A Merciful Silence (Mercy Kilpatrick #4)(35)

“I don’t know yet,” admitted Bolton.

“And why didn’t the dogs wake everyone up?” Truman asked. “They threw a fit when we got here. I can’t see someone getting in the house without them sounding the alarm, even if they are kenneled outside. I would’ve expected Ray Jorgensen would get out of bed to investigate.”

“Good point,” said Bolton.

“I hope the neighbor can help us out.” Mercy glanced at the time. It was past three in the morning.

There’d be no more rest for her tonight.



Truman stood on the front porch of the Jorgensen home, listening to the rain fall on the porch roof and breathing the clean air. He’d needed to step away from the scene.

Those boys.

All too easily he could picture the pair as they played in the yard and fought with their lightsabers. He’d done the same with his sister.

Headlights appeared down the long drive, and he assumed the deputy was returning with the neighbor. The vehicle drew closer, and he spotted the light bar on the roof. After it parked, a woman in a hooded thick coat and boots got out along with the deputy.

Truman turned around and spoke through the open front door. “The deputy is back with the neighbor.”

Mercy and Bolton immediately stepped out. “Let’s talk to her out here,” suggested Mercy, pointing at the bench and chairs on the wide covered porch.

Truman agreed.

The woman followed the deputy up the steps, pushing back her hood as she stepped into the dry area. Truman estimated her to be in her fifties. Her face was lightly lined, and she was tall like Mercy. She moved with athleticism and energy, but sorrow shone in her eyes. She’d been crying.

Mercy introduced herself and Truman.

“I’m Janet Norris.”

A flicker of confusion flashed on Mercy’s face, and Truman knew she was trying to place the name. Even though Mercy had been away for fifteen years, she frequently encountered people from her past. Truman didn’t recognize Janet or her name. The deputy who had driven her conferred quietly with Bolton for a few seconds, then stepped inside and grabbed another deputy. The two of them jogged down the stairs and got in their vehicles to leave.

“I don’t need every one of them here to maintain the scene and wait for the evidence team,” Bolton explained. He turned to Janet. “Let’s have a seat out here.”

Relief crossed her face, and she sat on the bench. Mercy sat beside her as Bolton took one of the chairs, and Truman stood, leaning against the porch railing.

“I know you’ve already talked to Detective Bolton about what happened,” started Mercy. “Can you tell me from the beginning?” she asked with an encouraging smile.

Janet’s hands twisted the hem of her coat as she focused on Mercy. “The dogs woke me. They were braying and howling like crazy. I’ve never heard them do that. I waited awhile, expecting them to stop, but they didn’t, and I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

More coat twisting.

“I finally called Sharla’s cell phone,” Janet continued. “She didn’t answer. I tried Ray’s too, with no luck, and then called the landline. I didn’t call it first because I didn’t want to wake the boys,” she hurriedly explained to Mercy, including Bolton and Truman with quick glances. “I finally decided they’d gone out of town. I was surprised because usually we ask each other to keep an eye on each other’s place. I debated for a while, but the dogs didn’t let up, so I decided to do a quick check on the dogs.”

“That was kind of you,” Mercy said.

Janet shrugged. “I feed the dogs when the Jorgensens go out of town, so they’re used to me. Tonight I wondered if some animal had gotten into their kennel. They’re good dogs but getting up there in years. Both are moving slower than they used to.”

“What did you notice when you arrived?” asked Mercy.

“Well, the outside lights were on. That’s normal. When I got out of the car, the dogs renewed their braying. I assumed no one was home, so I went to the kennel first. Both dogs looked fine and were happy to see me. No coyote or cougar in there with them.”

“Were there any lights on in the house?” asked Truman.

“I could tell there was a light on in their kitchen, but I knew that didn’t mean someone was up. After I saw the dogs were okay, I decided to knock on the door. That’s when I saw it was partially open. I opened the door and called out for Sharla.” Janet moved her gaze to her hands and popped open the bottom snap of her jacket. Then snapped it closed. And repeated.

“What did you do next?” Mercy gently asked. She leaned toward the woman. “I know this is difficult,” she said in a lower voice.

Janet blew out a breath and kept fiddling with the snap. “I stepped in the house and called for Sharla and Ray.” She wiped a tear from her cheek and dug a tissue out of her coat pocket. “I could smell it. I know what fresh death smells like. I was raised on a ranch, and we butchered animals.” She looked up. “It’s an odor you never forget.

“I told Detective Bolton that I turned on some lights, and then I looked in the bedrooms. I studied each of them to make certain they were dead, but I didn’t touch them. That’s when I called 911.” Tears flowed from both eyes. “Those little boys. I’ll never forget the sight.”