Mystery of the 19th Hole (Taylor Kelsey, Mystery 1) (17 page)

             
The man was about to pick her up and shove her in the cruiser when a girl one-hundred paces off screamed, “Hey.”  Instinctively, the man jumped into the car and sped out the lot, turned left, and disappeared down the road.

             
Bullets were thrashing through the cluster of trees and coming uncomfortably close the Jeff and Chad.  “We’ve got to move,” the lieutenant conceded, pulling a gun from under his sports coat.

             
“Move where?” yelled Chad, trying to speak over the gunshots, which were nearing and splitting the air like stabs of lightning.

             
“Uh…  How about a sand bunker?”

             
“Okay.”  Chad was looking around frantically.  “There’s a small one behind that next hole.”

             
“Good enough.  Hand me the concussion grenade.” 
What we could really use is a smoke grenade,
Jeff thought as he put out his hand.

             
Chad pulled the pin off the grenade, jumped out of the trees, and threw it toward the men.

             
“Or throw it yourself,” muttered Jeff.

             
Boom!
  The grenade exploded, dizzying the men.  Jeff and Chad ran for the end of the fairway.  It was only seconds later when the gunshots started up again, though only two of the men were shooting, for the rest were still dazed. 

             
It wouldn’t be long before the others recovered.

             
When the gunshots finally increased, Jeff and Chad were already on the green.  Chad dove headlong into the pit, and Jeff threw himself down and rolled into it.

             
Turf blasted up in a spot he’d just rolled away from.  “That was close.”

             
“You’re telling me,” said Chad.

             
The lieutenant was bobbing up and down now, firing shots and trying to evade fire.

             
Chad flipped open his computer.

             
“What are you doing?” asked the lieutenant.

             
“I’m patching into the golf course’s security cameras to see the men.  That way you can blind fire with use of the camera.”

             
“Can you do that?”

             
“Blind fire?  I’ve never shot a gun before.”

             
“No,” said Jeff, “not blind fire.  Patch into cameras.  You can do that?”

             
“Yeah.”

             
“Legally?”

             
Chad stared up at Jeff for an awkward moment.  A bullet ripped into some turf nearby, and Chad started typing into his computer.  “Almost got it…”

             
“I think they’re getting closer,” yelled Jeff.

             
“Why do you say that?”

             
Jeff popped his head over the hill, quickly ducked back down, and rested against the bank of the bunker.  “Because they’re getting closer.”

             
“I’m almost finished.  By the way, how long do you need to hold them off before we can run away?”

             
“Until Taylor and Susan come back with help.  But you’re free to go at anytime.”

             
“I’m not going anywhere.”  After some more typing, Chad smiled.  “I’m in the system.”

             
Abby Adamson had watched as Susan tumbled to the floor, shot in the leg.  She had also watched as the man in the mask kidnapped Taylor and sped out of the parking lot.  Turned left.

             
She acted on instinct and immediately darted into the clubhouse.  “Dad!  Dad!”

             
Her dad popped up from behind the counter, a terrified look on his face.  Abby spoke fast, “A girl got shot in the leg outside!  You need to help her.  I’ve got to go after Taylor.”  Without another word, Abby took off running.

             
Mike looked outside.  Satisfied the gang of gunners was gone, he grabbed a first aid kit and ran to Susan’s side.  He knew what he was doing, for he was a retired firefighter.  Fortunately, the bullet merely clipped the side of her leg instead of going through it.  Albeit the wound was large.  Susan was still passed out.

             
During all this, Abby had gotten in her car and turned left out of the parking lot, going the same way Taylor had been taken in the police car.  She sped and passed cars on the two-lane road until she caught up with the police cruiser.  The cruiser was going slow, probably trying to avoid unwanted attention.  She slowed as well.

             
Taylor gave up banging on her door.  It was a police car, designed to harbor criminals.  In other words: no use.  “What are you doing?  Where are you taking me?” Taylor screamed.

             
The masked man just sat in silence for some time.  Finally, he pulled off his mask and set it on the passenger seat, turned around.  Taylor gasped.  It was the captain of the police.  “Captain Tony Hamell!  You’re in on it!”  She’d solved the case already, but this was a new revelation.  Now she new why she’d felt uneasy.  There was a mole in the police department!

             
“So you shot Billy?”

             
“Yes.”

             
“You were in on it all along.”

             
The captain looked into the rear-view mirror.  “So you did solve the case.”

             
“Yes I did,” said Taylor.

             
“I thought you already knew about me.  That’s the only reason I grabbed you.  I guess I’ll still have to kill you now that you know.”

             
Taylor fell quiet and looked out her window.  What could she do?  She’d solved the case, but that wasn’t of any importance now.  Susan had been shot in the leg.  Jeff and Chad were holding off the ring of robbers.  And the ringleader himself was Captain Tony Hamell of the Formstaw police.

             
Add to all that she was wearing yellow. 

But that was the last thing on her mind.

             
Deep in thought, she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings; but when the car transitioned onto a dirt road, she looked around.  They started passing through eucalyptus trees.  The trees were spaced apart and sunlight pervaded the area.  The road and surrounding ground was soft dirt.

             
And they continued, deeper and deeper.

             
Dust rose up all about them.  The car was moving slower over the bumps.  Turning a bend, Taylor could see where they were headed.  The ocean.  When they came out of the trees and into the open she saw a house.  The house was floating on the water.  A house on a dock.  She’d seen one before in a television show.

             
The cruiser pulled to a slow stop just before the house.  Taylor looked through the back window, but the dirt road they’d just come from was pitifully barren of rescue cars.  A horrifying feeling rose up in her gut.

             
Her door opened and the dishonorable captain yanked her out and pushed her forward.  He had a gun trained on her head.  “Go in the house.”

             
Abby had followed the police car to the dirt road before letting it get ahead, so as not to be obvious that she was following.  After the car had turned the first bend, she started after it.  She had stayed one bend behind the entire time.

             
Now she was out of the car, hiding behind a tree and watching the police captain—of all people!—push Taylor into the house on the water.  She knew that this is where he was going to kill her: far away, out of sight, in an old, abandoned house on a dock.  Abby herself had been in the house once before because of a dare.  It was mostly just wood inside.  Some old furniture.

             
Abby ran across the open for the house.  Walking tentatively, she stopped before the doorway and poked in her head.  The captain was tying Taylor to the metal stairway railing.  The stairs led to a small loft.

             
She continued watching as the captain showed Taylor a bomb, which looked like a small box with a timer on the face.  He was explaining what would happen to her and how he was planning to get away with it.

             
Abby thought this was as good a time as any.  She ran through the door and side-kicked Hamell as hard as she could.  Hamell went flying and crashed onto the floorboards.  Hard.

             
Taylor was smiling.  Abby smiled back.  But Hamell got up.  “Watch out, Abby!”

             
The captain pulled out his gun, but Abby grabbed the barrel and shoved it into his waist.  Pushing him backward, she spun the gun out of his hand, bending his trigger finger back until it broke with a crack.  Taylor recalled Abby saying she knew Karate.

             
Now Abby had the gun in hand, and she aimed it at Hamell.

             
“Let’s not be hasty,” he started to say, but then he tackled Abby at the waist and took her to the floor.  His weight crushed her, and the gun slipped from her hand and slid across the wooden floor.  Hamell rose and harshly yanked Abby next to Taylor.  Abby was breathing heavy and groaning at every yank and pull.

             
The captain tied her to the railing, rubbed his hands together in relief, and returned to his bomb.

             
“Like I was saying”—he started twisting small knobs on the bomb—“I’m setting a timer.  Ten minutes should do.  I’ll go back to the police station, and when you two blow up into pieces, I’ll have an alibi.  Good plan wouldn’t you say?”

             
“Bad plan,” said Taylor, “because the lieutenant knows you’re a dirty cop.”

             
Hamell laughed so loud Taylor was almost sure someone had heard.  But that was probably wishful thinking.  “The lieutenant doesn’t know right from left,” Hamell was saying, “I doubt he figured out I’m in on the robberies.  I chose him as lieutenant for this very reason.  He’s dumb!”

             
“I told him.”

             
“You didn’t even know until I told you,” he said.

             
“Or I just pretended not to know.  What do you think?”

             
“You’re bluffing.”

             
“I’m not saying one way or the other,” said Taylor.  “I’m just posing the question.”

             
“Did you tell Jeff?” yelled Hamell, huffing.  “Did you tell him?”  A beat.  “You better answer me, little girl or—”

             
“Or what?  You’ll kill me?  It looks like you are doing that already.”

             
The captain grunted, then started twisting knobs on the bomb again.  “I’m setting it for fifteen minutes.  That’ll give me time to kill Arterman and get to the station for my alibi.”  He leaned the bomb against a far wall so Taylor and Abby could watch the countdown.

             
“Adios.”  Hamell stepped out, and they listened to his car’s engine start and eventually fade away in the distance.

             
Abby, looking at the bomb, said, “Sorry.  I don’t know what happened.  I could have shot him, I—”

             
“No you couldn’t have,” said Taylor.  “You’re too nice to shoot someone.  I couldn’t have done it either.”

             
“Yeah, but now we’re going to die.”

             
A few tears rolled down Taylor’s cheeks. 

Abby started crying too.

             
“I don’t think this is working,” shouted Jeff.

             
“You’re not trying hard enough,” responded Chad.

             
His back against the embankment, Chad had his laptop open on his lap.  He was looking at several camera angles of the gang of men approaching them.  Jeff was holding his gun with both hands, resting it at the top of the embankment overhead.  This way there was no possible way he could be shot.

             
Chad looked at Jeff, then the computer screen, then Jeff.  “Move your gun a little to the left,” he said.  “No, not too much.  Right there.  That’s perfect.  Shoot!”

             
Jeff pulled the trigger.  Nothing happened.  Out of ammo.  The lieutenant reached into his sports coat pocket.  After finding nothing, he frantically checked his other pockets.  He finally found a magazine in one of the inside pockets.