Tuesday
The early morning fog was clearing at the Wente Vineyards Golf Course. Grass and trees sparkled from the moisture of a new day. A distant figure lurched and stumbled, like a scene stolen from a zombie movie. The motion caught the eye of a grounds keeper. Even from here, Jacob could see that the man was dirty and his posture stooped. He watched as the man jerked and staggered determinedly toward a Tee Box sign. Great, another drunken vagrant lost among the posh grounds of the golf course. The man fell against the sign and tumbled to the ground. He desperately tried to get up. Jacob called 911 for assistance and waited for the ambulance and police.
A uniformed officer arrived at the scene. Feeling no danger to himself, he approached the troubled suspect. The man was crawling as red stains soaked his shirt, hair matted in blood, bare feet moving in desperate purchase to stand. This is more than the typical trespass. The sounds of an approaching ambulance siren filled the air. A few steps away, Carlos recognized the man's profile and curly honey blond hair. Crap, all he needed was a Patrick Jane incident.
Jane continued his slow progress, wet clothes sticking to his body. He jerked up and found himself standing again. Every inch of his body protested as he lurched forward. Just… just keep moving. Carlos carefully approached the man. "Relax Mr. Jane. An ambulance will be here shortly."
Jane staggered toward to officer. "Where am I?" The contest between walking and talking was more than his mind could handle. Balance lost tossing him back into the wet cool grass. He tugged at a few blades, smelling the damp earth. His eyes closed. A light whisper fell from his lips. "Nice day."
