Sudden Death (21 page)

Howard was up; he hit his ball onto the green about 15 feet from the pin.

They walked up to Reid’s ball; it was deep in the trap, about 20 yards away from the green. Using his wedge, his shot came to a stop just inside Howard’s. They both two putted; Howard for par, Reid for double bogey.

Reid’s drive on 15 was exceptional. His second shot, equally as good, put him on the dance floor. He putted in for a birdie. Howard’s par kept him ahead by one shot. They both parred the 16th, making it look easy. Howard ran into trouble on the 17th, the signature hole on the course, a 466-yard par four. His tee shot did not make the necessary turn on the dogleg-right fairway, making his second shot almost impossible. The approach shot had to carry over water to a medium-sized green. As soon as he hit it, he knew it was going for a swim. He bogeyed the hole while Reid shot a clean par. They were tied for the lead once again, with the next player four shots back. It was like a replay of the Master’s.

Howard hit a poor tee shot on the par five, 18th hole. Reid’s drive was very good, but his second shot was a disaster. The ring of guards had tightened around him. Until now, Reid’s emotions were as volatile as a small boat in high seas. The highs of a potential win were countered by the lows of potential death. But since he had come this far, his competitive nature took over and he became more determined than ever.

They were both on the green in four, but Howard’s putt was going to be much easier than Reid’s. As they walked to the green with the crowd applauding, Reid’s heart was pumping strong. His body tingled with the warm rush of blood through his veins. He loved this powerful feeling; it was his ultimate high. It was his body’s typical reaction to an impending win, and he craved the sensation.

The sun had fallen below the treetops. The men tipped their caps as they walked onto the shaded green. From the look of the balls’ positions, a betting man would have been happy if his money was on Howard. Reid had a long putt with a big break in his line. Howard had a five-footer that looked fairly straight. Reid knew he had to sink this putt or chances were that Howard would win. He studied his putt from various angles with Buddy. Crouching down about four yards behind his ball, he evaluated the break in the green. Standing behind him, Buddy leaned over Reid’s shoulder and mumbled, “Gotta hit it about nine inches to the left.” They both stood up and Buddy stepped away as Reid lined up for his putt. He took a few practice swings, looking from the ball to the hole and back. He had nothing but sinking the putt on his mind. At the moment, nothing else in the world existed. His focus was absolute. He was in the zone. He pulled his putter back and hit the ball; he had read it well; the ball broke slightly to the right and curved as it rolled toward the hole. Reid held his breath. From the lack of any sounds, it seemed as if the entire crowd was holding their’s, as well. The ball slowed as it neared the hole. It was the perfect putt…or was it? Stopping at the edge of the cup, it actually looked like it was going to fall in. Reid grimaced and walked slowly toward the hole, hoping the ball would drop by the time he reached it. No such luck. A collective, “Oohh,” came from the gallery. Reid tapped it in for a painful bogey and sighed. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help thinking, Well, at least I’m going to live to see Shane later.

Those watching him saw a reaction never before seen on Reid’s face during a pending loss. He was smiling.

After a quiet round of applause, it was Howard’s chance to win the tournament. He studied his putt with his caddie, whose hand signal showed a straight shot. Howard walked up and took a few practice swings. He looked extremely nervous. He lined up and hit his shot straight; it rolled in a perfect line, then broke and stopped just left of the hole. The crowd moaned. Howard covered his face with his hands; he couldn’t believe he missed. He walked up and knocked in the ball, matching Reid’s bogey.

Reid walked over and patted Howard on the back. “New match, huh? Sudden death!”

The crowd was huge; people everywhere scrambled to the next hole for good position.

After the announcer explained the sudden death playoff, both men hit excellent drives down the middle of the fairway. Howard was first to hit his second shot, and with just the right touch, he landed it on the green. They walked another 15 yards to Reid’s ball. He lined up, went through his preshot ritual and swung. His shot landed on the hill just to the left of the green and kicked right, ending on the dance floor, too.

Reid walked to the green, flanked by his tight circle of security, as the crowd cheered. Howard had a 14-foot putt. Reid was about three feet closer to the pin on the same line. Reid marked his ball’s position and stepped away, leaving Howard to study his putt. Reid was pleased, knowing he would get an education from Howard’s putt. Howard walked to his ball and took a few gentle practice swings. He lined up, slowly brought his putter back and swung through the ball. It rolled, broke a little toward the hole and slowly stopped about three inches short. Howard’s body slumped as the crowd moaned. He walked to his ball in aggravation and tapped it in for par.

Reid was up. He and Buddy studied the putt from both sides. Having watched Howard’s putt gave Reid a tremendous advantage. He saw the break and just had to follow it with the right speed. Howard had hit the right shot just a little too soft. Reid stepped up and took a couple of practice swings. He closed his eyes for a moment, raised his head to the sky and took a deep breath. He looked down at the ball, then to the hole, then back down again. He pulled his putter back and hit his putt. The ball rolled, following the same break as Howard’s, slowing a little on its journey.

Suddenly, a loud shot rang from the woods. Reid felt something slam into his chest. He was knocked off his feet and flew backward crashing to the ground. He felt the tremendous weight of his bodyguards as they landed on top of him. Each one squeezed out a little of what air he had left in his lungs. He felt intense searing pain in his chest. His head felt as if it had exploded. He couldn’t breath. His gasps for air were fruitless. The pain was unbearable. He thought, So this is what it feels like to die.

Shane, Joan and the others arrived at the hospital 20 minutes after the Medivac helicopter had delivered Reid. Tension and tears filled the waiting area. Was Reid alive?

Fifteen agonizing minutes later, there was still no news. Buck, who had been sitting alone in absolute silence, could wait no longer. He stood up, walked to a nurse in the hallway and asked abruptly, “Excuse me, we need information. Reid Clark has been in the emergency room for more than 30 minutes and we have no idea what’s going on. Is he alive? Is he going to live? Get a doctor out here now, please.” “Sir, please stay calm, I’ll…” Buck cut her off, “Calm? I am calm. Believe me, you’d know it if I were upset. Look, I don’t want a lecture; I want a doctor,
now
.” “I’m sorry, sir. Let me see what I can do.” She turned and walked briskly through the oversize double doors. Another 10 minutes passed, but there was still no word. The hushed, somber atmosphere was broken only by an occasional sob. Some sat quietly; others tried to console each other. All had moist tissues in their hands.

Finally, a doctor came through the doors. The group converged around him. “I’m very sorry for the delay. First, I want to tell you that, although there are some complications, Reid is alive.”

A collective sigh of relief emanated from the group. Joan and Betsy both let out loud gasps. Shane was holding her breath, her teary eyes riveted on the doctor.

The doctor continued. “Although his vital signs are good, he remains unconscious. The vest he was wearing stopped the bullet; in fact, it was still lodged in the vest when we took it off. The bullet hit fairly close to the center of his chest; even without penetration, the impact to the heart could have killed him. We’ve brought in a cardiologist and a neurologist, both the best in their fields. They’re running tests now. Dr. Kutscher, the neurologist, is unsure why Reid has not regained consciousness; the blow to his head from hitting the green was not that hard.”

“He had a serious head injury a long time ago while playing college football,” Joan interrupted quietly. “The doctors said another severe blow to his head could kill him or cause permanent damage. That’s when he switched his focus to golf.” She put her hands over her face and began to cry. “Ma’am, do you know where we can get in touch with those doctors?” Buck chimed in before Joan had a chance to respond. “Reid keeps an explanation of the injury and the doctor’s contact information on a note in his wallet.”

“I have his golf shoe bag right over there,” Buddy said. “His wallet should be in it. Let me check.” He pulled Reid’s green bag out from under a chair, unzipped the outer pocket and said, “Yeah, here it is.” He handed the wallet to Buck.

Buck opened it and flipped through the contents. He pulled some cred it cards out and found the folded note. He opened it and nodded, saying, “This is it.” He handed it to the doctor.

Looking at the note, the doctor said, “Post concussion syndrome, trau matic brain injury? Alright, now things are beginning to make some sense.” He turned to head back through the double doors. “I’ll be back in a little while to give you an update.”

They ran a battery of tests on Reid’s brain. The final results would take time. There was nothing to do but wait until he regained consciousness. The electrocardiogram had confirmed his heart was in good shape.

They moved him to a private room. Joan and Shane stayed with him overnight. Everyone else remained in the waiting room.

Shane fell asleep holding his hand. Around 4 a.m., he squeezed her hand lightly as he began to regain consciousness. She woke up before he opened his eyes and quietly said, “Joan, wake up. I think he’s coming to.”

Joan woke and reached for his other hand. Reid slowly opened his eyes and silently observed his surroundings. “What happened?” he slurred.

Shane explained everything through a haze of tears. Joan slipped out to inform the others. The on-duty nurse was making rounds, and with no one to stop them, they all went into Reid’s room. Tears flowed as they entered. They each took turns gently hugging him.

Always the comedian, Reid quietly said to Joel, “Guess your save record is still unblemished, huh?” “Thanks to the vest,” Joel sighed. The doctor came in and was taken aback at the sight of the crowd in the room. “I’m sorry to do this, but I have to ask everyone except Mrs. Clark and any other family members to leave the room immediately. We still don’t know the severity of Reid’s head injury. He needs to rest until all the tests come back and we have some answers.”

“Hey,” Reid said quietly as they began to leave. “I have two questions. First, who shot me?”

“You remember the guys that Art had faxed us the report on?” Buck said.

Reid shook his head. “Not really. I’m a little foggy, Buck. Refresh my memory.”

“Art sent us a report about two guys we kicked out of camp. One of them was a guy named John Morgan. Well, the shooter was his brother, Joe. The take-down was pretty intense. The police found him in the woods right away. He was perched in a tree about 15 feet off the ground. They surrounded him with guns drawn, so he threw down his rifle and surrendered. A cop climbed up and pushed him from his position. He dropped like a rag doll, hitting branches before landing with a thud. He was a bloody mess when they dragged him from the woods. They cuffed him and threw him into a waiting patrol car. Jay has been interrogating him. We’ll know more soon.” Reid nodded with a slight smile. They all started to leave the room again. “Hey, I said
two
questions,” Reid blurted out. “Easy, Reid,” the doctor said. “What’s number two?” Betsy asked. “What happened to my putt?” Everyone laughed. “You sunk it. Congratulations, you won,” Buddy said. Reid smiled and sighed. “Now I can rest.”

Reid recovered quickly. The tests showed there was no serious damage. The doctors confirmed that as long as he was careful, he had a long life ahead of him.

He was released from the hospital after three days. He wanted to go back to his apartment, but Joan and Shane insisted he stay in Bedford. He agreed, as long as Shane stayed, too. The doctors wanted him to remain quietly in bed for at least three more days. Then he could start taking short walks. Anything more strenuous, including golf, was out of the question for three weeks. That meant he would miss only one tournament. “I can live with that,” Reid commented. “I’m so glad, Reid,” the doctor said sarcastically. Every bump in the road during the ride home caused Reid to grimace in pain. His headache, which had become tolerable in the hospital, was now pounding. His bruised chest, which had already healed significantly, still ached with every little jostle, as if a knife were piercing it.

During the three weeks of recovery in Bedford, Reid and Shane were together every waking moment. She had a calming effect on him. When he got fidgety, which was quite often, she would sit with him and hold his hand as they talked quietly. They had so much to learn about each other.

As soon as he was able, they went for long walks on trails in local parks. Joan joined them occasionally, but mostly stayed out of the way. It was a unique time for them; how often do young couples get to spend so much time together in the beginning of their relationship? While this could damage many relationships, with Reid and Shane, it helped form an inseparable bond. He found her to be as beautiful inside as she was out. He loved the way she treated him; she was extremely caring, yet firm. As for his constant playful mind games and taunts, he had met his match. If he gave her a hard time, she gave it right back. It was quite obvious to them and anyone who visited during his short recovery that they were absolutely made for each other.

After a week of rest, Jay and Buck had come up to visit. Jay told Reid and Shane about the shooter.

“John Morgan had paid his older brother Joe five grand for the hit. Joe’s plan had been to become his brother’s agent and manager when John went pro. He was enraged when John had been kicked out of AllSport. He would have been happy to shoot you for no money at all. He’s got a rap sheet a mile long. Believe me when I tell you, this guy is crazy. I couldn’t shut him up. He started telling us about some of the crimes he’s gotten away with. He bragged about the fact that he put two cops in the hospital without being armed at the time of the fight. Then when we arrested John, he wouldn’t shut up, either. He told us Joe uses PCP regularly and, with a little in his system, he thinks he can take on the world. They were both very upset that you’re alive. But don’t worry about it. The two of them are going away for a long time, so you can feel safe…for now anyway.” “What do you mean,
for now
?” asked Shane. “Sorry, Shane, I don’t mean to worry you, but Reid has made a few enemies over the years. Sometimes it takes a situation like this to get everyone to realize it. That’s one of the reasons I came up today. Reid, I don’t want to seem pushy, but I think you need me on retainer as your security consultant.” “What’s that going to cost me?” Reid asked. “Don’t worry, my fees are reasonable.” “Who are you kidding? I saw your last bill and I’m still tying to figure out how I’m going to pay that!” “Cut it out. Just say no if you don’t want me.” “Can’t you take a joke? Of course I want you. You’re hired.” Buck then jumped into the conversation. “Excuse me gentlemen, but I think, as Reid’s managing agent, I should know how much this is going to cost him.” “How about two hundred grand a year?” Jay said. Reid and Buck looked at each other and nodded. “You’re hired,” Reid said.