“It’s working,” her father whispered, taking the first step to follow the stick’s movements. “Let’s see where it takes us.”
Carefully, Sonja followed his lead, moving with each step he took, heading along the strange and wobbling path created by the invisible force. The further they walked, the stronger the vibrations of the stick became. It was almost as if someone was actually holding onto the other end, pulling them like a dog on a leash, to their intended destination.
Glancing over at her father, she noticed he had his eyes closed, letting the motion of the stick completely take over his body. Sonja, while respecting her father’s choice, refused to close her eyes because she was afraid she’d trip—especially at the rate she was being pulled along.
At one point, the rod dipped, forcing them through a thicket of trees and down a hill. Sonja was getting the feeling that they were headed off the golf course proper and into the wilderness.
Her father never opened his eyes once or even flinched.
She didn’t know how he did it.
Finally, they reached the bottom of the short incline, just outside the edge of the seventeenth hole, and came into a clearing.
The rod reached a fever pitch of vibrations—making an audible whining noise—as it broke into splinters in their hands.
Instantly, Sonja gasped. Her father, opened his eyes.
Standing in the center of the clearing, almost completely hidden by the growth of bushes, vines, moss, and trees, was the burnt skeleton of a barn.
“No way,” she whispered, taking the sight of it in. “Is this . . .”
“The barn where they burned alive,” Sam finished the thought. “It’s still here, built right next to the golf course.”
“Oh my gosh.”
They both stood there in silence for a moment, taking in the shell of a building. Already, just standing outside, Sonja could feel the oppressive and overbearing aura the barn gave off. She wondered if it would be wise to go in or not.
Unfortunately, after coming this far, they knew they had to keep pressing on.
Without a single word to one another, they quietly made their way toward the open entrance of the structure. Standing close together, they linked arms for safety and security. She could feel her father’s accelerated heartbeat vibrating in his body. It made her feel better to know that he still got a little scared sometimes.
The instant they stepped through that doorway, Sonja felt a sickening weight develop in her stomach. The air was thick and heavy, like walking through water.
This spot was definitely haunted—filled with the oppressive energy of an angry family of spirits.
They moved carefully, using the moonlight through the missing roof to guide their steps.
A quiet giggle echoed in the air, and the two stopped cold. “That’s her,” Sonja informed her father. “The granddaughter.”
“Are you sure?” he whispered back.
She nodded. “Same voice.”
The giggle came again, this time from behind them. Spinning around, they spotted the glowing spectral figure standing in the doorway smiling at them through translucent lips. “Did you come to visit us?” the spirit asked.
Sonja glanced at her father who gave a nod of approval. Looking back at the woman, she smiled. “Yes,” she spoke in a calm tone. “We came to visit you, to help you.”
The woman’s smile grew wide, taking on a wicked bent. “We’d love your company. . . forever”
A crunch of foliage came from behind them followed by the sound of labored breathing. Carefully, the two paranormal investigators turned their heads to peer over their shoulders.
Then, they began screaming.
CHAPTER 14
* * *
Two charred and blackened skeletons stood there behind them, bits of old burnt clothing crumbling from their bones. As they breathed, puffs of ancient smoke escaped their hollow mouths.
A dry and sickened laugh came from one of them, crackling like burnt paper.
“Run,” Samuel shouted, bursting into a dash for the door.
Sonja quickly attempted to follow suit, only hoping they could make it past the ghost of the granddaughter. Almost as if in response to the very thought, the ghost suddenly burst into a blue pillar of flame, trapping them inside.
“Stay with us,” she screamed, her mouth opening wide to reveal a terrifying black hole of a mouth in the center of the inferno. “Stay with us forever.”
“Stay,” came the groan of one of the skeletons, also suddenly igniting like a candle.
“We’d love your company,” the female skeleton cried, joining her companion’s brilliant blue pyre.
“We have to get out of here. We can’t do anything for them,” Sonja’s father shouted.
“What do they want?”
“To burn us alive like they burned,” he told her. “We need to go now.”
“Where? We’re trapped.”
“The far wall,” he instructed her, trying to keep an eye on all three of the ghosts as they made their approach. “It looks weak. We can possibly break through.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said.
“Go now,” he demanded, “I’ll distract them.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be right behind you. Go!”
Only hesitating a second to glance at the freakish ghostly display, she ran at full speed toward the blackened wall her father had indicated. However, in her haste, she mistepped and took a tumble onto the ground, breaking through part of the wooden floorboard which had plants growing through it.
Groaning in pain, and gasping in terror, she pulled her wounded arm—scraped up from plunging into the floor—from the wood panel. As she did, she noticed something inside that looked like paper. She grabbed the item and jammed it into her jacket pocket.
“Get up, Sonja,” her dad cried.
Pulling herself to her feet, she ran toward the wall. Kicking with all her might, she managed to dislodge one of the old boards, sending it splintering into two pieces. She kicked two more times, making a hole big enough for herself to crawl through. Crouching low, she popped out the other side.
“Come on, Dad.” She waved at him to hurry. He was nearly surrounded.
Making one last effort, he burst in between the flaming skeletons, scorching his clothes as he did, and finally got to the hole.
Helping to pull him through, they escaped the horrific barn and dashed up the side of the hill back toward the golf course. Coming up onto the green, they didn’t stop running, afraid that the spirits were still close behind.
Coming around the side of a thicket of trees, they were instantly blinded by a wash of bright light—headlights—coming toward them.
The rev of a small engine propelled in their direction.
“Jump,” Sonja insisted, pushing her father down into the nearby sand trap just as the golf cart went whizzing by.
Looking back up at it, Sonja noticed that no one was driving it this time. “Hurry,” she exclaimed, pushing at him. “It’s coming back around.”
They got up out of the sand as the cart began to make its wide turn. It paused for a second and Sonja noticed a small camera attached to the underside of the roof turn to look at them.
Someone was watching.
“Run,” she shouted. Both of them made a b-line for the clubhouse as the cart began its crash course.
Despite its little engine, the small vehicle moved at an incredibly fast speed, much faster than the pair that was running to escape its path.
“Head for those trees,” Sonja indicated, pointing.
“Why?”
“Trust me.”
Doing as his daughter said, he ran toward the indicated thicket.
“Keep running straight at them. When I say, jump to the side.”
“Got it.”
“Ready?” she cried, as they got closer. “Ready? Jump!”
Both of them dove off to opposite sides right before entering the thicket.<
br />
Subsequently, the thundering noise of metal against wood, followed by a dying engine filled the air. The cart had crashed, completely totaling itself.
Glancing up from the grass, Sonja looked at the small camera, spinning in constant circles as it malfunctioned. Suddenly, a lightbulb turned on in her mind.
“I have an idea,” she noted. “I know how we can figure out who the murderer is.”
CHAPTER 15
* * *
Early the next morning, Sonja was back at the clubhouse again, sitting in her van with her father.
“I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of this earlier,” she said, holding up the business card Manning had given her days earlier.
“It’s true,” Frank added. “I’m surprised the police haven’t thought to look at security footage yet.”
Parking, Sonja shut off the engine. “Maybe they have? Maybe Greg already arrested the killer.”
“We can only hope.”
Getting out of the car, they were greeted by a young woman standing outside the front doors. “Deloris?” Sonja asked. “I believe we talked on the phone this morning.”
“You must be Sonja,” she replied with a big smile. “Deloris Upton, digital security technician here at the club.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she smiled, shaking her hand. “And this is my father.”
“A pleasure. Do you work with your daughter at the diner?”
“He does,” Sonja responded. It wasn’t a total lie. He had worked there once that last week. Sonja had convinced Deloris to meet with them and show them the club’s security system on the pretense that she was interested in installing a similar system at the diner.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll be very interested in what I have to show you. Our system is top of the line.”
“We’re thrilled to see what you have to offer.”
“Shall we head inside?”
Sonja smiled her agreement.
“Right this way.”
“So, you’re in charge of all security footage archives here at the club?” Sonja asked.
“Yep, and also in making sure the system is maintained and up to date. In fact, we recently had the whole thing overhauled thanks to some vandals on the grounds.”
“That’s what I was told.”
“It’s a good thing, too. Our camera’s caught footage of the recent murder of Mr. Manning,” she informed them, using it as a selling point.
“They did?”
“We were able to show that footage to the police yesterday afternoon. Crystal clear pictures providing hard evidence of any potential crime. That’s the kind of service our system can provide.”
“So, did Deputy Wilkins figure out who the murderer is?”
“Unfortunately, I’m not at liberty to give out that information.” Heading up the stairs, they found themselves outside Manning’s office. “While I have archive rights, only Mr. Manning’s computer has the capabilities to manage the entire system top to bottom. If there were ever a serious problem, a system malfunction or shutdown, I would have to come here.”
Stepping into the room, she took a seat behind the desk.
“I’ll duplicate my screen to show you what I’m looking at on the flat screen on the wall there,” she indicated, pointing across the room.
After a few clicks and typing, an image appeared. There were countless smaller images, much like multiple TV screens, all lined up in a grid on the screen. “As you can see here, the system has an easily accessible program which includes all the cameras around the club. Here at the top of the page is a time bar.” She moved her mouse over a menu where you could type in a date and time. “Right now, these cameras are live, but if you wanted to look up a specific time you’d simply type it in here and all of the cameras would show the archived footage.”
“Wow, can I try it?” Sonja asked, moving around the desk.
“Go right ahead,” Deloris offered, moving aside.
Sitting down, Sonja typed in Sunday’s date along with her estimated time of when the murder had likely occurred. She pressed play, examining all the tiny screens for any shred of evidence. Then she spotted it in the bottom right corner.
“What if I want to see only a specific camera angle?” she asked.
“Just click on the image.”
Sonja did just that, bringing up the archived footage she was looking for. The image of the cart zooming by the trees, the hooded figure bent over the wheel, played over the screen.
The hooded person never turned to face the camera, always keeping their features hidden. The number 01 was painted on the side of the golf cart’s body.
“The picture really is crystal clear,” she complimented, glancing over at her dad to make a note of the number. She closed the big image, rewinding the time and scouring the other clips for clues.
“Check out the detail here,” Sonja said, jumping to another clip she’d spotted. It showed Paxton Manning standing near the bathroom doors, his cart nearby. “You can see every detail of that bandana tied to the golf club in the back of that cart.” She pointed it out. This meant that Manning wasn’t wearing the bandana at all. Again, the cart in the image was labeled 01.
Sonja deduced that the murderer came up, argued with the victim, then grabbed the bandana and choked him to death. Then they dragged the body into the back of the cart and drove off, stealing the cart.
That meant it was the same cart that tried to run them down the night before.
“Oh my, I’m so sorry,” Deloris cut in, moving to the computer and stopping the footage by hitting the space bar.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.
“This portion of the footage was supposed to be locked,” she informed them, only having just realized the mistake.
Sonja moved out of the way to allow the woman to sit down. “I must have accidentally added my override code when I logged in just now. My sincerest apologies. Give me just a moment and we can look at archive footage from a different point.”
“Why was it locked?” Sonja asked, already knowing the answer.
“Police footage only.” She clicked away from the time stamp and found another clip from earlier that morning. “There we go. How about this?”
Leaning on the desk, Sonja felt some papers slide under her hand. Glancing down, she saw a pile of folders there and remembered Manning pointing them out during their conversation the week before.
Noticing the name on the top folder, she raised an eyebrow. B. Riley. Her mouth dropped open and the clues clicked in her mind. She knew who the murderer was but just needed to make sure.
“Manning mentioned how every golf cart is on a remote-controlled system.”
“That’s correct. For safety and security of the members, we can control the carts from here. So, if a vandal drives one off and dumps it, we can pilot it back home.”
“Is it possible for a cart to go renegade all on its own?” she asked.
At this, Deloris raised a curious eyebrow. “It’s unlikely. Our system is the most advanced on the market. Our remote-control radios have lockouts in case of emergency.” Leaning over the desk, Deloris pulled up another program. “This computer has access to all the carts in the fleet, but that isn’t an option I assume you would use at the diner.” She chuckled.
Sonja glanced at the folder on the desk again and then back up at the screen. “Who has access to this program?”
“Only myself, Paxton Manning, and Manning’s caddy.”
“Bill Riley,” Sonja said out loud.
CHAPTER 16
* * *
As soon as they had walked out of the office, Sonja had dialed Frank. It turned out he had arrived in town only moments prior. Sonja told him that she thought she knew who the murderer was, and asked if he could come to the clubhouse.
Frank complied, and instructed her to give Greg a call as well.
Minutes later, both officers were in the lobby with Sonja. Greg was in his uniform and Frank was in his civilian clothes, as
he had driven over to the club first before going home.
“Sheriff, I’m glad you could make it back so soon. I’m sorry about your trip,” Greg said.
“It’s quite all right,” Frank told him.
“Sonja, I’m glad to see you’re still doing okay,” Greg told her. “When you called, I was afraid something had happened.
“Something has happened.”
Turning to Sonja, Frank folded his arms. “Sonja, you said you had new information for us concerning the murder of Paxton Manning?”
“Deloris was just showing me the security system they have set up here, in case we want to install a system at the diner.”
Frank raised an eyebrow skeptically. “And?”
“And I saw some things that made me realize who the murderer is. Deloris accidentally opened the locked police footage.” It was technically the truth. They didn’t need to know that Sonja had purposefully pulled up the time stamp in question.
“Greg, have you viewed this security footage?”
“I did. I went over it yesterday with Deloris and had her send the files over to the station.”
“Good.”
“But I didn’t see anything that would give us a definite hold on the murderer.”
The sheriff didn’t look so happy but decided to humor his girlfriend’s speculation for a few minutes. “Okay, tell us what you have, Sonja. We’ll take it from there.”
She then proceeded to explain what she had learned to the two men.
* * *
After verifying some of the facts in Sonja’s story, the sheriff and his deputy were prepared to confront the suspect.
Walking into the lounge of the clubhouse, Greg took the lead at Frank’s request, carrying the folder labeled B. Riley under one arm. Since the deputy had been the one to do most of the investigation, Frank only felt it was right for Greg to make the arrest.
Just as they had suspected, Bill Riley was standing over one of the tables where a few club members were playing poker, asking if he might join them. “It’s not going to hurt you, gentlemen, to let me play a round with you,” he was arguing. “In fact, you’ll likely win more money that way.”
Hole-In-One Waffle (The Diner of the Dead Series Book 17) Page 6