider figured he was a grown up and would take responsibility for his actions.

He figured he had enough time to swing through the deep south and follow the coast until he reached Maine. Having a Maine lobster had been on his bucket list of things to do and he figured it would be the cherry on the top of his sundae, if his trip could be characterized as such.

He stood in the New Mexico parking lot, still amazed at how bright the stars shined once the lights of civilization were taken out of the equation. Hundreds of years ago this is how the sky must have looked over the majority of the Earth. He wanted to remember this is one thing for the rest of his life—the true splendor nature put on display when the lights of civilization didn’t block it.

He stood by the motorcycle and gazed at the stars, watching some blink while others maintained a constant shine. Other than the soft ticking of the motorcycle engine as it cooled, the sounds of the desert seemed to take a short break as nature put on a visual display for one solitary man.

His eyes drifted to a small cluster of stars that seemed to sit apart from the others, with one star dominating. It wasn’t as bright as many of the others but for some reason it caught his attention and he found himself mesmerized by the soft glow it radiated.

The wind started to pick up, and a light cross breeze made the evening air more comfortable. The breeze increased into a constant flow, load enough for him to hear it flow past his ears.

In his loneliness he felt a presence, similar to one he felt other spots on his trip. The feeling closed around him like a blanket, providing him a sense of security he hadn’t felt in a while.

I miss you, he softly said while gazing at the star. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes and slowly made their way down his cheeks. Maybe it was the combination of him staring at the star, the wind blowing, and his lack of sleep that joined as one, but he felt more than heard a soft whisper by his ears. A sense of comfort and well-being settled in his core as the wind gradually faded away.

He blinked his eyes and used a handkerchief to wipe the tears from his face before looking back toward the star that held his attention for so long. But couldn’t find it again. He looked a little longer before chewing on his lower lip and letting out a deep sigh.

All of a sudden he felt very tired. Not sleepy or tired to the point he would fall asleep while driving, but his body and bones weighed heavy in his mind. He straddled the motorcycle and hit the ignition button and the engine greeted him with a soft, soothing roar as he slipped on his helmet.

This trip was his attempt to get away from all the sights, smells, and sounds that brought back memories. Even when the memories were good they would trigger feelings that pushed him into a dark morass that took days to climb out. As a result, his physical recovery slowed as well, despite the best efforts of his friends. In some perverse and twisted way their care and concern made the situation worse.

But now he had some of the answers—he wasn’t naïve to think he had all of them but a few are a good place to start. He knew he needed to get back to what he did best and face each day as it came. Get up each and every day and confront what the world had to offer.

He pulled back onto the road and headed south toward Las Cruces. He would get there in less than two hours where he would stay for a day to rest and prepare for his long trip home. He knew what his next step would be and realized Maine would have to wait for another time. Even though he felt worn out he knew the trip reinvigorated his body and soul, allowing him to heal much quicker than if he had stayed home.

Chapter 1

The first thing you noticed was the vibration. The Northern most bridge that spanned the Fox River and connected the east and west parts of Pineview had stood strong and solid for decades.

The heavy stones, with new steel support beams providing reinforcement, formed the three massive pillars - one on each side with one in the middle, holding the steel and concrete four-lane road securely in place. The engineers designed the bridge to hold vehicles twice the size of the main Army battle tank at that time.

The steel formed a criss-cross pattern and also served as the conductor of the vibration the people walking across the bridge experienced. The normal sounds of city life—the cars, people, and nature masked the vibration. But once ten o’clock at night rolled around and the last of the stores closed, the daily sounds died off leaving only the source to be determined.

An old concrete building, bleached a dirty white after decades of hot sun and frigid winters sat on the west side of the Fox River. Even from a distance passers-by could tell the building had seen better days. The corners of the building, once sharp and pointed at ninety-degree angles, took on a soft and rounded image.

Muffled music radiated from this building, first through the air with a muted but heavy emphasis on bass, and then through the ground.

In its glory days thirty years before, the Old Capitol Theater had been the place to be in Pineview to see the latest movie release. The theater boasted one movie screen, and a capacity large enough to seat hundreds in the main viewing area as well as several layers of balconies. The people who ran the ticket booth as well as the concession stand would shudder at the thought of more than one movie showing in the same building at the same time.

Saturday afternoons packed the house as Westerns with Roy Rogers or John Wayne entertained; then a few years later Science Fiction, and then finally cartoons. But with the explosion in growth of strip malls and the multi-plex the attendance of the Capitol drastically dropped off. They would still draw a good crowd on date nights as long as they were showing one of the must-see movies. But after the first weekend the crowds shrank to almost single digits.

The theater closed but because of its rich history nobody wanted to tear it down and as the center of downtown drifted away from the theater the land value decreased. Soon concert promoters, unable to find a place in Chicago that matched their requirements looked toward the suburbs and in Pineview, thirty miles west of Chicago, they found what they were looking for and more.

The Capitol offered superb acoustics allowing the people in the back of the theater or the highest balcony to hear stage actors, and promoters quickly fell in love with the building.

Rather than refurbish the theater to its original spender they limited repair work to satisfy fire and safety codes. Nobody cared if the place looked like a dump—they had most of the lights off so nobody attending the concerts cared.

With the popularity of techno-music, things clicked and a match made in heaven burst on the scene. Ear piercing loud music coupled with top level acoustics drew fans in droves. The location appealed to a large audience that didn’t want to spend hours fighting traffic and searching for expensive parking in Chicago.

Tonight the person playing the techno-music, more commonly known as spinning, had announced a new record deal earlier in the week so the Capitol was bursting at the seams with fans. Many of those attending had heard of the artist but a sizeable portion didn’t care who he was as long as the music played loud, they could dance and party until the sun came up, and nobody bothered them.

Bruce Waters stood on the balcony close to the premier spot—front right—that used to fetch the highest ticket price. From his vantage point he looked down on the crowd jammed on the main floor (with ninety percent of the seats removed) and the DJ as he spun the deafening techno music.

Bruce watched one DJ messing around with multiple turntables, a mother board, and a bunch of other electronic gadgets he didn’t understand. The guy played records of the same three or four sounds hundreds of times again and again and again but the crowd loved it. What is so difficult about that Bruce thought to himself as his eyes moved toward the real reason he came to the balcony.

Below him a thousand hot and sweaty bodies gyrated in synch with the music, some dancing or bouncing their heads, while others waved glow sticks in the near darkness. Even without the effect of drugs Bruce watched the sticks leave a light pattern and he could only imagine what it looked like for those on a drug-induced trip.

He didn’t notice the guys in the crowd unless they were with a girl. In that case he quickly ruled her out of possible consideration. He also mentally discarded girls who were in a group, sticking together like a pack of wolves ready to attack and devour anyone stupid enough to try and move in on one of their members.

He watched as two girls, dressed in the same outfit, did a tandem dance in perfect rhythm with each other. They looked like twin Barbie dolls in their black sweat pants and white v-neck shirts which were big enough to allow the gyrations they executed but small enough to accentuate their tits. He would have made a move on either one of them if they were by themselves but he saw they were in their own world; dancing with the eyes closed, oblivious to people even a few feet away.

Bruce came to these events solo with the intention of hooking up with a like-minded lady. The music sucked so bad he wore ear plugs and the drinks were way over-priced. The soles of his shoes stuck to the floor, the result of a variety of substances spilled or otherwise dumped (he didn’t want to know what those substances might be). He had a success rate of over seventy-five percent and the pickings tonight looked especially promising.

The fact he made his living as a dentist with lots on income proved to be to his advantage. More importantly, Daddy funded his education so he walked out of school debt free and walked right into a practice run by an old friend of the family. The friend looked to retire in a few years and wanted to hand off his business to someone he knew and liked.

Before he finished his initial scan of the main floor he felt someone lightly bush against him. His hand automatically checked for his wallet, then he looked over his shoulder to see who bumped into him.

He counted fewer than ten people. A couple stood on his right; the girl stood in front by the railing with the guy plastered up against her, their hips grinding into each other in a perverse form of foreplay. Bruce counted them out for the bump.

Bruce took a step back and looked past the couple and spotted the young woman as she walked toward the railing at the most forward portion of the balcony. The way she moved her hips froze him in place, staring at her, unable to get the full picture until she came to a stop.

Her blue jeans molded to the shape of her ass. Playboy center-fold or jeans model came to mind when he looked at the curve as it arched out and up in a shape that undoubtedly stopped men in their tracks when she walked past. Based on how tight her pants fit she was either wearing thong underwear or none at all.

His eyes slowly moved past her hips as she turned to the side, giving him a view of her hourglass waist and flat stomach. Her breasts, not obscenely big and definitely not too small, strained against her light blue shirt. They looked to be the perfect size for him to rest his head against after a few hours of playing naked twister. His eyes lingered on her left arm where a colorful tattoo caught his attention. A double strand of barbed wire circled her arm with a bright red rose intertwined on the outside of her arm.

Damn, he thought. I could bang that like a drum.

His view continued climbing past her long blond hair, past her chin to the face of an angel. Her perfectly aligned teeth, so white they stood out in the darkness, spread into a smile as she turned his way. He saw a glint in her blue eyes as they bore in on him before her smile widened and she gave him a cute wink.

Bruce quickly smiled back, thanking his lucky stars as he edged his way over to her. He remained cool and collected on the outside but wanted to shove the couple beside him out of the way and make a mad dash for her.

Once beside her, he casually leaned against the railing and gave her a smile and a nod. She responded by grinning again and brushing an errant strand of hair away from her eyes. Bruce motioned toward the DJ and then leaned closer so she could hear over the music.

What do you think of this guy? he asked, not really caring what she said but basing the next thing he said on her opinion.

I think he’s awesome, she replied, also yelling over the noise.

Yeah, he is good.

Actually, I think he sucks. Anyone can sit there and play records while pretending to create music. The last comment revealed a look of amusement to her face, almost to say Gotcha at the trick she pulled on him.

If she wasn’t so off-the-chart-hot, Bruce would have told her to take a jump off the balcony but he was willing to swallow a little pride if the evening resulted in a pay-off. He gave a shy grin, dipped his head and gave her a small bow, conceding the first point to his adversary.

He leaned forward again to ask her a question but had to hold up as the DJ decided to let loose with dueling air-horns, a feat that for some reason got the crowd yelling and screaming for more. Bruce rolled his eyes and was glad when she let loose with a laugh while jamming her fingers in her ears. Once the horns stopped blowing he leaned forward and yelled, My name’s Bruce.

She nodded and then leaned closer to his ear before responding. Do you want to waste time talking about worthless crap or do you want to get out of here and fuck?

The look of surprise on his face flashed for just a second before he yelled back. Is this where I say ‘waiter, check please’?

Five minutes later they stumbled out of the Capitol, amazed at how quiet the town seemed. Only after they started to talk louder than normal did they figure it was their hearing that was out of synch. Once their hearing came back to normal they decided she would follow him to Bruce’s house. She had thin walls and grumpy neighbors and didn’t want to wake them as she liked to get very vocal, as she gave Bruce another wink.

I’m parked down the block, as he pointed south. What about you?

She gave a pout as she thrust her thumb in the opposite direction. They stood there for a few seconds before her face brightened. How about you get your car and wait in the gas station on the other side of the river? It’ll only take me a few minutes to get mine.

Sure, that sounds fine.

I’ll be there in a flash sugar, she said with a grin that could melt a snowman at the North Pole. Don’t leave without me, she added, running her finger along his jaw before turning and heading for her car.

Bruce watched her ass as she walked away. She glanced over her shoulder to see if he was watching, which she knew he would be doing. He backed toward his car while keeping his eyes on her figure as she headed toward a large parking lot. He broke his concentration when he almost stepped off the curb into the path of a car filled with late concert arrivals.

Watch where you’re going doofus, a voice yelled from the car, followed immediately by three or four other guys laughing.

Bruce almost said something but decided not to ruin his mood. "Go ahead guys. Go to your pathetic concert while