Page 119 of Putting Out
In unison the crowd groaned. So much so, she had to smile. It was one putt and she had a tap- in for par. Not bad, all things considered.
Reilly tapped the ball and it dropped in. The crowd applauded and she waved her appreciation. She walked across the green to shake hands with her partner and his caddy, then turned back to see Kenny picking up the bag.
Then it happened. Like something out of a movie where everything slows down. She opened her mouth to shout a warning, but only air escaped her throat. Her legs wouldn’t move. Her body froze.
He came running out of the crowd, jumping over the useless rope line that was supposed to keep him out. Her eyes blinked against the glare of the sun hitting metal. She watched him come up behind Kenny and then his hand was moving forward and down and she was shouting.
Shouting for him to stop.
People in the crowd screamed and the chaos of people scattering reverberated along the ground. Reilly raced to Kenny who was on his knees, his hand reaching behind his back for something she couldn’t see.
A man, balding and short but thick through the middle stood behind him. He wrung his hands and tears fells from his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry. I had to do it.”
“Freeze! Put your hands in the air where I can see them.”
Reilly looked up and saw Mark standing with a gun in his hands and his feet spread apart as he aimed it at the back of the man who had attacked Kenny. Frightened, the man raised shaking hands into the air.
“I had to do it.”
“Turn around slowly.”
Reilly crouched over Kenny who was now lying on his side writhing in agony as the knife sticking out of his back continued to elude his grasp. She met the man’s nervous gaze and thought he didn’t look like a killer.
“I had to do it,” he whispered fretfully. “The angel told me I had to do it. Don’t be scared. The bad man can’t hurt you anymore.”
“Stop talking and turn around! Now!”
The bald man stepped away from Reilly and turned around. But as he did he reached for his pocket.
“I have to give her…”
The sound of a bullet ricocheting through the air stunned Reilly. Again she huddled over Kenny and listened as the crowd screamed with renewed fervor.
“What’s happening?” he asked her through gritted teeth. “What the hell is happening?”
“Shh,” she quieted him. Leaning over his side, she could see the grotesque knife hilt sticking out of his shoulder blade.
The bald man stumbled forward to the stands and dropped face-first into the grass. Security personnel rushed to the scene and Mark placed his gun in front of him and held up his badge. Sunlight glanced off gold as he shouted to everyone around him he was FBI.
Reilly watched the surrounding activity through a fog of shock. She tried to replay the events but she could only see blood pooling out from under the man’s body and hear Kenny groaning.
Shouts of 911 meant an ambulance would come. Television cameras spun around her but she didn’t have the mental wherewithal to tell them to go away.
“Kenny,” she croaked. “Hang on. Help is coming.”
“It hurts.”
Reilly leaned over him to check to see if something had changed but the knife was still there. Unmoving.
“I don’t want to take it out. I could hurt you worse.”
“Unlikely. Listen to me.” He reached up and grabbed the collar of her shirt. “Don’t forget to sign the card. You have to sign it.”
“What?”
“Your scorecard. You have to sign it and it has to be right or you’ll be…” His voice trailed off as a wave of pain rolled over him. “Disqualified.”
