“Jesus,” Holly said. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Nothing to it,” Jackson said as they crossed the threshold. The wheels of the little airplane touched down softly.
“Oh, shit!” Holly yelled, pointing ahead. A white Range Rover had pulled onto the middle of the runway and had stopped. A man in a uniform was standing beside it with his hands up, motioning them to stop.
Jackson pushed the throttle to the firewall and the airplane accelerated. The Range Rover seemed to be rushing toward them. He held the airplane on the ground until it picked up speed, then yanked back on the yoke.
Holly had just enough time to see the security guard throw himself to the ground before she covered her eyes. Jackson banked sharply to the right, and she looked back over her shoulder to see another Range Rover arrive and Barney Noble get out. “Oh, shit, it’s Barney! I hope he didn’t recognize me!”
Jackson was laughing maniacally. “Not a chance!” he yelled. He turned left and headed for the beach side of the island. He tuned in a radio frequency, picked up a microphone and said, “Orchid Flying Club, November 123 Tango Foxtrot.”
“This is Orchid,” a husky female voice replied.
“Doris, you might get a phone call this afternoon, asking about who’s flying the airplane.”
“Tango Foxtrot, have you been buzzing the nude beach again?”
“Not yet. Just tell anybody who calls that the airplane was stolen by some joyrider.”
“That ain’t far off the truth,” Doris said. “You bring that thing back in one piece.”
“Over and out,” Jackson said. “Boy, that was fun. Now let’s buzz the nude beach.”
“What nude beach?” Holly asked.
“Oh, I forgot, the police aren’t supposed to know about that,” he laughed. He turned out over the water, then descended another five hundred feet. “We can legally fly lower over the water. Here come the naked people!”
Holly looked out and saw a couple of dozen people disporting themselves on the sand and in the surf. They were, indeed, naked. “What on earth is a place like Orchid doing with a nude beach?” Holly asked as they whizzed past the bathers, who were grabbing for towels and making obscene gestures.
“Well, it’s not exactly an official nude beach,” Jackson said. “There are just a few adjoining property owners who have a few friends over now and then.”
“Sounds like you’re well acquainted with the spot,” Holly said.
“One hears things,” Jackson said, grinning. “Don’t worry, they’re outside the city limits, so you won’t have to arrest them. Look, there’s my place. Uh-oh, what’s that?” He was pointing to the parking area outside his house.
“Looks like a pickup truck,” Holly said. “A white one.”
“And somebody getting out,” Jackson said. He banked out over the water and turned back toward the house.
“What’s that flashing light on your roof?” Holly asked.
“That’s the strobe attached to my burglar alarm,” Jackson said. “It means that whoever that was has broken into the house. Hang on. The tide’s out, so I’m going to put this thing down on the beach.” He made another turn and lined up for landing.
Holly groaned and braced herself against the instrument panel. The wet sand was rushing at them.
CHAPTER
33
Jackson set the little airplane down on the sand, cut the engine and simultaneously stood on the brakes. The airplane ground to a halt on the firm beach. “Come on,” he yelled, hopping out of the airplane. He sprinted across the beach toward the house. As they approached, the electronic siren of the burglar alarm became louder.
Holly grabbed her handbag and followed. “Jackson, stop!”
He kept running, but he had reached dry, soft sand now, and that slowed him down.
Holly used her last few yards of hard sand to catch up. “Stop, goddamnit!” she hollered.
Jackson plowed on.
Holly slung the strap of her bag over her head and tackled Jackson, bringing him down. “Hold it right here!” she yelled.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, trying to get to his feet.
Holly dug her gun out of her bag. “This part is my job. You stay behind me!” She started across the dunes toward the house, with Jackson running behind her. As she hit the back porch she threw down her bag and struggled with the glass sliding doors.
Jackson reached the porch and came up with his key. “Hang on,” he yelled, unlocking the door. “Now go!”
Holly slid open the door and stepped into the house, pistol out in front of her in both hands, finger on the trigger guard. A tinny voice was screaming, over and over, “Unauthorized entry in progress! Vacate the premises at once! The police are on the way!”
Jackson stepped inside and disarmed the alarm with the keypad beside the door. The voice and siren went silent.
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?”