Orchid Beach (Holly Barker 1)

Holly listened for sounds of someone inside the house. Nothing. The front door stood open, and she heard the truck start up and its tires spit gravel. “Come on!” she yelled. “Get your shotgun!” She ran out of the house and down the stairs. The rear of the truck was just disappearing behind some foliage, and she kept running. As she reached the driveway, she caught one more glimpse of it way ahead as it turned right and headed toward Orchid.

Jackson caught up to her and stopped, the shotgun in his hands. “Did you get the plate number?”

“No, all I saw was a big ‘Ford’ stamped into the tailgate. It was a Florida plate, though.” She turned and ran for the house. By the time Jackson got there, she was on the phone, dialing 911.

“Orchid Beach Police, what is your emergency?” the operator asked.

“This is Chief Barker. I interrupted a burglary in progress south of town. The suspect is a white male in a white Ford pickup truck, Florida plates, I didn’t get the number, heading north on A1A near the south end of town. Intercept and detain; approach with caution, he may be armed.”

“Got it, Chief.”

“Call me on my cell phone with any sightings.”

“Roger.”

Holly hung up. “We may get him yet.”

“Let’s pursue him,” Jackson said. “He hasn’t got that much of a start.”

“He’s a mile away by now, maybe two, and my car doesn’t have a siren or a light; let’s let the patrol cars handle it.” She went out onto the porch and picked up her bag, still panting from her run. She took deep breaths and let her adrenaline production get back to normal.

When she came back inside, Jackson was sitting on the couch, getting his breath. The phone rang. “Hello,” he said. “Yes, the code is three-six-six-nine. The burglar has gone and the police are already here. Thanks.” He hung up. “That was the alarm company. They might have been a little quicker to call.”

“What do you think the guy was looking for?” Holly asked.

“I don’t know. Let me have a look around.” Jackson checked his home office. “He’s been through my desk, and there’s a file drawer open.”

“Anything missing?”

Jackson went through the files, then checked his desk drawers. “Nothing,” he said.

“I guess we interrupted him before he could get any further.”

“Maybe so.”

“Have you ever had a burglary out here?” she asked.

“I had an attempt more than a year ago. The alarm went off, and by the time the cops got here whoever set it off was gone. They figured the alarm scared him off.”

“How come you’ve got a strobe light on top of your house, connected to the burglar alarm?”

“Just an idea I had,” he said. “After the alarm went off that time, I thought, suppose I’m walking on the beach and the alarm goes off? I might not hear it over the surf, so I installed the light.”

“Good idea,” she said. “It worked.”

“Even if not in the manner I imagined.”

Holly’s cell phone rang, and she dug it out of her bag. “Chief Barker.”

“Chief, it’s Jimmy Weathers. I’m duty officer today. No sign of your white pickup anywhere on A1A, south or north. We’re checking side streets now.”

“Good, Jimmy, keep it up and call me when you know something.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Holly hung up. “Maybe he was looking for you,” she said.

Jackson sat bolt upright. “Shit, the airplane! Come on!” He sprinted out of the house and across the dunes, with Holly close behind. The airplane was where they had left it, but the incoming tide was over its wheels. Jackson ran to it, opened the luggage compartment and got out a T-shaped bar. “Come help me,” he yelled.