by Andria Stone
TOP SECRET
CORPSE
by
Andria Stone
To Kristi ~
with all my heart
Copyright @ 2019 by Andria Stone
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form, or by any means whatsoever, including electronic, mechanical or otherwise, without the prior written permission and consent from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Chapter 1 – Home Sweet Home
Chapter 2 – Call 9-1-1
Chapter 3 – Missing Time
Chapter 4 – Manipulation
Chapter 5 – Check Your Six
Chapter 6 – A To-Do List
Chapter 7 – The Link
Chapter 8 – Precarious States
Chapter 9 – Invasion
Chapter 10 – Payback
Chapter 11 – Deadline
Chapter 12 – Code Red
Chapter 13 – Code Blue
Chapter 14 – Loose Ends
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Prologue
What if you returned from vacation and found something in the pool—that didn’t belong there?
What if you’re drawn into a crime through no fault of your own?
What if you’re being threatened and the authorities won’t help?
How long could you live on the edge, knowing the next moment could be your last?
With the danger mounting both against yourself and your family, would you decide to take matters into your own hands?
Let’s see what Jack Bennett does…
Chapter 1 – Home Sweet Home
Jack Bennett was dog tired. The three people dragging suitcases behind him—the family he’d spent three days confined on a “vacation” with—appeared almost as exhausted.
His wife wheeled her aluminum hard-side past the patio doors, something outside clearly catching her eye. “Honey, what’s that in the pool?”
Behind her, their daughter looked too. “Maybe it’s a shark.”
Their son said menacingly, “I bet it’s a dead body.”
“Daddy, Ricky’s being mean again!”
“Richard, cut it out.”
“I’m just teasing, Dad.”
“Well, I’m not.” Jack Bennett had driven sixty-five miles from Port Canaveral to Winter Park in heavy traffic on a Sunday night. He loved his family, but the Disney cruise had pushed him beyond his limit. Nevertheless, Jack paused and put his nose close to the glass, squinting at the pool. A moment later, he dismissed the dark spot as nothing more than a shadow created by security lights shining through palm trees.
“Probably a shadow, Alana. Got a doozy of a headache. I’ll check it out in the morning.” Jack headed straight to the bar for a well-deserved martini—shaken, not stirred. He stretched out on the couch, kicked off his sandals, unbuttoned his gaudy Bahamian flowered shirt and sank into oblivion. Until…six-year-old Lili came running in to pounce on him.
“Daddy, Daddy, look! My tooth came out!”
Jack opened his eyes to see Lili’s giant smile with a big space where her wiggly left front tooth had been.
“It sure did, Princess.” He planted a kiss on her forehead.
Alana came to pull her off Jack. “Go put it under your pillow, sweetie, so the tooth fairy can find it.” After Lili scurried back to her bedroom, Alana held out her hand. “I don’t have any cash, Big Daddy.”
Jack fished in his pocket, pulled out a wad and gave it to her. “The tooth fairy’s flush.”
“The tooth fairy better get up and go to bed before he falls asleep on the couch.” Alana wagged her finger at him.
With much moaning, he shuffled down the hall to the master bedroom where he fell onto cool blue sheets. Heaven.
Chapter 2 – Call 9-1-1
In the morning, Jack was the last one up. He enjoyed a tepid shower, dressed in olive drab cargo shorts and a Jurassic World tank then wandered into the kitchen. Alana had left a note saying she’d taken the kids on a bike ride to feed the ducks. While waiting for the pod to squirt out coffee, Jack checked his phone for messages—nothing earthshattering. Steaming mug in hand, he walked by the patio doors on the way to his office, stopped, and glanced out at the pool.
Strange. The shadow hadn’t moved. Shouldn’t be there in the daylight.
He unlocked the door, stepped out to look around—made sure no gators were sunbathing on the patio. He’d heard stories of gators taking up residence while homeowners were on vacation. On second thought, he grabbed the leaf skimmer, just in case, for all the good it would do against a prehistoric reptile. Maybe he should get his gun from the office.
The cell phone rang in his pocket. No number. New client? “Jack Bennett, VFX Robotics.”
“Better hide it quick.”
“Wha—”
The caller hung up.
Jack muttered a new expletive he’d picked up in Nassau. If his wife were here, she would have swatted him. He kept an eye out for gators while zigzagging around the patio furniture to the deep end of the pool.
“Holy crap.” He dropped everything. The mug shattered, echoing in the stillness, a dozen ceramic pieces pinged off patio furniture, and plunked into the pool.
A dead body. Face down. In his pool.
Not a shark. Not a bunch of leaves. Not a shadow.
A real dead body.
Jack hadn’t seen a body since Iraq. Hoped he’d never see another.
Too late now. He sat down—hard—and called 9-1-1.
The operator told him not to touch anything, police were minutes away.
He took a knee and bowed his head for a moment, before studying the body for any clue as to who it might be. A male—probably—a total stranger, fully clothed in what looked like…pajamas?
Jeez, he wanted a drink. Nope, wouldn’t be smart to have cops smell booze on his breath. How about more coffee? Yeah. Good idea.
Jack went back inside, then immediately decided to check the safe. He ran to the office, pulled up the rug under his desk, and opened the safe beneath. Whew! Passports, emergency cash, gun, his mother’s jewelry, his father’s medals, all accounted for.
His hand gravitated toward the Glock.
A small, inner voice said, “Leave it.”
A much louder voice said, “Screw that. Grab your weapon, Marine. There’s a dead body out back. You could be next.”
He made sure the gun was loaded and tucked it under his shirt in the small of his back.
The doorbell chimed.
Jack flung the door open to see Martin, the Security Supervisor from La Palma Estates, standing in front of two uniformed cops.
“Mr. Bennett, these officers said you reported an incident. Is this true, sir?”
“Yes, I did. Sorry, I forgot to let you know they were coming—my first time calling the cops. Come on in.”
Jack led them back to the pool. He stood aside while they inspected the area. One officer reported a “DB in pool” to their precinct. The other used the leaf skimmer to move the corpse closer to the edge.
Martin alerted his office that more law enforcement personnel—a lot more—would be coming through the security gate.
Minutes later, the doorbell chimed again.
Two detectives appeared at Jack’s door. Behind them, Martin’s La Palma Estates golf cart sat in the semicircle driveway. Two cop cars now lined the narrow, winding street leading to his home.
The man in a rumpled khaki suit with graying
temples flashed his badge. “I’m Detective Victor Fuentes.”
The other man, shorter, younger, wearing an expensive brown suit with sharp creases, stepped in front of Jack next. “I’m Detective Bruce Irwin. You Jack Bennett?”
Jack nodded, sensing the newly minted, much younger Irwin was a ball-breaker. He’d dealt with the same personality type in the military. Jack motioned them back to the pool.
Fuentes wandered over to speak with the officers, leaving Irwin with Jack.
Sizing up Irwin, Jack looked like Schwarzenegger standing opposite a young Harry Potter in nerdy, black-rimmed glasses.
The pompous little bastard exuded a holier-than-thou attitude while peppering him with questions. Irwin finished with, “We need to see credit card receipts, plus a list of witnesses who can verify your story.”
Jack hid his irritation as he ran through the vacation timeline, produced receipts, and showed pictures on his phone. He suddenly remembered Alana and the kids. “My wife is due back anytime. She and the kids biked over to feed the ducks in the pond behind the clubhouse. She puts up with me, but I don’t think she’s capable of handling this. My daughter’s only six—it will give her nightmares. My son’s ten. He’s very impressionable.” Truthfully, Jack suspected his son was much more mischievous than gullible.
The doorbell chimed again.
Three Evidence Technicians marched through the house with large cases to join the growing cadre of law enforcement around the pool.
Sixty seconds later the doorbell chimed again.
Now there were cop cars littered the street as far as he could see. The Medical Examiner had arrived. Oh joy. Two more people. Now he really needed a drink.
Jack called his wife. “Babe, listen, something’s happened at the house. You have to go to your sister’s. Call her to pick you up. I’ll explain everything later. Trust me, Alana.”
“Are you okay, Jack?” Panic crept into her voice. “You’re not having a heart attack, are you?” Her brother had suffered a mild coronary last year, leaving Alana paranoid Jack might be next.
“No, I’m fine. Something’s in the pool—and it’s not alive. I had to call the police. They’re here now. It might take a while before everybody’s gone. I don’t want you—or the kids—to see any of this. Please go to Maggie’s and wait for my call. Love you.”
He ended the call and turned around, nearly stepping on Irwin.
Both detectives had their guns pointed straight at him. In fact, every cop with a gun had him in their sights. Tension buzzed in the air like a live wire after an electrical storm.
Jack broke out in a sweat. “What the hell?”
“You’re carrying a gun,” Irwin said. “Put it on the lounger, lace your fingers behind your head and move back—slowly.”
Without thinking, Jack’s Take-No-Shit alter ego kicked into high gear. “Hell, yes, I’ve got a gun. And a permit. And this is my house. I found a dead body in my pool. Got my gun for self-defense. As soon as you get the floater out of my friggin pool, you can get off my property.” Rage threatened to push him over the edge. Jack struggled to get it under control. He carefully pulled the gun from his back, following the instructions to the letter.
Irwin scooped up the Glock, ran the serial number, verified it was legal, and Jack had the required permits.
Detective Fuentes waved at Jack to put his hands down. He tried to shrug away the whole incident as if it were a simple misunderstanding, but Irwin didn’t know when to back off.
“That a gang tat on your arm?”
Jack gave him a steely-eyed glare. “No, dumbass. It’s a Marine Corps Semper Fi.” He fought the urge to reach out and snap Irwin’s neck. He could have—with one hand. Instead, he walked away.
The muffled sound of Detective Fuentes’ laughter followed him.
Now he absolutely deserved a drink. After brewing a double espresso, he poured it into a metal tumbler, lacing it with two fingers of Irish whiskey. Jack gulped it down, switched to straight iced tea, not wanting a repeat of the earlier run-in with Irwin. He sat in the living room with a clear view of the patio. Their jumbo-sized gray Persian, Boris, appeared and curled up next to him. Both kept their eyes on the pool activity.
Unlike the military, local law enforcement took an excessive amount of time to remove a corpse—they definitely got paid by the hour.
When Detective Fuentes approached the house, Jack popped a handful of mints in his mouth to mitigate any lingering boozy aroma.
Fuentes returned Jack’s gun. “We’re almost finished here, Mr. Bennett. All the neighbors who were home this morning have been questioned about seeing strangers in the area while you were gone. We’ll send someone back later to interview the ones who weren’t home. The deceased is a male but too degraded to be identified with any Missing Person’s Report. Our ME estimates the body had been in the pool for a couple of days, at least.” He looked at the family pictures covering the wall, pointing to a stunning portrait of Alana. “Your wife?”
“Yes.” Jack always smiled at the flashback the picture stirred within him. Ten years ago, she’d just been crowned Miss Atlanta and was doing a photo shoot at the airport—a blonde hottie up on a scaffolding—when it buckled. Jack had caught her in his arms. She’d been there ever since.
“What line of work are you in?”
“I design special effects robotics for the entertainment industry.”
“Like in the movies?”
Jack nodded. “And TV.”
The MEs finally wheeled their gurney out with a black body bag strapped to the top, leaving a few evidence technicians to finish up, including Detective Irwin.
Jack handed a business card to Fuentes. “Listen, I don’t want to sound ungrateful for everything you guys have done, but if you need to contact me again, call—because that jerkwad Irwin is not coming back into my house.”
Fuentes snorted, adding under his breath, “He’s the Precinct Captain’s nephew. Just got promoted out of harm’s way, if you know what I mean.”
Yes, Jack did. Nepotism reared its ugly head in every sector of society, even the military.
When everyone had cleared out, he put the gun away and grabbed his keys to go pick up his family.
The doorbell chimed for the umpteenth time.
In response to Jack’s earlier call, the Sparkle Kleen guy had arrived to tackle the pool. While explaining the situation, Jack led him around the outside to the backyard.
“No problem, Mr. Bennett. Sad to say, it’s not my first. But I promise it’ll be good as new in a couple days.”
Jack had second thoughts about driving. His internal booze-o-meter wasn’t barking at him, but still—this had been a shitty day. No need to push his luck. He called Alana to ask if her sister could bring them home.
Jack had enough time to gargle, put drops in his eyes, and wash his drink glasses.
“Daddy, we’re home!” Lili ran past him heading straight for her playroom.
Ricky breezed by, mumbling, “What’s for dinner? I’m hungry.”
Alana walked in with that look on her face.
Jack led her out to the patio. He calmly told her everything as they watched the pool guy treat the water, test it, and clean the filters under the lip of the pool.
With a hand to her mouth, Alana’s eyes grew at every detail. She stared at the pool, speechless for a moment. The real, unadulterated facts were a jolt to her comfortable, upscale lifestyle. “The dark spot in the pool was a body? We slept all night with it just outside our patio doors? Do you think someone could have been in our house while we were gone? Are we safe here, Jack?”
He slid his arm over her shoulder. “It happened while we were gone, babe. The cops are in the area tonight. Everything’s under control.” He said it to comfort her, although he didn’t quite believe it himself. In the back of his mind, Jack even remembered the strange phone call out at the pool, but dismissed it as a wrong number or a teenage prank.
Afterward, they took the kids out for di
nner to keep them out of the pool before heading home and calling it a night.
Chapter 3 – Missing Time
The following morning, Jack finally got back to work. Two monster robots needed to be finished for the Pilot episode of a new science fiction TV series. He was making good progress up until his cell phone rang.
The caller ID showed Winter Park Police Department.
Jack’s shoulders slumped, as did his mood. “Jack Bennett, VFX Robotics.”
“Good morning, Mr. Bennett. This is Detective Fuentes from yesterday. Wanted to give you a heads up. Detective Irwin and I will be coming by again in about thirty minutes. We need to speak with you about new developments in the case.”
“Does it relate directly to me?”
“Yes, sir. It does.”
“I’m working, so it can’t take long.” He put some finishing touches on the current section he was working on, went to the garage for the hedge clippers, and strolled out to the front yard. As a man of his word, Jack had no intention of letting Irwin back in his house. The little twerp had pissed him off—royally.
Within minutes, the two detectives arrived. Unlike the previous day, Irwin seemed preoccupied with poking around the hedges bordering the bay windows in front of the house, while Fuentes took the lead.
“We’ve identified the deceased—by a medical implant,” Fuentes said. “His name was Kyle Ogden. He lived a few houses down the block. Did you ever meet him?”
“No,” Jack said, somewhat surprised by the news. “I didn’t know him. Wouldn’t have unless he had kids or jogged in the neighborhood.”
“Who knew you were going on vacation?”
“Like I told Irwin, yesterday: a few neighbors, my wife’s family, some of my kids’ friends. Why?”
“Because Ogden didn’t drown. Someone broke his neck before they put him into your pool.”
“Really? You think the killer lives here?” Jack asked. “In my neighborhood?”
“Can’t say yet. According to information La Palma Estates has on each property, every house has a security system—most have cameras. Ogden’s had both, but they were disabled at 2 a.m., and someone ransacked his house.”