"Exciting chases near the end! Sarah is one cool lady!" - Reader in Aptos "The fast action kept me turning pages. The pace picks-up as the plot evolves" -Reader in Santa Cruz |
BEACH BRAWL |
A Nick and Sarah Mystery. |
Steal a high-end motor home from a popular beachfront park? Impossible, you say? Well, for hot-shot car thief Cruiser Dekko it's only a tempting challenge with bragging rights and a huge bet to win: a high-stakes game, for sure, and one Nick and Sarah Worther didn't retire to the casual shores of Monterey Bay to play. But when Cruiser's brazen plan inadvertently abducts Sarah and her friend Patricia in the stolen rig, Nick, with family and friends behind him, must track down the thieves and save the women. And you better believe private property and trespass laws mean nothing to a fixated hunter! As tension mounts and the situation darkens, Nick will confront guard dogs, shotguns, and the limits of his own endurance, will risk injury and death as he drives himself to the desperate end of his physical and emotional strength in an obsessive search for Sarah. And as hope dims, risk increases, danger rises, and disaster awaits with death in the mix. What will Nick endure to save his soul mate? What will Sarah dare to free herself and to defend her own life and Nick's? And why isn't retirement at all like they imagined? |
"Now I get nervous everytime I visit Seacliff Beach"-Reader in Moss Landing |
Trade Paperback: ISBN 0-595-3413131-4 Published 2005 |
TO BUY THIS BOOK AT THESE ONLINE SELLERS, PLEASE CLICK ON THE BUTTON TO THE RIGHT. |
Three young men stood together on the sunny beach with the cool waters of Monterey Bay at their backs. It was a spectacular morning on a beautiful coast, but the trio didn't seem to care. And to a close observer, they didn't seem to belong there, either. Their obvious tension and the laid-back beach scene were a bad match. The two stubby-looking blondes, bare-chested and tanned in black board-shorts and running shoes, might have passed, but the tall geek arguing with them made the whole group look doubtful. He was big enough to be a pro basketball center, except he was awkwardly thin, almost bony, and his red-and-blue Hawaiian shirt hung loosely from his frame as though draped over a twisted hanger. Waving skinny arms for emphasis, he leaned over like a broken straw, looming above his companions, and they leaaned backward to look up at him and still hold their ground. The wide planter's hat made the tall guy's head look too big for his body, the straight hair falling out of it to below his shoulders adding to the odd effect. Sure, locals are used to unusual sights. They have to be to stay sane. Santa Cruz, a few miles upcoast, certainly has enough colorful beach bums, tourists, freaks, and day-trippers to amuse the curious and entertain visitors. And here at Seacliff State Beach's RV park almost everyone's a visitor, anyway, so one might simply expect the usual to be unusual and leave it at that. But even allowing big-time for the Tourist Factor, the vibe around these boys was weird. Abruptly, the skinny man ended the argument by turning away and scanning the scene through dark wraparound shades: families setting up; towels on the sand; umbrellas being planted; ice-chests settled close. Good.. The big man felt his nervous energy rising, tired of dealing with these two boneheads, ready to get after it. Enough of this crap. "Okay, that's the one!" he said to Newt and Will. "Got it?" He pointed a bony finger inland and watched the shirtless Nelson brothers squint into the morning sun. Impatiently he waited for their reaction, knowing he'd mess their tiny little minds when they caught on. They followed his loose gesture towards the long line of motorhomes, camper trailers, and other recreation vehicles in the camping lot atop the wooden-faced seawall, but neither said a word. Slow on the draw. Idiots! he thought. Suddenly, a large wave broke behind them, nearly drenching their feet in an inland rush of foam and chilly Pacific water! The tall man's black hiking boots and carpenter jeans barely escaped a dousing as all three jumped forward in unison--too close for Cruiser Dekko! He hated driving in wet footgear. The Nelson boys, their short attention diverted, laughed good naturally, but Cruiser glanced over his shoulder at the active surf and prudently stepped inland again. Why tempt luck? Cruiser Dekko, master car-thief, respected luck--Hey, you gotta have luck when the job gets dicey. Lose your luck, could lose your life! Newt and Will were playfully pounding each others's shoulders like a couple kids, which from Cruiser's elevated view-point looked like a fantasy-art beast fight. A hooked-tooth green dragon tattooed on Newt's right arm leaped out to bite the red scorpion on Will's left bicep just above the half-naked brunette girl straddling an 8-ball and ignoring the hideous conflict. Cruiser shook his head, momentarily rattled by the weird vision. Holy Motha! These two were getting to him, and he needed to move on. "See that new Gulf Stream?!" he demanded. Impatience tightened his deep voice. "The Sun Voyager with the brown-and-white paint job?" Gotcha! Now they woke up, mental circuits finally lighting, and he saw four blue eyes widen as understanding bloomed. "No way!" bearded Newt shouted, body stiff with surprise. "That's a damn bus, man!" He swung around to show his confused exprssion to the boss, but feeling smug, Cruiser just nodded agreement. Suddenly angry and sensing a set-up, Newt tried his bro for support. "We thought you was joking, huh, Will?!" "Yeah, that's crazy!" the smooth-shaven brother agreed without hesitation. "We thought you was shitting us." Cruiser have his helpers an amused look and a negative headshake. "Just do your thing, and I'll worry about me." "Yeah, well, I dunno," Will objected. He rubbed at his jaw and his two gold-loop earrings winked in the sunlight. "You called it a gimme, but, I mean, what th' hell, man?! Can't hide that big sucker--Who you gonna outrun?!" "Don't sweat it!" Cruiser snapped, then smiled, showing a mouth of big white teeth. "Look, so it ain't easy--So what? That's why I'm up for it--the challenge!" "Hey, man, there's safer ways t'get your kicks!" Newt warned. "You, like, a thrill-seeker?" "We're talkin' V-10, four-speed automatic--and a gas model--no frickin' diesel," Cruiser insisted. "All's I gotta do is get 'er rolling and outta the park and ZAP! We're gone! Magic, you know?!" "You wish," Newt said with a sullen frown. His head shook disagreement. Cruiser was a trip! Confident, crazy, and stoked as everyone said! Newt had heard of him, sure. All's you hadda do was ask about car-theft in the right bars and you'd hear about the Cruiserman--kinda legend-in-the-making, he was sucha slick operator. Word was he'd never been busted--Can ya' believe it? A freakin genius with timing and planning for unforseen surprises, a man with a taste for dificult jobs. Yeah, man--The Nelsons wished they could be as smooth as the Cruiserman, even if this here idea was world-class whacko! "Look, boys, how long I been at this?!" the legend challenged. He waited, buy nobody answered. How could they? He had a point even these dimwits could see. "Well?" Still no comment, so he squatted on his heels with the tumbling surf at his back and focused-in on the shiny Sun Voyager. Ignored, the Nelsons merely looked at each other in silent sibling communication and shrugged. The Legend hadda death wish, it wasn't their problem. Catching Will's eye to show his intention, Newt said, "Okay, You're the boss." Huh. He'd just remembered something...something he'd maybe heard about the Cruiserman..something about a bet? No shit? Is that right? A bet? Cruiser stood. He spotted Rick, his number two, up in the RV lot leaning on the guardrail and felt reassured. Right on time, like always. "Good," he told the Nelsons. "So I gotta get ready. Goof with your toy or something until I'm set, then we go on my signal. And, meanwhile, don't look up at those motorhomes, and forgodsake, don't be lookin ' at me!" Newt grunted understanding. Whatever. Work was work. If Cruiser was losing it, it'd be his scrawny ass on the line, not the Nelson boys'. And now that he finally saw the job, he hadda call it an ambitious move, but he could see that he and Will were only in for a small part--small, but ''way important! Cruiser started to move away, trudging through the deep sand towards the nearest access stairway, but he paused unexpectedly and turned, flashing a huge toothy grin. "Hey, have fun with it!" he told them. Newt didn't reply. He started blowing up a big red-white-and-blue plastic beach ball, taking huge breaths, and puffing out his cheeks with effort as Will watched, smirking. * * * Nick and Sarah Worther had walked over to the park from their home in Rio Del Mar to say goodbye to their old friends Don and Patricia who'd been visiting in their brand-new glistening motorhome. The walk wasn't far and was pleasantly familiaar: from their modest house in the Rio Flats, a few blocks to the beach, then upcoast across the walking bridge over Aptos Creek into Seacliff State Park and thence along the walkway atop the wooden-faced seawall. Strolling, they moved through the day-use picnic areas, past the well-known Concrete Ship, the beach-level entry road near the small Visitor Center where Sarah sometimes volunteered, and on into the asphalt-paved RV camping area. Now, they stood together in the warm sun, her curly black tresses soaking up its rays, while his short grey hair seemed to reflect them back. Arm in arm, they watched the Moores pack up their gear. Pat and don worked smoothly together to pull in the sliding sections that extended the interior space on either side of the big Sun Voyager, unhook water, sewage, and electricity, and ready their vehicle for the road, and their cheerful air of industry amused Sarah. Seeing their old friends settling into the almost luxurious environment of the huge vehicle felt like a reality shift to the former nurse. Sarah never would've pegged Pat for an RV lifestyle after all her years of working for social caused and volunteering for non-profit groups. Don, she recalled, was always the more adventurous one. Even now, he acted like he took RVing as a challenge to tackle, but Pat was another story. She had grey streaks in her light brown hair, and she'd cut it short, just above her ears. Today, she wore an old blue UC Berkeley sweatshirt over turquoise Capris and crepe-soled walking shoes. The loose-fitting sweatshirt helped hide her extra pounds, although the weight showed in her pale face, heavily treated with sunscreen. Pat, an RV adventurer? No way! Packing up the camp site looked like serious work, and the ordered logic of the routine appealed to the ex-emergency room nurse. "Hey, sure we can't help?" Sarah asked again. Don looked up from coiling the landline, even his balding scalp freshly tanned after a week at the beach, and his ready smile made his brown eyes crinkle at the corners. "Nope. Like we already said, we need to practice on the new rig. For the next six months, how many times do you think we'll have to do this?" "We'll probably be darn sick of it by the time we hit Yellowstone, but we're still looking forward to the trip," his wife added. She stepped down from the high open door onto the bright green rectangle of artificial turf that served as a doormat. "I can't wait to hit the road--not that seeing you two again hasn't been fun, you understand." Nick grinned. "There you go! That's what I always say, Pat--Why live at the beach if you can't go out and play?" He sported wire-rim shades, so she couldn't see his sky-blue eyes, but she heard the levity in his voice. He'd always had easy-going tendencies, even while working, but since moving to Aptos both he and Sarah had made casual dressing an art form. Here he was in Khaki shorts, Tevas, and a faded blue henley, while Sarah wore loose bluejeans, a sleeveless sea-green pullover top, and white aerobic shoes: Mr. and Mrs. Kick-back. Worse, Pat enviously thought, they were slim, tanned, and healthy and looked ten years younger than thei ages. Retirement actually looked good on some people, she had to admit, and the visit had inspired her to take a serious run at working off those extra pounds. If Sarah Worther could keep herself together, then, dammit, so could she! Nick checked out the big rig with a mixture of admiration for its engineering and dismay at the prospect of yet another fuel-sucking monster rumbling down the highways. He considered the thing's turning radius--Don had told him it had a 242-inch wheelbase and exterior length of 36 feet, eight inches--and imagined the difficulties of maneuvering in city traffic or of parking in the average strip mall. Jeez! He and Sarah would never consider owning or even renting-to-try-out a rig like this. Uh-uh! No way! Not even! You just couldn't predict what type of foolishness might infect normal rational responsible folks when they retired--and this thing was a prime example! He supposed his friends might eventually be reborn as jolly denizens of the open road, but they'd both need personality transplaants, first. Don was a tinkerer, happiest when busy with his hands, fixing something, modifying something, improving something...He'd been an English teacher, like Nick, in the Palo Alto Public Schools and had claimed to his peers that teaching at the Middle School level was merely tinkering on a different level: with young minds instead of old machines. Patricia, on the other hand, taught world history, and her early interest in social movements had been rolled over into environmental activism under Sarah's careful tutelage. She'd started with the Sierra Club and Greenpeace and promptly jumped onto everybody's membership list: Defenders of Wildlife, Save Our Shores, the Marine Mammal Center, Friends of the Whales...Over the thirty years he and Sarah had known her, Pat Moore had been active for so many causes he couldn't really picture her just dropping that aspect of her life in favor of passively watching the country roll past her windshield. The big RV just didn't seem realistic for these two--an opinion he kept to himself. Who knew for sure? Maybe a radical change would be good for them. "Is everything inside stowed away?" Sarah asked Pat, putting a cheefrul tone in her voice. "Dishes packed so they won't break? Curtains all secured? Anything loose that shouldn't be? Do you use a pre-trip checklist? Surely, there's something I can help with!" "Well...okay. We're still so new at this, maybe a fresh pair of eyes is a good idea. Why don't you step aboard with me and we'll give it a feminine once-over?" Sarah kissed Nick affectionately on his cheek and removed her arm from around his waist. "Be right back," she told him, then proceeded Pat up into the vehicle. Pat watched her trim figure disappear inside and sighed. Amazing how healthy she still looked after two grown kids, a grandchild, and all those years working in hospitals. "You guys are really role models for us of the recently retired," she teased Nick. "Living at the beach must be healthy." "No smog, moderate temperatures, lots of exercise and good food." He ticked off his points with four raised fingers. "We had a plan, you know, Pat--a strategy." She nodded agreement and laughed. Well, why not retire early, shock your peers, and flee the hectic San Francisco Peninsula for laid-back Aptos, if you could swing it? Why not, indeed? Their kids were adults now and independent: Linda, married with a six-year-old daughter and living in Cupertino; Rob, running up grad school Oceanography credits in San Diego. Of course, their parents were gone, too...but...well, the point was why not have fun with retirement? It should be fun, she told herself firmly. She and Don would have fun, too! They would. They just needed to adjust to this new lifestyle. With a wave to her husband, who was kneeling to lock the pass-through storage compartment near the RV's rear, she followed Sarah up the steps between the galley and extra passenger seat. With the slides retracted and locked-in for travel, the interior seemed distinctly smaller as she turned left, moving away from the cockpit down the walking aisle towards the bedroom. Don ambled over to Nick. "Almost," he said. "How about the welcome mat?" Nick pointed to the green rectangle and smiled. "Last thing--that and the levelers." Don indicated the yellow plastic wedge-shaed blocks beneath his front wheels, used to level-off the unit when setting up. "First, I have to warm 'er up, then back off and pick up the levelers before leaving. Details, you know?" "I don't know, but I see." "So, hand on while I start up." Don popped inside, settled into the well-padded captain's chair behind the wheel, and fired-up the big Super-duty Triton V-10, while Nick idly looked out over the beach. Out on the sand, a red-white-and-blue beach ball bounced back and forth between two vaguely seedy-looking guys in boardshorts, who laughed and clowned around as they played, and just in front of him, an unusually-tall and thin man in a guady Hawaiian shirt trotted quickly up the beach stairs. Eyes hidden behind dark shades and hands shoved into jeans' pockets, he turned abruptly left at the head of the stairs and leaned on the handrail with his face turned to the bay. Odd fellow. Nick caught himself uncharacteristically staring and turned away, catching a sharp glance from a hard-faced man wearing a blue Los Angles Dodgers baseball cap who'd suddenly appeared near the motorhome's opposite side. Surprised and slightly embarrassed, Nick looked away and walked back to the Sun Voyager, whose motor now ran smoothly. The Moores were almost ready to hit the highway. Time for him and Sarh to say their goodbyes and head home. The yahoos with the beach ball were moving closer and getting rowdy, kicking sand, disregarding other folks on the beach, catching everyone's attention. "Sarah?" he said. She hurried to the open door. "Coming. I don't want to be a stowaway!" Don rejoined them wearing a fresh yellow polo shirt and swinging his arms back and forth to loosen up. "One more look at this beautiful scenery! You were right about this place, you know. It's just as cool as you told us before you left. Good choice! I...Hey!" His head jerked backward, and he inadvertently stumbled as the colorful bach ball hit his face! On instinct, Nick stepped forward to help, but was shoved aside by the headlong onrush of a pumped-up bearded beachjock who'd climbed over the seawall's handrail and jumped down between the two older men. "Heads up, Pops!" this one yelled, full of raging glee. "Hold th' ball!" He lunged at Don, seeming to go for the ball which the bewildered target had grabbed in self defense, knocking him back against the Sun Voyager's grill. "Hey, leggo, man! I said drop it!" Ready to intervene, Nick jumped into the idiot's line of sight, saying, "Back off! You'll hurt him!" and prompting the blonde to shoot a hard hand into Nick's chest, pushing him away and into the guardrail. Well, bullshit! Angry now, Nick started for Mr. Beard, then felt himself crudely seized in a throat-lock by a steel forearm and jerked off his feet! "No way! That's our ball!" his attacker hollered into his right ear: the second beachjock rushing to help. Mr. Beard grabbed Don's upper arm and pulled him away from the motorhome towards the stairs, yelling, "Gimme the ball, dammit!" while Nick slammed an elbow into Number Two's midriff! Wasted move, like slugging a wall, and he realized he was being dragged after the other pair. What the hell? Choking from the steady pressure, Nick saw the thin man slide past them without a word, then a jumble of voices from the beach as the ball came bouncing down and Mr. Beard pushed Don out onto the sand. "What's your problem?!" Don demanded, livid with anger. His face was deeply flushed as he rubbed his shoulder. "Who do you think you are?! You can't go around beating on people!" "Beating?! I ain't started yet!" the Beard threatened. "You took our ball, Pops!--You're a fuckin' thief!" "What?! Are you crazy?!" Don's voice was shaky, like he couldn't believe this was happening. Nick's stumbling feet finally hit sand as his shades twisted off, and he managed to tangle his guy's legs and trip them over sideways, crushing the sunglasses beneath them. Thankfully, Number Two released the neck lock when they hit and bounced back upright. Now that he saw the two close up, the family resemblance was clear. Brothers? he wondered. "Hey, you--Jackass! Leave the old guy alone! Try someone your own age!" "Yeah! Your butt's goin' down, man!" Beachgoers gathered around, facing the bare-chested brothers. Enough was enough, and the public was pissed! They approached as a solid group with a menacing attitude. No one needs their beach time dumped on! Nick struggled to his feet with a sore throat, then launched himself in a running tackle at the guy who'd choked him! He felt a satisfying thump as his right shoulder hit gut, and they both went down in a tangle! Then Nick lost focus as the beach scene exploded into frantic pandemonium! Blindsided, he was levelled as he tried to stand, this time, by two sweat-shirted women, both shreaking their indignation at the rude shove that had sent them flying. Everybody jumped in, and the fight expanded to include men, women, kids, families--each and every innocent beachgoer in the vicinity, sucked into the melee. Nick heard a howl of angry curses as the two brawny blondes took on the crowd! He stood, was hit in the back by a falling man, then ducked a wild round-house punch from the clean-shaven jock. Before he could react, the swearing, tussling bodies swallowed the trouble-maker up, and Nick lost sight of the brothers as he was pushed forward into an angry stranger. Awkwardly, they both tripped over a red icechest and fell to the sand again. Now he thought the crowd was fighting itself, struggling bodies all around, like this was an old-fashioned saloon brawl with every man for himself. He had sand in his hair, eyes, and mouth. Spitting, he looked up and saw the fight lose momentum and dissolve, the two muscular jocks giving it up and suddenly sprinting away. Their running feet kicked up spurts of sand, arms pumping determined rhythm, heads down. Several guys chased them, young and old, but quit after a couple hundred yards. Sprinting in deep sand is no joke! Nick looked for Don and found him lying down, holding his left thigh with both hands, teeth gritted, face white and stretched in obvious pain! "Don! What happened?!" "My leg! He..he...broke it...kicked...Oh, damn, it hurts!" Nick felt suddenly inadequate. He spun to find the fleeting fighters far across the beach near the Visitor Center. Neither pausing nor slowing, they scrambled up and over the seawall and disappeared from view. Their beach ball bounced across the sand, pushed by a light sea breeze, and finally came to rest against a neon-orange beach umbrella. Three people, two disheveled women and a red-faced man, were already kneeling by Don, comforting him and examining his injury. "Clean?" Nick asked. "Yes. At least, that's fortunate," a short brunette told him without looking up. "I'm his friend. He's Donald Moore," Nick offered. "Thanks. I'm a doctor." She raised a cell phone. "We've called the paramedics. Don't leave. They'll need his personal information." A young man approached Nick. His forehead showed a swelling bruise and he protectively held a young baby in a pink blanket. "Bastards!" he snarled. "They were hassling you two." The head-nod included Don. "What the heck was that all about? They were, like, berserk! Drugs, maybe?" "Who knows?" Nick muttered, trying to think. "It didn't seem like..." "No? Well, it was a weird deal--freaky weird! Never seen a fight like that. Those guys? They just charged us--the crowd! They plowed through us punching and kicking, knocking anyone down and stomping on everyone's stuff! What kinda bonehead provokes everyone around them, then attacks a whole bunch of people? It was like they were trying to light us up and piss us off! Going for confusion! Then, right in the thick of it, they just bail--I mean, like they heard a signal. Just frickin' weird! Why'd they go after you?" "I don't understand. They just picked a fight..." Slowly, Nick heard his own words and realized the truth. They'd delibeerately provoked a fight with Don and him! They'd been targeted! For what? And forgodsake, why?! Pivoting in place, he looked back at the RV lot, and it hit him with the irresistible force of a lightning strike, sending his whole nervous system into urgent sizzling tension! Don's new motorhome was gone!--And so were Pat and Sarah! |
It starts like this.... |
In this frantic search for abducted women no danger will stop the desperate hunters, and one man will risk everything to save his soul mate. |
