Free The Night Falconer by Andy Straka Page A

the street. They disappeared into the alleyway between the buildings.”
    “You saw a guy with a bird? You’re sure?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “What kind of bird?”
    “Well, I’m not very good at identifying birds. It was big. I thought it might be some kind of eagle or something.”
    “What did you do then?”
    “I yelled out, ‘Hey! Hold up!’ But the guy didn’t even turn to look at me, just kept going.”
    “You see anybody else on the street, anything else unusual?”
    “Nope. It was kind of eerie, to tell you the truth. I went back inside and called the cops to report a prowler. A patrol car cruised by a couple of minutes later, but by then he was long gone.”
    “So you’re sure this was a man you saw running?”
    “Pretty sure, yeah. But I didn’t really get a look at his face. He was wearing, like, a baseball cap.”
    “Caucasian? African-American?”
    “Couldn’t really say.”
    “How was he holding the bird?”
    “He had something covering his hand. The bird was sitting on it, and he was holding the bird up and out, almost like you’d hold a torch.”
    “Could you make out any coloring on the bird?”
    She shrugged. “Not really.”
    “Was the bird still or moving? Did it spread its wings?”
    “No, sir. That thing was as still as a stuffed animal.”
    “Maybe it was a stuffed animal.”
    “No. That was it, you see? Just before they hit the alley, the bird turned its head around and looked at me. Like it was spinning on a swivel or something. I saw its eyes.”
    “What kind of eyes?”
    “Big yellow ones. It creeped me out.”
    “What about the profile of the bird’s head when it turned. Was the back of the head tapered or squared?”
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “What shape was the bird’s head?”
    She thought for a moment. “I don’t know, I was focused on those eyes.”
    “Sure.”
    “So hey, you think this guy’s out at night hunting with that bird?”
    “Possibly,” I said.
    “Some kind of weirdo. Are you going to try to catch him?”
    “We might?”
    “Mind if I tag along? That would be something to see.”
    I thought about it for a moment. An extra set of eyes might be useful, especially at night. But I decided we better not. “Thanks,” I said. “I think we’ve got enough hands on deck at the moment.”
    “Oh. Okay.”
    “But I appreciate the offer.”
    “Have you read the newspaper article about the missing pets?”
    “Sure. Everybody’s talking about it.”
    “If this man with the bird is responsible, how do you think he got the pets out of the building?”
    She shrugged. “They didn’t come by me or anyone else working the security desk, unless …”
    “Unless what?”
    “Unless it was someone who already lives here. They could’ve smuggled them out. People come by carrying all sorts of stuff, and it’s not like we search them when they’re going out or anything.”
    “Okay. That’s good. Anything else you remember that might be helpful?”
    She thought for a minute then shook her head. “No, not really.” She tapped her extra-long fingernails on the table, clearly ready to end the interview. The nails seemed out of sync with the rest of her, almost as if they were the remnants of a different kind of past.
    “Okay, just one more quick thing,” I said. “What’s it like working for Dominick Watisi?”
    “Mr. Watisi?” Her demeanor became all business again. “Well, you know, I don’t really have any direct contact with Mr. Watisi himself. I’m the senior guard here, but my supervisor’s up at Mr. Watisi’s office in Harlem. He reports to a vice-president who reports to Mr. Watisi.”
    “You’ve met the man though?”
    “Sure. A couple of times.”
    “How long have you been working for the company?”
    “Three years.”
    “Most of the people who work for the organization happy?”
    “I think so. The pay’s good and the hours aren’t bad. I’m taking classes toward my bachelor’s two nights a week.”
    “What