Eyes for Fury

Contents

Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

Cast of Characters

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Previous Titles

Foreword

by Jim Hunter

I have always found it a challenge to put words to paper. Term papers were always a struggle from high school through law school. Forget about creative writing. My work requires writing and I am daily facing this challenge. Of course, after years much of the writing is easier as I have become accustomed to the material. The computer and word processing are a godsend. I can edit as I write and produce a foreword like this that appears far more cogent than the scattered thoughts of which it is composed. But to put original thoughts together and create characters and spin a compelling story out of whole cloth? That is a gift I can see in others but with which I have not been so blessed.

I do, however, love to read and am amazed at the ability of writers who can spin those stories. My tastes are broad and I am forever in the debt of those whose work and thoughts bring me such enjoyment and insight. I tend to read slowly so I can absorb not only the material, but the style of the author.

I have found there is an intimacy between an author and the reader. I am convinced the author reveals much about himself in his work. If you care to look you can learn a great deal about the person. Even a person you already know.

My earliest memories of Mike Haszto are of elementary school at St. John of God in Central Islip, on Long Island in the late ‘60’s and early ‘70’s. They are mostly of an athletic kid: sweaty, shirt tail out with a wide victorious grin. He was a favorite of the nuns and a terror in jail-break.

The school yard was daily a tough proving ground. What happened yesterday was history. Except the respect for yesterday’s victories usually translated into the next day’s privilege of choosing sides. That’s when you knew who your friends were. You learned how much respect you earned from previous contests.

Mike was usually picking and I was hoping to get picked. More often than not we played on the same side. Mike had a soft spot for the underdog. He always did things his own way. Often he was underestimated for that independent streak. But he always seemed to be the guy the next day picking sides. And I kept getting picked. I knew Mike was a friend.

We went to high school together and remained friends. I am sure during four years in St. Anthony’s High School we took many classes together. And I am certain Mike was a bright student and we shared many fun times. But again, my most vivid memories of Mike took place on the fields of competition. A talented but hard worker; he was an All-American soccer player and an All-League centerfielder. We played baseball together and ran track on the same relay team. Mike was certainly an accomplished athlete. But I never thought he would become an accomplished author.

I guess the signs were there, but who knew? In high school, cafeteria time was frequently spent with our heads in books; finishing homework or reports, maybe copying notes from a missed class. Mike would write poems.

Free-wheeling conversations stretched the bounds of imagination and propriety. Mike would laugh and write things down. While I was fairly certain he was not jotting down our creative ditties (we never got in trouble for them); he rarely shared with us the things he wrote. And he was way too big to force the issue. He would sit there eating cookies and smile.

After high school we drifted apart. Our lives would take separate paths through college and beyond. He wound up at the University of Akron in Ohio and stayed there. After a brief detour to the University of Georgia I wound up back on Long Island. Mike invited me to his wedding, but I was busy with law school. Mutual friends thinned out and before long I had lost touch with him. It would be twenty-five years before I would hear from Mike Haszto again. We would start families and move through careers. And independently maintain a nostalgic affinity for that unique time on Long Island and the years of our youth spent there. A comforting nostalgia; familiar to me now as a fan of his work.

The social network is a wonderful thing. The electronic age has made the world a much smaller place. A couple of years ago I reconnected with Mike. Searching a class reunion site I found his name among the list of classmates from St. Anthony’s and reached out to him. We have renewed our friendship and Mike has visited Long Island a couple of times.

During the course of becoming reacquainted I learned Mike was a writer. I looked him up and bought a couple of his books. I figured it would be cool to read something a friend published. I have followed Mickey and Jimmy and the crew at V103 through Radio Free Mickey and Life on Side B. I have enjoyed the poetry of Pieces of the Heart and A Warm Breeze While Under Palm Trees. I have experienced the thrill of seeing my name appear as a character in Eyes of Fury, Blood and Ice: Tales of 32 Years from the Crease, and Long Road to Hero. I was even able to share the thrill with my son Jack and my wife Elaine when their names appeared as characters, as well. I have enjoyed the journeys and related to the challenges and travails of a list of characters for whose success or happiness I found myself rooting.

The greatest thrill, however, has been reading these works of my friend. It has provided me a window into his life and soul. So much of the Mike Haszto I knew as a kid and the Mike Haszto I have come to know as an adult is woven through his books and poetry. Across the pages of his books I read of his aspirations and achievements. The passions and vulnerabilities in his poetry are authentic. The conflicts and struggles of his characters speak to an acute understanding of the human condition. And the recurring theme of resilience reminds me of the Mike I grew up with.

Each book has been better than the last. They have been filled with suspense, humor, heartbreak and hope. Mike is perfecting the art of writing and we get to come along for the ride. I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to read this book.

Yes indeed. You can learn a great deal about a writer, even one you already know.

Jim Hunter,

An Old Friend

Note- I asked Jim about the foreword of this book and he gladly volunteered. I gave him no boundaries, no limits, and no expectations from me. I gave him free reign of topic with absolutely no idea what he would say.

I asked Jim about the foreword of this book for a couple of reasons. He’s an incredibly intelligent person who has accomplished incredible things with his life. He’s an avid reader with a keen mind for a story and a unique sense of awareness and depth in comprehending between the lines, who can hold an author accountable and humble with his honest critiques. But I also asked Jim about the foreword to this book because I hold him at the highest regard and standard possible for his loyal friendship and his strong character.

His Foreword brought me back to our childhoods where I also cherish those memories, though I have a slightly different memory in that Jim was every bit of an athlete and a leader amongst our school years, and that whether I was the one picking sides or he was (and he did so often as well), I was always proud that we were on the same team a vast majority of the time.

I’ve always held Jim as one of my closest friends, a person who has always been able to step up to the plate and take on a challenge, and I’m proud to say that. You are one of the most adaptable and versatile people I’ve ever met. After all, playing all of the characters that you’ve played over the past few books…I can’t wait to turn them into movies…and have you play each of those roles in person…

My friend, Thank you for the Foreword.

Chapter 1

A two engine propeller plane roared through the skies heading southward from Tampa Bay. The distinct sound it was enduring was not just from the engines on each side of the plane, but from each individual who was primed for their trip to paradise. All nineteen passengers had a story to tell as to why they were on the plane. Most of them were commenting on their stories the more the plane headed south.

One was not.

A long legged brunette had other things on her mind that occupied her time in the atmosphere. Those were certain other things that she had endured over the past year or so. Her look was focused and not relaxed in the least bit. Her brown eyes were hard and cold with red veins popping in both. She in fact looked as though she didn’t belong.

But, she was there on a mission…

She nervously scratched her right wrist as she looked out of the plane’s window. She checked her watch so often that a passenger across from her thought she had a nervous tick.

You okay miss? No need to be nervous. It should be a smooth flight all the way there.

She looked over, nodded her head and turned back toward the window. Looking down over what land was left, she dimly smiled and lightly sighed. She tried to adjust the air conditioning flow from above her head. It was flowing so lightly that she could barely feel it. The plane was hot with the sun beating in from the other side. Her stomach felt queasy, yet there was no way that she would turn back now.

Yes, I really want to do this… she thought.

She waited a moment and smiled faintly again.

"Yes, I really need to do this…" she conceded.

The plane was full of conversation of what to expect upon arrival in paradise. She, though, had no trouble whatsoever in going over her things to do list in her mind. She also had no trouble remembering why she was on the plane in the first place.

It was about a year ago that she had returned home from running an errand to find three envelopes on her kitchen table. One envelope was earmarked for Heather, one for Buck, and the third was labeled for Peggy.

Following a week of tears that came about from the contents of those envelopes, Peggy and her children made the firm decision to move ahead without looking for any further explanations as to how and why those envelopes came about. It took about that week’s time for the three of them to get past what Eric, husband and father to them, had done.

It then took about a half hour to set up bank accounts and deposit the checks he had left for each of them.

Of course, the hurt wouldn’t go away. Peggy was totally caught off guard by the whole scenario that Eric had played out. She couldn’t reason how anyone married for so long, in a seemingly perfect family setting, would even think about doing such a thing, let alone actually executing it. The whole time continually played over and over in Peggy’s mind for weeks and into months. She was so absorbed in this ritual that obsession would have been a strong understatement. Even after the week of family tears and then the depositing of their checks, Peggy couldn’t move forward. Who could blame her?

Heather and Buck, Eric’s children, also were left in shock and disbelief. Although away at college through almost this whole episode, neither could believe that it had played out like it did.

It just didn’t make sense to anyone.

What was more shocking was that in each of the envelopes was a check. How could that be? And how much was it for? Both Heather and Buck looked at their check for a million dollars and dismissed it as phony. There was no way that either was going to believe that. They both thought what kind of stunt is Dad playing here? He left for real and he left us a million dollars? What the hell??? Fact is, Buck was ready to tear it up. He didn’t think it was real and he sure didn’t think that it was funny. Heather, who was very much in the same boat as Buck, had to talk him down.

Peggy received a check for two million dollars. She didn’t care. All she wanted was Eric back. She was as torn up as anyone could ever be. Well, she wanted him back for the first week so desperately that she became quite stomach sick. Heather and Buck both needed to stay in Great Bend and nurse her back to some type of calm, sane level of functioning.

That was then.

Now Peggy was on a plane a year later with a very good idea on where to find Eric. Her look was determined. Her spirit was even more so. As the plane traveled over the water, she came to grips with the whole thing. And although there were still quite a few pieces missing from her completed puzzle, she had only one objective in her mind. That objective was to find her husband.

What then? What was she going to do when she finally caught up with him? Confront? Take him back? Possibly get revenge of a sort? Torture? The Lord knows that she had felt all of that and so much more over the past year.

Still, she had absolutely no idea. She figured whatever would happen would just happen…naturally.

Sure, there were times over the past year where each emotion took turns in ruling her life. There was denial. There was rage. There was emptiness. There was hurt. There were questions…lots of questions. And, of course, there were quite a few streaks of evil mixed in.

But she wasn’t really concerned with how she would react to seeing him. She plainly wanted to see him. She wanted to see everything about him. She wanted to see how his life was coming along, and just who was the person he was enjoying it with.

Peggy didn’t know for sure who the other person was, but she had an idea. When she had spoken with Chad Reese the very next day after finding the envelopes, she realized that Chris hadn’t shown up for work at Eric’s construction company. Putting two and two together, she just figured that Eric had run off with his flirty assistant.

But why? Peggy didn’t think that Chris was Eric’s type, that’s for sure. But who would have guessed that Eric and Chris disappearing like that at the same time? She didn’t have proof so she really didn’t know for sure, but that’s what she thought.

So, she was preparing herself to see both of them, not just Eric.

She continued to scratch her wrist and check her watch. Again, the man sitting across the aisle to her left commented.

Miss, are you okay? Are you just nervous or is there really something wrong? Can I help you?

Again, she looked over, nodded and turned away.

The passenger continued to watch her. His concern was genuine. There was no flight attendant on the tiny aircraft, just a pilot and co-pilot. So there was no chance at a beverage or a snack that could help distract someone from being anxious and nervous.

Peggy was traveling alone. With the exceptions of Heather and Buck, no one knew where she was heading or why. It had been a long year for all three of them with the disappearance of Eric and then trying to answer all of the questions that came up concerning Eric and his whole life. With him disappearing like that, it seemed there were many people asking questions about him.

So under the auspices of a long needed vacation, she set out to find him.

Of course, in this mammoth world we live in, just where would she start? That would be a great question to ask.

Eric never gave a serious inclination where he would go if he had an opportunity. Peggy had no idea where to look. North, west, east, or south…any direction was a distinct possibility.

Peggy was guarded as to announce the news of Eric’s disappearance to the world. She struggled with the idea of alerting the authorities, but quickly realized that if she had, there would be much stronger ramifications placed on her and her children as well as Eric.

For one, even if their marriage couldn’t be saved, he would most certainly be brought up on charges of fraud. Peggy bought into the story that Eric was indeed blind, though she had serious doubts after reading the letters he had written to her and the kids. Another was not only losing Eric to jail, but also the fact that Peggy and her children would have to give back their share of it. While in Peggy’s honest mind that wasn’t that big of a deal, the economic hardships and the fact Eric would go to prison would break the family apart.

It was that reason that she decided after that first week to hire a private investigator. She knew something needed to be done and it just so happened that the timing was near perfect.

Rich Fabian was a retired Navy officer who studied for his second career upon leaving the Navy. Born and bred in the Chicago suburbs, he discovered the plight of Peggy Chatham quite by accident.

He was a friend of Kevin Priest, who was a foreman with Chatham Construction Company. In a casual conversation the two of them were having, Kevin had mentioned how the construction company was going through a transition based on what Eric Chatham had done. That conversation led down several different paths, eventually leading to Peggy Chatham and an offer to get to the bottom of what happened. After much thought and personal debate, Peggy agreed to hire Rich in an effort to find Eric and get some answers.

That was not as easy a challenge as either had hoped.

Hence, the plane that Peggy was on now was quickly approaching its destination. She continued to look out of the window and marvel at the scenery, which amounted to clear ocean waters and tiny islands. Those tiny islands had a vast majority of sandy beaches and palm trees, something that before this day Peggy had only seen on television. For some reason, she had stopped scratching at her wrist and slowed down the frequency of checking her watch.

The man across from her downgraded his alert from red to yellow in watching her. The rest of the flight went as smooth as the beginning. The landing approach was flawless.

It was a beautiful cloudless day as the wheels of the small plane touched down silky smooth to the airport runway. Peggy let out a sigh of relief and proceeded to grin. Her date with destiny was about to happen. And nervous as she was, she didn’t care. She knew that nervousness was about to be transformed into energy.

The Cayman Airways flight was right on time and taxied quickly up to the gate at Owen Roberts International Airport. Peggy was the fourth person off of the plane and scooped up her solo bag after going down the twelve steps from the plane’s door. She walked briskly in the ninety plus degree heat coming off of the asphalt, working up a bit of a sweat as she entered the terminal.

While Peggy was pushing fifty, she displayed the energy of someone twenty years younger. And, of course, she still looked the part of a thirty year old. Heads turned as she exited the airplane for the terminal, and once inside, heads continued to turn.

Unfortunately, part of her plan was already shot to death she realized. She had wanted to arrive without any fanfare or notice. But honestly, when someone who is Caucasian, five foot eight inches tall and weighing in at approximately one hundred and twenty pounds, all proportionately distributed walks by, one can’t help but to ask where the Miss Mature Universe Pageant is being held…

She definitely stuck out. Whether it was her mannerisms, how she carried herself with a firm urgency in a laid back culture, or simply her natural beauty, the fact is Peggy didn’t fit in there. Everyone noticed.

Following a short visit to the restroom, she walked down the corridor to the car rental place. While in the restroom, though, she gave herself a good look in the mirror as she washed her face. She noticed her eyes, the bulging redness of some of those veins and probed them a bit. She then studied her brown areas as if she was looking into her soul. A few seconds later, she rewashed her face and eyes and was on her way. It was as if she was just confirming again that she was ready to accept the challenge of finding Eric and whatever consequences followed were going to follow…

Chapter 2

It was interesting how this all came about. Eric Chatham literally had it all. And his behavior through twenty years of marriage, raising two wonderful kids, and owning his own construction company was testimony to that. Their choice of living in Great Bend, Kansas was a conscious decision that was made by both of them. All in all, they were a standards oriented happy family who carved out their little paradise in life.

So what happened?

After Eric’s sudden departure, there was a lot of speculation and talk amongst the townsfolk. After all, one doesn’t live in a small town like Great Bend anonymously. Everyone knows everyone else’s business in some way or another.

But what really happened?

Some people have speculated that the day that Eric met and hired Chris Becka as his office administrative assistant was when the pieces to the puzzle started to come into focus. Chad Reese, his right hand man at Chatham Construction though, would not testify to that. Neither would his left hand man Kevin Priest. Yet, as