Explosive Attraction - By Lena Diaz Page 0,68
the startled valets. He didn’t stop at the clubhouse. He didn’t even slow down when the car reached the green. He kept on going, right onto the pristine, manicured lawns of the Tournament Players Club golf course at Sawgrass.
* * *
DARBY BRACED HER HAND against the dashboard as the car bucked and slid on the soft grass. “What if you’re wrong? What if the hotel isn’t a decoy?”
Rafe glanced over at her. “Then I’m going to be in big trouble.”
“How are you going to find Judge Thompson out here?”
“Just look for a man in a bright orange shirt with purple-and-yellow-striped pants.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Nope. He’s as predictable as Renee and her Thursday suits. Which means he should be right around the fifth or sixth hole about now.”
“How do you know all this?”
He gave her a droll look. “Everyone knows about Thompson’s golf habit.”
“I didn’t.”
He shrugged.
“There!” Darby yelled, pointing up the hill. “Is that him?
An older man in a bright orange shirt was racing down the fairway in a golf cart, coming toward them. He was driving so fast people were diving out of his way. A young teenager was riding with him. And from the look on his face as he held on to the golf cart, he was terrified.
Rafe pulled the car to a stop on the path and jumped out to intercept Thompson. Darby hopped out and ran after him.
The judge slammed the brakes, making the cart slide sideways, narrowly avoiding Rafe.
Rafe put his hand out as if to steady the older man. “Are you okay, sir?”
Thompson swatted his hand away. “I’m fine, Detective Morgan. Especially now that I’ve found you.”
Rafe exchanged a startled glance with Darby. “You were looking for me, sir?”
Thompson nodded. “I was at the fifth hole when this young man found me.” He waved toward the scared-looking teenager still sitting in the golf cart, his hands wrapped around the railing on the side of his seat. His collared shirt bore the TPC logo.
“That young man gave me an envelope that a courier delivered to the clubhouse. As soon as I opened it, I knew I needed to call you.” He leaned into the backseat of the golf cart and held out a large manila envelope toward Rafe.
“Just a minute, sir.” Rafe pulled his ever-present pair of latex gloves out of his pocket.
He took the envelope and opened it. When he reached inside, instead of a timer, he pulled out a cell phone with a note taped to the back.
Judge Thompson leaned close to Darby. “The note says to give the cell phone to Detective Rafe Morgan immediately, that a life is at stake. Then it says something like ‘an eye for an eye.’ That’s why I was going to the clubhouse to call him.”
She nodded and watched as Rafe reached back into the envelope. Darby expected him to pull out a picture of Judge Thompson. But when Rafe pulled out the picture, his face went white. Darby rushed to his side. Her stomach sank when she saw the handsome face smiling up at her from the photograph.
Nick Morgan, Rafe’s brother.
Chapter Seventeen
“Get out. You can’t go with me. It’s too dangerous.” Rafe idled his car in front of the country club, glaring at Darby sitting in the passenger’s seat. “Go inside with Judge Thompson. The club security will keep watch over both of you until the police arrive.”
“What if this is a trick, to split us up?” Darby asked. “Then the bomber grabs me, and you have to choose between saving Nick or saving me. I saw that ending in Batman. It didn’t end so well for the girl.”
Rafe cursed and shoved the car into Drive. He took off, fishtailing out of the parking lot. He headed back down County Road 210, the same two-lane back road they’d taken from St. Augustine. He reached into his shirt pocket for his cell phone.
“I’ll make the call,” Darby said. “Focus on the road. Who do you want me to call?”
“Buresh. He’s the first contact. Put him on speaker.”
When Buresh was on the phone, Darby held it out between her and Rafe so they could both hear.
“Rafe, I was just about to call you. Sonntag wasn’t in the hotel. It was a setup, a damn cardboard cutout like they have at movie premiers.”
“What about McHenry?” Rafe asked.
“Dead long before we showed up.”
“Then it was a diversion. To get all the cops out of town.”
“Where are you?” Buresh asked.
“Ponte Vedra. I’ve got another envelope and a photograph of my brother