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

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Mystery of the 19th Hole (Taylor Kelsey, Mystery 1) Page 7

by Diaz, AJ


  “Taylor! Turn the wheel! Turn the wheel!”

  “Which way?” she yelled.

  “Any way! Just turn it!”

  The car was skipping down the steep hill, and Taylor was having a hard time with the wheel. She finally yanked it as hard as she could.

  Instantly the car spun about, completing a 180. Now the nose faced downwards so that Taylor and Susan could see down slope. This would have been better except for the cracked windshield that Taylor could barely see through. The large tree Chad had seen ballooned in just seconds as they neared it. Taylor spun right and narrowly avoided its massive trunk.

  Then the car entered a clearing. It would be smooth sailing for a few hundred yards from what Taylor could see. But it was closing fast. At the end of the clear stretch was a large rock projection, stands of trees lining both sides, and Taylor knew that was where there short trip would end whether they liked it or not.

  Instinctively she slammed the brake pedal with both feet, and the car tires started sliding through the dirt, spewing it out the sides like a boat propeller spews water. The car started turning sideways, but Taylor straightened it with small corrections to the wheel, still pressing on the brakes with all her might.

  The tires started biting into the dirt. As a result, the car actually started slowing, which isn’t saying much. The space between them and the rock projection was disappearing faster than hotcakes in Alaska. When they’d gotten one-hundred yards near, Susan started yelling, “Brake, brake, brake!”

  “I am!”

  Then Chad yelled, “Gas. Punch the gas!”

  “What?” they both said.

  “Just trust me!” he yelled.

  Susan looked at Taylor and shook her head no. Taylor looked at Susan, then at the rock, which was only fifty yards away, then at Susan, then at Chad in the corner of the crooked rear-view mirror. She punched the gas.

  At first the car lurched forward, then it started biting and digging into the dirt, which was very soft on this part of the mountain. “It’s working.”

  “We’re still going too fast,” Susan said, covering her face with her arms.

  Taylor switched pedals and braked. Then switched again, and lurched. Then braked, lurched, braked, lurched, and so on… The car dug into the ground, skidded, dug, and slowed to about twenty-miles per hour when it collided with the large rock projection.

  Taylor covered her face as the windshield crumbled into thousands of small pieces and blew into the car. The hood of the car flung wide open on impact, and smoke billowed from the engine. Dust was all about them.

  After some silence, the engine spat, gurgled, and sputtered off. Quiet settled over them like an inviting blanket. Taylor, Susan, and Chad sat back in their seats and breathed a few grateful deep ones, examining themselves for injuries. Nothing more than bruises and scratches.

  Susan, of course, finally broke the silence. “I’m officially never, ever taking that road again!”

  They all laughed.

  On the top of the hill, the bad guys had stopped and watched the entire event. Everyone but Billy was convinced the kids were dead. Billy stood on the precipice and peered through his rifle’s scope at the kids’ car, looking for movement. He was good with a gun, well, better when he wasn’t in a moving vehicle, and would blast them all away if they were alive.

  He stood there patiently as his comrades chided him to get back into the car. Motioning them to stop, he lined up Chad, who was getting out and stretching, in his sights. Just as he was about to fire, police sirens filled the air. “Get in the car,” one of the men yelled.

  “Hold on, I almost got them.”

  “I don’t want the boss to get mad if we all three get caught. Sorry, Billy.” That said, the driver sped away. Billy pealed his eyes from Chad and watched his getaway car go one way, and then turned to see the cops coming his way from the other direction.

  He knew he didn’t stand a chance so he threw down his gun and raised his hands in surrender. Minutes later he was cuffed and stuffed in the back of a police cruiser. The lieutenant was on the cliff peering through binoculars and calling in the fire department and the paramedics to fetch the fortunate kids at the bottom of the canyon.

  That night Taylor was chewed out by her parents. They were sympathetic when they first heard the news of the accident. They were even more sympathetic when they learned Taylor and her friends were run off the road by gun-wielding criminals. But they were angry when they found out it was because Taylor was investigating and kicking a hornets’ nest. Finally they were fuming mad when Taylor told them of the first adventure when her and Susan were kidnapped and nearly killed.

  Same story went for Susan and even Chad.

  At home, Taylor’s parents sat her down and lectured on danger and responsibility. The conclusion was that Taylor was grounded and was to stop investigating. “This isn’t like one of my books where everything turns out all right for the good guys,” Christina kept repeating.

  Andrew Kelsey repeated those sentiments and more, emphasizing her lying and sneaking. The night ended when Taylor ran into her room sobbing and screaming, “You’re the worst dad ever!”

  Chapter 17 News networks from far and near were spouting the story of the three teens that survived, with no serious injuries, a fall into a deep canyon. This morning, a closely related new story was making headlines.

  Taylor turned up the volume on the TV.

  It was Tuesday morning, a school day, but her mom vouchsafed Taylor to stay home. So she was in her pajamas doing the only kind of investigating that was permitted her. Watching the news. Though she was angry with her parents for grounding her, she was equally worn out and didn’t want anything to do with the case. Not after that crazy ride.

  And neither did Susan or Chad.

  Then an image of Billy popped onto the screen and startled her. Not that it normally would have, but this picture showed Billy on the floor in his jail cell, dead in a puddle of blood. The news reporter was narrating over the picture—apparently, Billy was murdered by a gun.

  The next image to come on the screen was a live video feed of police Captain Tony Hamell. “And we turn it over to you,” the reporter said.

  After a short pause, Captain Hamell explained the picture of Billy. “Billy Hernandez was shot and killed in his jail cell. All we know is that the murderer snuck through the station and into the jail. The prisoner in the cell adjacent Billy’s said he heard the murderer say, ‘Sorry, Billy, but we can’t have you talking now can we?’ Then the gunshot went off.”

  “And what became of the perpetrator?” asked the reporter.

  “He disappeared right from under our noses. I personally apologize and accept responsibility. I’m the one who heard the shot and ran into the cell first, and there was no one there. He must have slipped out when I wasn’t looking.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Sunset last night. My shift was just ending.”

  “What do you think this says to the public about the police station’s security, and the effectiveness of the police in general?” the reporter asked with a smile.

  “I think it looks bad. I would want the people of Formstaw to know that it was a fluke thing that happened last night. You can count on the police department here. We’re a group of competent individuals who consequently form a strong collective force.”

  Nice political answer, thought Taylor as she turned off the TV. She had to go to school and talk to Susan and Chad. The news of Billy got her excited about the case again. Of course, she was sad someone had to die. But whoever killed Billy didn’t want him talking. Now that was interesting.

  As if on cue, her mom walked into the living room. “Hey, Mom, is it okay if I go to school. I actually think it will help me get my mind off things.”

  Christina crossed her arms. “Fine, honey. But hurry up and get ready. You only have a few minutes.”

  Taylor threw on her school uniform and put her hair in a ponytail. Quick and easy. Her mom had to
drive her to school because Taylor’s car was totaled. The accident was so bad, however, that her insurance company was taking care of all the repairs. From the engine to the windows to the tires. Everything. Well, everything but a provisional rental car.

  While in the car, Taylor texted Susan, telling her to go to school. Susan replied, “i saw the news 2, but im tking day off whnever possible.”

  Taylor’s thumbs went haywire. “But we’re onto something.”

  Susan’s text came back. “im grounded.”

  “So am I. But I have a plan.”

  “No.”

  “Please.”

  “No.

  Taylor conceded. After all, they did just drive off a cliff and nearly die.

  They pulled up to the school.

  “Bye mom.”

  “Don’t get into any trouble.”

  “I won’t.”

  During lunchtime Taylor literally grabbed Chad by the scruff of the neck and sat him down at her table. Which he didn’t mind. “I thought you weren’t coming to school,” he said.

  “I wasn’t, but then I saw the news story that Billy was killed in his cell. The guy that killed him didn’t want Billy talking.”

  “So,” Chad replied, shrugging, “you’re not allowed to investigate.”

  “I know, which is why I need your help.”

  “My parents said I couldn’t do anymore investigating with you.”

  Taylor sighed, put her arms on the table, and dropped her head into them. From what she could figure, her investigation was officially snuffed out. Seconds later, however, she sat up, happy. “They said you couldn’t do any investigating with me, right?”

  Chad nodded with a “where are you going with this” glint in his eye.

  “They never said,” Taylor elucidated, “that you couldn’t investigate without me. Like, on your own.”

  Standing up to leave, Chad said, “I think it was implied. And you know that, too.”

  Taylor stood up. “Sit back down, Chad.”

  They both sat. She spoke, “People’s lives are on the line. We can’t just abandon them in their time of need.”

  “Who’s time of need?”

  Taylor tapped her index finger on the table as she explained. “The gang of robbers has sometimes murdered people who’ve gotten in their way. Like remember that time that jewelry store was robbed? The bad guys, probably the ones who were chasing us yesterday, killed the manager.”

  Chad’s gaze drifted from Taylor to nowhere in particular. Taylor could tell he was thinking. “Do it for me? Please,” she beckoned.

  She stood, walked around the table, and had a seat next to him. Putting a hand on his arm, she asked again, “Pretty please.”

  Drawing a deep breath, he dipped his head. “I don’t know why I’m agreeing, but I am.”

  Taylor bit her lip in a smile.

  “Isn’t that cute?” a voice came from behind. Abby Adamson.

  Jerking her hand off Chad’s arm, Taylor turned to face Abby, who was speaking again. “I guess now that you and Chad are together you’ll be going to the dance together.”

  “Chad and I aren’t together, FYI.”

  Chad agreed. “Yeah, no, we’re not together. No.”

  “Well, excuse me,” said Abby, “but it sure looks like you are. And everyone knows Chad’s liked you since forever.”

  Chad’s face flushed red, and Taylor was angry at Abby for embarrassing him. “Everyone knows that you’ve had a little girl’s crush on Jason since forever, but we both know that he’s going to ask me,” said Taylor. “Jason is mine.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Abby walked away, heels clicking on the concrete.

  Chapter 18 Taylor immediately jumped into planning, outlining the details with Chad. The bell rang not long after, and they went their separate ways. But later that day, Taylor locked herself in her room and dialed Chad on her home phone, which was on her desk. (Her cell phone was lost and probably destroyed when they flew off the cliff).

  Chad’s cell phone, on the other hand, had been in his pocket during the fall and received minimal damage, which was surprising considering how much he was thrown about.

  His phone chattered in his pocket as he pulled into an apartment complex parking lot. The complex where Aaron Cadell lived before his arrest.

  “Chad here.”

  “It’s Taylor.”

  “Hey.”

  “Are you there?”

  “Just pulling in.”

  “Good. Let’s start our investigation there.”

  “In the parking lot?”

  “Trust me,” said Taylor, “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Okay.” He stepped out of his car.

  “How does everything look?”

  Chad looked around. “Normal.”

  “No. I mean, describe everything to me.”

  “Okay.” He looked around again, this time trying to think of how to describe everything. “There are a lot of buildings directly in front of me where all the apartments are. On my right is a parking shelter thing. You know, like the kind at apartments that residents can park their cars under for some shelter.”

  “Aha,” said Taylor.

  “On my left is a kid’s park. Two kids are playing in the sand box. That’s all.”

  “How many cars?”

  There was a pause as he counted. “Well, the parking lot wraps around out of sight, but I can see… thirty-two cars.”

  “Any suspicious looking ones?”

  “What does that mean?” asked Chad.

  “Like ones that are missing license plates. Out of state plates. Ones with numbers on the back window. Junky ones. Super expensive ones. Any weapons in plain view of any of them. Or perhaps the car that chased us yesterday.”

  Chad looked around for any brown sedans. “No, I don’t see it.” Then he fast-walked through the lot and looked at license plate. “I’ve got an Arizona plate here.”

  “Look into the car windows.”

  He looked in to see a duffle bag in the passenger seat. He looked in the back seat. “There’s a car seat, a duffle bag, and a baby bottle in this one. I don’t think that’s suspicious.”

  “No, it’s not. All right, go to the apartment. It’s apartment Z. Most likely on the second floor if that’s how these complexes are.”

  “Yeah, these are two stories.” Chad followed a walkway that led into a breezeway that, at the far end, met a stairway. He started running for it.

  “Are you running?”

  “Yeah. How’d you know.”

  “Your breath. Don’t run,” said Taylor, “slow down, observe.”

  Chad stopped where he was, looked around. “There’s just a bunch of doors. I don’t see anything.” He started walking again, slowly this time. “Okay, I’m approaching the stairway. Okay, I’m on the stairway. Metal stairs. I’m walking up the stairs.”

  “Chad, you don’t have to tell me what you’re doing. Just tell me what you see.”

  He nodded though she couldn’t see him. “Got it. There’s a light fixture on the wall as you go up the stairs.” He was at the top of the stairs now, stepping onto the second floor thoroughfare. “All the apartment doors are wood. The walls are stucco. There’re no doorbells that I can see, only door knockers on the doors. There’re also peepholes.”

  “Any cameras?”

  He eyed the few doors he could see from his vantage. “No. Some of them have screen doors, though.”

  “How about windows?” asked Taylor.

  “No windows. They must be on the backside.”

  “Is there anyone on your walkway?”

  “No.”

  Chad came up to the door with the Z on it. Aaron Cadell’s apartment. “I’m here. There’s a plant on the floor.”

  “Good, that’s his. He said there’s a key under the pot. Not in the plant, but under the pot.”

  Sweeping his head around to see if the coast was clear, Chad kneeled before the plant and moved it aside. “Ther
e’s nothing here.” He looked at the ring of dirt left from the pot. He lifted the pot overhead and checked the bottom to be sure the key wasn’t stuck to it. “No, there’s no key here.” Then, “Wait, here it is. He was wrong. It’s in the plant.”

  In the plant. He emphasized the fact that he’d stuck it under, Taylor mused. “Good work. Now, put on your video camera glasses before you go in.”

  “Already on it.” Chad replaced his goggle glasses with the stylish camera glasses, which were in fact prescription. Checking to see if anyone was watching, he opened the door.

  “Wait,” said Taylor. “Look above the door. Is there a camera?”

  Chad turned up his gaze. “Yeah, yeah, there is.” He stepped back to see it more clearly. “Yeah, it’s a security camera all right. It actually looks quite nice.”

  “Why would he have a camera?”

  “Probably because that golden statue he said he inherited,” muttered Chad, who was studying the security camera. He cocked his head and studied it from different angles, confused. After a thoughtful minute, he walked into the apartment and looked for the video monitor. Taylor’s voice was coming through his cell phone, but he paid it no mind. Finally he lifted the phone to his ear and cut her off mid-sentence. “This is weird, Taylor. The camera has no wires coming out of it, and there’s no monitor.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning,” he said slowly, “that it’s a dud. It’s not recording anything. It’s not even hooked up to anything.”

  “Sometimes people put up cameras just to scare people, you know.”

  “I suppose.”

  “All right, let’s move on.”

  Chad examined the apartment. “There’s one room, a living room, and a bathroom. Living room has one couch and a flat screen.” He walked into the bedroom. “Bedroom has a messy bed and a desk with a computer on it.” Backpedaling, he entered the bathroom. “Bathroom is normal. Hardly anything in it…” He threw back the shower curtains. “Soap, shampoo, and some name-brand body wash. Everything’s kinda messy.”

 

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