Chapter 7
John looked at his watch: 8:54. He really was running later than expected. He threaded his way through the vine rows, and back to his Bronco. This was the fourth of the Grafton vineyards he and his team had visited this morning. Good thing the properties weren't too distant from one another. The others with him had already departed, but he had stayed behind for a few more minutes. He pulled another grape from a vine and tossed into his mouth. Closing his eyes he savored the pop of the taut skin and the juicy flesh. He knew the scientific names for the parts of a grape berry, but, hey, "skin" and "flesh" were more enjoyable ways to think of this fruit for a sensual man like him. Especially today.
Swallowing, he knew again that the team's collective decision was the right one. They would start picking the grapes in several of the vineyards tonight while it was cool. This particular one though was not quite ready. In a day or two, its turn would come.
As he fired up the Bronco and headed back to headquarters, he knew he needed to stop by the office again first and look at the big board checklist in the conference room. Once the grapes were harvested, the rest of the process had to run without a hitch. The de-stemmers, the presses, the fermentation vessels had to be ready. Those in charge of these machines were expected to update the board promptly with any changes, and he had to check the current status.
Today, being Sunday, visitors were not invited into the tasting rooms or for tours until after 11 am. But the Grafton Wineries visitor parking lot was not blocked off. John noticed a few cars in it he didn't recognize. That wasn't unusual. Driving up to his parking space he stopped and got out. Out of the corner of his eye he saw some movement - a figure on foot stopping, partially hidden from view by some shade. A man seemed to be looking at John. The figure disappeared, and John thought he might be headed to the visitor parking lot. He decided to investigate. A little warning bell rang in his head, and he refused to ignore it. He jumped back into the Bronco and turned it into the visitors lot, He would just see if any of the cars were occupied. None were. He saw no sign of the man. Where had he gone then? Something about him had seemed familiar, but John couldn't put his finger on why he felt unnerved by sighting him.
John returned to his parking space, deciding the little warning bell was just on hair-trigger. The door to the office was unlocked because, he knew, some of the team was inside. John opened the door and entered.
BAM! Lights out for John.
When John regained consciousness and could take stock of his surroundings, he realized he was lying on the floor of a little supply closet in the office building. He had a raging headache. Touching the back of his head, he felt a big knot and some wetness. It was very dim in the closet so he couldn't tell if the wetness was blood or water. He did not taste it to find out. Slowly he got to his hands and knees, feeling desperately dizzy. He felt until he hit the wall and then pulled himself upright on a cabinet. Clenching his hands and closing his eyes, he fought the nausea. Finding the door, he staggered out into the empty corridor.
Shouting for help to any of his team was his first inclination. But then again, he wasn't sure if his attacker was still in the building. Perhaps the man (if it was the same man who'd watched him outside) was a druggie who wanted cash for a fix. Maybe he was long gone. John listened and heard nothing. He didn't think he had the strength to go through the office building, checking each room. He hoped the man was not still there. That he hadn't hurt anyone else.
His car was closer than his office, and it had a car phone in it. John would call the police. So, he used the wall to steady himself enough to get to the door leading outside. He noticed the door was now locked, but he turned the bolt and unlocked it. Once outside, he saw an empty parking space where he had parked his car. There were also no other cars in the employee lot. Checking his pockets, he had no keys. Damn it! The perp had stolen his Bronco.