Dead Silent (A Jettine Jorgensen Mystery, Book 1)

by S. L. Menear

  A few steps and he was airborne. He climbed over the ocean and circled back to the beach as he rose to a thousand feet. It was unlikely the engine’s snowmobile-like roar would penetrate air-conditioned houses, and he would shut it off long before nearing Gwen’s and Jett’s homes.

  He headed north along the waterfront. When he reached the southern border of Gwen’s estate a mile up the beach, he cut the engine and glided in silence to Jett’s house. His meticulous planning, as always, would ensure success.

  Exhilarated by the cool sea breeze, he circled over the guards who stood together for a cigarette break. Like most people, they didn’t look up. He shot tranquilizer darts into their backs as he glided over them from behind. In seconds, they collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.

  Pierce landed on the beach and spread his parasail on the sand for a quick getaway. He slipped out of the engine backpack and harness, climbed over the beach gate, and rushed to the fallen guards.

  He pulled the darts from their backs and sealed them in a hard case. Pocketing it, he pulled out the pint of whisky and poured it into the guards’ mouths and over the fronts of their uniforms to make them appear passed out drunk for the investigation that would follow Jett’s suicide. His gloved hands left no prints, but he curled a guard’s fingers around the bottle, then did the same with the other guard so it would appear they had shared it.

  He took Jett’s house key from a guard. The security code was written on the tag, and he used it to enter through the front door. He keyed in the code to disable the system, then went to the master box in the study and erased the video from the past three hours. The drugged guards would be blamed for the blank video as a ploy to hide their drinking.

  The desktop computer was asleep, but not locked. He brought the screen to life and opened a new Word document where he typed the suicide note from memory, double-checking it with the backup copy. Satisfied, he stuffed the backup in his pocket and hit PRINT. The printer had also been in sleep mode. It came alive and spit out a copy of the fake suicide note.

  He saved the Word doc and left it open, slipped the note into a pocket, and ascended the stairs, eagerly anticipating the kill. Might take a while. Don’t know which bedroom is Jett’s. His parents had told him there were fourteen rooms on the second floor. He wasn’t sure how many were on the third and fourth floors.

  When he reached the second-floor landing, he turned left and entered the north wing. He spotted a closed door on the ocean side of the house, eased it open, and peeked inside.

  Empty.

  Moving to the next door on that side, he found Sophia snoring softly in a big, antique bed.

  He crept close and nudged her, ready to shoot her with a tranquilizer dart if she woke. Deep in drug-induced slumber, she didn’t react. He checked his watch. Might be fun to smother her after I kill Jett. Make it look like she died in her sleep. Or maybe Jett will be blamed.

  Pierce continued his search, confident in his plan. He’d wrap Jett’s hand around his gun while she slept, press it against her temple, and pull the trigger. He knew even if her death didn’t go exactly as planned, he’d shoot her and get away clean with no evidence linking him to the crime. Then he’d be free and clear to continue his political career all the way to the White House.

  Slowly and steadily, he worked his way to the top floor.

  MIKE

  Mike’s cell woke him from a sound sleep. He fumbled for the phone. “Hello.”

  “Detective Miller, this is Elite Security. You said to call day or night if there’s a security issue at the Jorgensen property.”

  Mike snapped fully awake. “Right, what’s the problem?”

  “The guards failed to check in with their hourly texts, and I can’t reach them. Both their cells ring until they go to voicemail. Miss Jorgensen isn’t answering either.”

  Mike shot out of bed. “Thanks for calling. I’ll check it out.”

  He pulled on his clothes, slipped his feet into sneakers, and called Jett’s cell.

  No answer.

  He tried Gwen’s cell.

  No answer.

  A sick sensation twisted his gut as he grabbed his badge and weapon and rushed out the door. Mike lived in the carriage house on his parents’ property down the road from Jett’s home. He raced out the gate in his unmarked police car and turned north on Ocean Drive. The road was deserted at that hour, and he decided a stealth approach without a siren or flashers might give him an edge.

  As he punched in Jett’s gate code, he prayed she was safe and it was all a big misunderstanding. He raced to her house and gently closed his car door to avoid making noise.

  His heart sank when he spotted the castle’s entrance door ajar.

  Mike rushed in, gun drawn, and waited to let his eyes adjust to the dark house. He listened for movement but heard nothing.

  He raced up the south staircase as quietly as possible.

  He had to save Jett.

  Would he reach her in time?

  PIERCE

  He found the last bedroom on the top floor in the north wing empty. She must be in the south wing, probably in the end suite. That would have a view on three sides like the north suite.

  He rushed down the long hallway, eager to find his prey. If she wasn’t in the far end, he would work his way back, checking each room in the south wing on the top floor.

  Pierce reached the south end and listened at the closed door. Were those soft growls? Jett keeps the puppies with her.

  He drew his weapon and eased open the door, careful in case she hadn’t eaten the chocolates.

  JETT

  I dreamed my mother was dabbing my face with wet washcloths and saying, “Wake up, Jett!” The wet cloths felt real. I reached for my mother’s hands and felt warm fur.

  My dogs licked my face and nudged me with their cold little noses. Groggy, I struggled to open my eyes.

  Sniffing something outside, Pratt and Whitney jumped off the bed and ran to the open balcony door on the beach side.

  Stumbling to the dogs, I grabbed the Navy night-vision binoculars I kept on a table beside the French doors. After fumbling with the controls, I finally managed to focus on my back lawn. As I scanned the yard, I spotted both guards lying on the grass. It was impossible to tell if they were dead or unconscious. Everything moved in slow motion.

  Did Pierce do this? Has he come to kill me?

  I stumbled back to my bed, climbed onto it, and reached for my pistol under the pillow on the far side. The puppies leaped onto the bed, following me. They turned and growled softly in the direction of my bedroom door.

  A tall, dark figure opened the door. Wearing night-vision goggles that glowed an eerie green, he crept into the room.

  Sensing danger, the puppies rocketed off the end of the bed and leaped onto the intruder’s chest, knocking him back a step. They slid downward and sank their razor teeth into his pant legs at his ankles, acting like furry anchors.

  My heart raced as he lifted his right hand, aiming at me.

  I rolled off the bed a fraction of a second before a bullet tore into the covers where I had been.

  From somewhere down the hall, Mike yelled, “Jett!”

  I stayed low, my heart pounding as I crawled along the side of my four-poster bed. As I rounded the corner post, the shooter turned toward Mike and fired. Concentrating on holding the gun steady, I aimed for the back of his head from my low position so I wouldn’t hit Mike.

  I squeezed the trigger, the gunshot echoing down the hall.

  Mike fired at the same instant and put a round through the intruder’s heart, exiting his back.

  Our bullets made the intruder jerk like a marionette whose strings had been cut. The weapon slipped from his hand as he collapsed onto the floor. In the greenish glow of his NVG, a dark pool formed.

  The coppery scent of fresh blood mixed with the caustic smoke from spent gunpowder invaded my nostrils.

  I scrambled up, kicked his gun away, and switched on the bedroom light. “It’s
okay, Mike. We got him. He’s down.”

  Mike rushed through my bedroom door. “Jett? Are you hurt?”

  “No, just a bit wobbly, like I’ve been drugged.” I noticed his left shoulder, soaked in blood.

  “You’re wounded. I’ll call an ambulance.”

  “I’m okay. It’s just a flesh wound.” He stepped over the body and pulled me into his arms. “I was afraid I was too late.” Looking into my eyes, he ignored his shoulder and poured six years of pent-up emotions into one searing kiss that could melt steel.

  Even though my muscles were slow to react, I responded with six years of repressed passion, matching his intensity.

  My puppies broke the spell. They were still snarling and tearing at the intruder’s pants.

  My heart raced as Mike released me and leaned over, turning the body onto its back. I recovered my breath and looked down at Pierce’s bloody face.

  Hard to believe someone who seemed so normal could be a cold-blooded killer. His trail of bodies ends here.

  The dogs let go and rushed to me, checking me over, sniffing and licking.

  Good dogs.

  I plucked a paper sticking out of his pocket and read my suicide note. My stomach churned as I handed it to Mike. Then it dawned on me that the gunshots hadn’t brought Sophia running.

  I clutched Mike’s arm. “Where’s Sophia?”

  Adrenaline drove us as we turned and rushed downstairs to the second floor with the dogs on our heels.

  The puppies leaped onto Sophia’s bed and licked her face.

  No reaction.

  I checked her pulse. “She’s alive. The chocolates we had must’ve been drugged. I only had half a piece because I didn’t like the coconut filling. That must be how I was able to wake up.” I slapped my forehead. “Hunter didn’t send us those sleep chocolates. Pierce did.”

  “He must’ve planned this well before you returned from England.” He looked at Sophia. “I’m calling an ambulance, just in case.”

  “Good, I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her.”

  Mike made the call. Then he called in the troops.

  I nudged him. “Better call paramedics for Gwen, Leo, and Hugo. They ate the same chocolates, and the night guards might need ambulances too. They’re lying on the back lawn.”

  Mike swore under his breath and made the calls. Soon, my home was swarming with police officers, CSU techs, a medical examiner, and paramedics. The EMTs took Mike to the hospital over his objections.

  I dressed quickly and leashed my brave puppies. Before I loaded them into the SUV, I told the nearest cop, “I’m going to the hospital to check on everyone.”

  That late at night, it was cool enough to leave the dogs in the locked car parked in the hospital lot with the windows cracked.

  I paced in the waiting room, worried but relieved my dear friends were safe and under medical supervision.

  My thoughts drifted back to Mike’s hot kiss. Did it mean something, or had it been just an adrenaline-filled, heat-of-the-moment reaction? It sure felt like more than that.

  Thirty minutes later, the doctor emerged and assured me everyone would recover.

  I smiled. “My friends who were drugged are going to be surprised when they wake up in the hospital, especially when I tell them what they missed.”

  Thirty-Eight

  “I can’t believe I missed all the action.” Sophia punched the air. “Darn those chocolates!”

  “I’m grateful you’re home now. How do you feel?”

  “Well-rested like you can’t believe. How long did I sleep?”

  “All last night and most of today.” I squeezed her shoulder. “The doctor said if you had eaten one more candy, you would have died.”

  “It would take more than some drugged chocolates to take out a Calabrese.” She petted the dogs. “I hope they bit the crap out of Pierce.”

  “They were fierce. I’m so proud of them.” I scratched their ears.

  “Think the attacks on us are over now that he’s dead?”

  “Mike said they couldn’t find evidence Pierce was working with anyone.”

  The gate buzzer interrupted us, and I checked the video monitor. “It’s Werner Dietrich. Should we deal with him?”

  Sophia checked her gun in the thigh holster under her dress. “Let him in.”

  Still jittery from last night, I felt for the pistol at the small of my back under my shirt. “We may as well see him now and put an end to this.” I pressed the button that opened the gate. “Keep the puppies away from him. We don’t want to give him an opportunity to poison them.”

  She grabbed their collars and held tight.

  I steeled myself as the doorbell heralded his arrival. Wearing my most serious poker face, I opened the door. “Why are you here, Dietrich?”

  “I would like a brief word with you and your pet nanny. I promise this will not take long.”

  “Very well. Come this way.” I led him through to the terrace. “Sophia, Werner Dietrich is here for a chat.”

  She nodded and continued holding the dogs.

  His eyes darted from her to me. “I have done some checking. I know Sophia is the daughter of the late Mafia kingpin, Don Calabrese. Earlier, she killed an intruder here, and she also killed Carl Rowan. Then, you and a detective killed that lawyer, Pierce Lockwood, last night.”

  I crossed my arms. “You left out the part about my dogs attacking him first. Why do you think Sophia’s holding them back?”

  He swallowed and peeked at Pratt and Whitney. They were snarling in his direction. “My point is now that I understand who I am dealing with, I have decided to abandon my pursuit of Jorgensen Industries. It’s not worth contending with such dangerous women. You will not hear from me again.”

  “Good. I’ll walk you out.” I escorted him to the door and watched him drive away.

  When I returned to the terrace, Sophia said, “That went well. We can probably stop worrying about him now.”

  “You may be right, but I intend to search the front yard anyway, just in case he tossed poisoned food onto the lawn.”

  “Good idea. By the way, does Hunter know what happened last night?”

  “I called him. His flight landed an hour ago, and he’s on his way here.”

  The doorbell sounded. “Be right back.” I trotted to the front door and found my uncle waiting outside.

  He pulled me into his arms in a bear hug. “Thank God you’re all right.” He searched my eyes. “Who made the kill shot? You or Mike?”

  “We fired simultaneously. I put one through Pierce’s head, and Mike got him in the heart. He died instantly.”

  “Too bad he didn’t suffer first and then die.” He released me.

  “The puppies bit him several times. That should count for something.”

  “How’s Sophia?” he asked, as we strolled onto the terrace.

  Hearing him, she said, “Upset I didn’t get to shoot the bad guy, but I’ll be fine as soon as my favorite man gives me a big hug and kiss.” She reached for him, and he fulfilled her wish.

  Gwen called my cell. “Is Hunter there?”

  “He just arrived. Come and join us on the terrace.”

  “I’ll be right there.” She clicked off.

  The doorbell boomed again.

  Hunter chuckled. “Your dad sure loved that doorbell.”

  I opened the door to Mike as Gwen pulled up behind his car. “Mike, I’m glad you’re here.” I hugged him, careful of his wound. “How’s your shoulder?”

  “Not bad, just a little sore.” He turned and smiled at Gwen. “How are you feeling?”

  “Well-rested and ready to celebrate.” She kissed his cheek.

  We joined Sophia and Hunter on the terrace. The men popped open cold beers, and Gwen, Sophia, and I sipped wine.

  I smiled at the group. “Now that Mom and Dad’s murderer got what he deserved, they can rest in peace, and I can have closure and move on with my life.”

  Sophia smiled. “Right, and no
more sleepwalking.”

  I reached down and ran my hands over soft puppy fur. “I’m done with the military. It’s time for a change.”

  “Any idea what you’ll do?” Gwen asked.

  “Besides expanding the shelter for battered women and providing college scholarships, I have a new career in mind.” I nudged Sophia. “And I hope you’ll continue as my dog nanny. I can’t imagine living without you now.”

  “Sign me up.” Sophia grinned.

  “Have you decided to join the police force?” Gwen sounded pleased.

  “Too many rules. I’d rather be a licensed private investigator and help people that way.”

  Gwen clapped. “Perfect. And I can assist you with the police database.”

  Mike frowned. “I didn’t hear that about the database.”

  I glanced at Mike. He hadn’t said a word about the hot kiss he gave me last night, but maybe that was because he didn’t know until now that I had decided to stay on Banyan Isle. Time would tell.

  I reached out and squeezed Gwen’s shoulder. “Sorry you didn’t get closure for your parents’ murders.”

  She shrugged. “Hey, what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. And I have a feeling that case will be wrapped up sooner than you think.”

  Epilogue

  GWEN

  It had been a week since her Aunt Liz’s funeral, and Gwen was on bereavement leave. She hunched down in her roadster’s front seat and checked her watch‍—9:15 a.m. There he is, walking out the front door. She focused her binoculars on a white, middle-aged man with thin, gray-streaked brown hair and then studied the photo Liz’s private investigator had given her.

  Definitely Gary Barnes. Hard to believe he’s responsible for fifteen murders.

  Barnes had just left his North Miami townhouse, driving a white, late-model Cadillac SUV. Gwen had run the license plate through the stolen vehicles database on her police laptop. Although the car wasn’t registered to him, it hadn’t been reported stolen.

  She ducked as he drove past her, then pulled out and began tracking the man who’d killed her parents ten years ago. No one knew she was surveilling Barnes, not even her police captain or Jett.