by Linda Ladd
“Does he let Judith and the kids spend time outside on the grounds?”
“He used to, back then. Pretty much whenever they wanted to go anywhere they could just get in the car and tell the chauffeur where to take them. When Judith contacted me, she said he doesn’t trust her anymore so he keeps her inside. I don’t know if that goes for the little kids, too. There’s a nanny for them now. She emigrated from Nicaragua but doesn’t speak much English. She’s an older lady and seems scared of everybody.” Lori paused. “Judith is terrified he’s going to molest her girls, Novak, either now or in the future. It’s hell on earth for women who live in that place.”
“She really thinks he’ll molest his own grandchildren?” The idea was so abhorrent that Novak had trouble stomaching the thought. If that were true, Novak had no qualms in cutting this guy down. No man who did something like that deserved to walk the streets.
“Judge Locke’s a bastard, all right,” Frank said. “But Hennessey’s the real monster. I’ve seen photos of a couple of his acid attack victims, and it’s not pretty. The kind of acid he uses totally disfigures the face, especially the eyes, just burns them out. But he usually kills them afterward, anyway. He likes to leave disfigured heads lying around as warnings, too.”
“Tell me everything you know about him, Frank.”
The rain had let up some, but the wipers were still slapping hard against the windshield. Novak pulled over on an adjacent street. No one would notice. The houses were too far back and too far apart. “Hennessey heads his own mob, but they’re not the ones who call the shots here in Houston. But he’s cut out his own little territory, and the big guys don’t mess with him unless he steps out of line.”
“Then who is in control of the crime syndicate?”
“Jonathan Wagner. His family owns the streets, and they have since the 1950s. They keep their noses clean and launder their money and don’t get caught with their pants down. Hennessey’s not so careful, and his gang is more violent. They do crazy things and act as enforcers for Wagner and the judge. My buddies in the police department tell me they recruit the crazies. They deal with the Mexican cartels and use acid and decapitation as deterrents.”
“What’s Hennessey’s first name?”
“Timothy, and he’s one sadistic son of a bitch. I met him once. At some kind of church bazaar, believe it or not. He’s Irish Catholic and a violent SOB. Word is, he enjoys killing with a distinct penchant for torture by blade. Nobody rubs him the wrong way, believe me, and I mean nobody.”
“How tight are Hennessey and Locke?”
“They work hand in hand. Are they good buddies? I can’t say that. They both like power and intimidation, and pretty much get away with it by buying off cops and politicians. I think Hennessey provides Locke with extra muscle when he needs it. They’re tight in a business sense.”
“That sounds like I need to take out Hennessey first.”
“Either way. I just pray that Lucy’s nowhere near Hennessey.” Frank’s voice broke. At thirteen, Lucy was still a child and possibly in the control of a sadistic madman. Novak didn’t like that visual image. He thrust it out of his mind and tried to memorize the names of streets and shortcuts to use, if and when he was being pursued.
They drove around the affluent community for a time, and then moved further out into the city, Lori and Frank pointing out to Novak other properties owned by Locke, and there were plenty. The beach house was located in Galveston, down south of Houston on the coast and the last place on their list. They couldn’t get to it easily because it was isolated and built down at the end of a narrow sandy road. There were other houses along the beach, but none in sight of Locke’s place. Locke also owned some warehouses and seedy bars here and there, which doubled as hangouts for his men. “I need to decide which guy to take down first. So let’s head back to the cabin. I think I’ve got everything straight in my mind. Now I believe that Locke should be our primary target. We need to rattle him, make him a nervous wreck, if we can. Hit him hard and make him wonder who we are and why we’re targeting him. I intend to come back out here and cause Locke some major headaches. You two can stay at the cabin and out of sight.”
Unsurprisingly, Lori didn’t go for that. “You can’t face these guys by yourself. Don’t be a hero or they’ll kill you.”
“Yeah? So who’s going to help me? You got a bum arm that you can barely raise above your waist. Caloroso’s got a warrant out on him, and his description’s probably in the hands of every cop in the state. Right now, you’re both distractions and useless to me. Maybe you can tag along in case I need to get the hell out fast. But that’s it. No arguments. I go it alone.”
Neither said anything. They could be helpful in other ways, but Novak liked missions better when nobody slowed him down or got hurt or killed because of him. If he stepped the wrong way, only he was going to pay the price. He knew what he was doing. So that’s the way it had to be. Now he needed to eat something, get some sleep, gather up what he’d need, and then tomorrow he’d throw down a gauntlet on the playing field and see how tough these guys really were.
Chapter 8
The next morning when Novak got up, Caloroso was gone, probably off on his early-morning run. Any other time, Novak would have joined him. He did that at Bonne Terre because it cleared his head and got his blood pumping. Frank needed physical activity right now to even out his nerves. Lori Garner was standing at the living room windows, massaging her injured arm as was her habit now and staring down at the mist cloaking the Sweet Sarah. She was wearing the sling. Novak stopped in the doorway.
“Is your pain worse?”
Lori hadn’t heard him come into the room. She spun low in a defensive crouch. She was jumpy as hell, just like the rest of them. She was dressed in those same boot-cut jeans with a man’s white T-shirt knotted at the waist. She wore her Glock in a black leather belt holster riding on her right hip. She didn’t answer his question.
“You’re lazy this morning. I’ve been ready to go for an hour.”
“You’re not coming with me.”
“Where are we headed first?”
They stared at each other. Novak decided this woman was in the running for the most bullheaded, stubborn female he had ever known. Worse than Claire Morgan, and that was saying something. “I’ve got to see somebody before we can move on this thing. I do it alone, or I don’t do it.”
“I’m legit, Novak, with a spotless military background. You need to trust me and let me help you. We are facing a veritable army out there.”
Novak was tired of talking about it. “Look, Lori, I’ve known you for a few days. You have done okay. Right now, I’m not sure what’s going down around here. I go it alone when I set up the groundwork. Always have. Always will. No offense intended.”
“So I’ve got to earn your trust. Or is it your respect?”
“I respect you, damn straight, I do. You’ve gone through hell at the hands of those men. I don’t know you well enough to put blind trust in you. I don’t put blind trust in anyone, to be honest. That’s just the way I am. I’m tired of arguing about this.”
They locked stares. That wound had to be painful. She just wouldn’t admit it. “Frank was awake all night expecting Hennessey or Locke to show up.”
“Frank’s not himself and won’t be until Lucy’s back home. Wouldn’t you worry if they had your daughter?”
She didn’t answer.
“Lucy’s his only child. She’s the only family he’s got left in the world. He loses her? He loses himself.”
“I know that. He’s losing himself right now. And I can’t seem to help him.”
“Nothing’s gonna help him until he’s got her back.”
Novak contemplated her. She had reapplied the black goop on her eyes. It took away her youth and painted her as older and tougher. Maybe that’s why she did it. He fought the urge to tell her to wash it o
ff. What Lori Garner did was none of his business, and he needed to remember that. Her next question told him she’d acquiesced to his decision. “How about I fix you a cup of coffee before you leave? I made it extra strong. Figured we’d need it to be.”
Novak felt relieved that she wasn’t forcing an argument. He was tired of bickering and having to explain himself. He wasn’t used to that. “Yeah, sure, thanks. Make it black and give me plenty of it.”
“I’ll fill up a thermos to take with you.” Lori moved into the kitchen, reached up with her good arm and retrieved a mug from the cabinet. Novak sat down at the table, and she brought it over to him and sat down with her own cup. “Will you at least tell me where you’re going today?”
“The less you know about what I do from here on out, the better it is for you. That goes double for Frank.”
“Have you even considered that something could go wrong? That’s when you’ll need us. We’ve got to know where to start looking. You need a backup plan.”
Okay, maybe she hadn’t given up. That didn’t surprise Novak. “You’re not going, so give it a rest, kid. You never listen to me, and you’re beginning to get on my nerves.”
“I’m not a kid. How long’s this super-secret mission going take? When should we start worrying that you might be dead and lying in a ditch?”
Novak ignored her sarcasm. “Don’t know yet. Depends on how things shake out.”
“You would be better off telling me. You better believe I wished someone knew where I was when I was chained up in that basement.”
“You were outnumbered and caught by surprise. I won’t be. I’m meeting a friend, if you’ve got to know.”
Lori shook her head. “Who? At least tell me that much.”
Novak took another hard look at her. Her intense interest made him wonder about her motives. She read his expression correctly and explained away his doubt without him having to ask the hard questions.
“When Frank comes back, he’s going to ask me where you are and what you’re doing. What should I tell him?”
Novak looked past her face and put his gaze outside. The mists were not clearing up. It was going to be a dark and dreary day, but it wasn’t raining. No sign of Frank out there. He wondered where he ran when he was at the cabin. Maybe Novak should take a look around and make sure he was okay. He took a sip of the coffee. It was too hot and burned his lips, but it was so strong he could barely drink it. Next time, he’d make the coffee. Fact was, he just didn’t trust Lori yet, not the way he trusted Frank. He wasn’t quite sure why. She was definitely competent and a victim, but that didn’t always matter in his book. He rarely trusted anyone right off, or ever. He decided she’d earned the benefit of the doubt. “Okay. You told me Judith wants a deal with the Feds, right? She wants to set herself up in witness protection in return for turning state’s evidence against her father. Somebody’s got to reach out and set up the deal. I know people who might be able to get that done quickly. I don’t need your help with that. Satisfied?”
“Who are you reaching out to?”
She was too pushy, which intensified his trust issues. She should understand why he wasn’t telling her more and back the hell off. Still, she wouldn’t let up trying to pry details out of him. Why would she do that? He wanted to trust her and thought he could, but still, he wasn’t stupid, and she was being too obvious. “Let’s go with need to know here, how about that?”
“Is this person trustworthy? Our lives are on the line here, too. Frank’s and mine. We have a right to know who you’re bringing in with us.”
Novak frowned. “I trust this person. I’ll decide if I still can after I have a chat with her.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Novak. Let me come along. I’ll stay in the car and watch your back. That’s all I’m asking.”
Novak wasn’t going to discuss it anymore. He stood up and choked down the rest of the coffee. “Stay here. Rest your arm. If I need you or Frank, I’ll call you on the numbers you gave me. Don’t go anywhere and keep your head down until I get back.”
That did it. Lori finally gave up the argument, glanced away, and stared out the window. Novak didn’t say anything else, either. Yep, she was definitely getting on his nerves. He left out the back door, glancing around for Frank again before heading to the barn. He decided to take the Jeep. It was identical to a thousand other Jeeps in the Houston area. Nothing flamboyant that anyone would notice. The keys hung on a pegboard just inside the door, all labeled with the make and model. Frank was anal that way. He was anal about anything dealing with motor vehicles.
Novak took off and kept to county roads that he’d traced out on a Google map, using different roads than they’d used on their way into Houston. He went around Port Arthur and finally merged onto Interstate 10, after which he made good time. Frank had chosen the fish camp’s location because of its inaccessibility, and he’d done a good job. It was difficult to find and difficult to get to once you knew where it was. Traffic was light, so he stepped on the gas. Now that he was on his way, he was eager to see his old friend. He knew her from his NYPD days when he was just starting out in law enforcement, and he was certain that she could set up a hastily signed witness protection order as well as any other special agent.
Leslie Ann Taylor was not a woman you could count on every time without some worry. She was not a woman easy to figure out, either, or know what went on inside her pretty little head. She was a firecracker, small and dark and tough and sexy as hell in a dangerous sort of way. All were attributes he enjoyed in a woman, especially the latter. Now that he was on his way, he was eager to see her again. It had been years since they’d been together romantically, but he had kept track of her through passing time. They’d met on and off in official capacities but not recently. He drove at a speed that ate up the miles but not too much over the speed limit. After about an hour, he pulled out his cell phone and put in a call in to Claire Morgan. She picked up at her end in a hurry.
“Hey, Novak. You in trouble again? That’s the only time you ever call me anymore.”
“Where are you?”
“Rome, you know, the one in Italy. So I hope you’re not calling me to bail you out like you usually do.”
“I need your help, but you can do from there, if you will. How’s it going with Rico’s adoption?”
“Black’s working everything out slowly and surely in the most ridiculous iron-clad detail but with his usual abundant charm, not to mention making sure everything is legal and aboveboard and won’t come back on us. Yep, all i’s are dotted and all t’s are crossed and all Roman palms are greased, I guess. You know how Black is. On top of everything, all the time, every time. I’m going to keep him. He makes things happen.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen him in action. I figured it would go okay for you guys.”
“So how’s Mardi Gras going? You still putting drunks in NOPD lockup?”
“No, that’s done. Things got a little dicey the last night, so now I’m in Houston looking to screw over some bad guys.”
“Same old, same old, huh? But what the hell’s going on, Novak?”
“I’ll tell you all about it later. It’s complicated. Right now, I want you to find out everything you can on a Houston mobster by the name of Timothy Hennessey and a dirty judge in Galveston named Calvin Locke. Hennessey’s operation is small, but it sounds like he’s up to his eyeballs in every crime you can think of. Is Harve available to research this stuff for me? I know you’ve got your hands full over there.”
“Sure. Harve’s lonely without Rico to go fishing with. What’d these guys do to you?”
“Nothing much yet, except try to kill a woman I just met and kidnap the daughter of an old friend.”
There was a moment of silence. “Is that all?”
“One’s a dirty politician; the other’s a sadistic bastard. You know, the usual types. They’re both said to be ruthless an
d deadly, and half the Galveston police force and judicial system is working on Locke’s payroll, not to mention a gang of inept thugs acting as enforcers. Locke’s a pompous elitist who sexually abuses his daughter, and Hennessey’s probably sex trafficking underage girls. Hopefully not the girl we’re looking for.”
“I declare, Novak, the criminals you take down. Well, good for you. I’ll ask Black about Hennessey. See if his big bro hangs with any mob associates in Houston. You know, crime boss fraternity kind of stuff. Harve’s gonna have to dig up the dirt on them. I’ll send it along the minute I get it. Right now, I’ve got to sit through all these court proceedings where guys in fancy robes drone on for hours, and in Italian, mind you. Boring, don’t you know it. Black is fluent in Italian, but of course he is.”
Novak had to smile. Claire wasn’t one to sit around and do nothing. She was Type A on steroids. But she’d go through anything to adopt Rico. Her husband, Nicholas Black, was a crack psychiatrist and a savvy businessman who could hold his own with any lawyer or judge anywhere at any time. More important to Novak, Black’s older brother was a well-connected crime boss in New Orleans, an underworld organization of which Black had no part but had used his brother’s connections to get Novak out of hot water more than once. Black was a good guy to know. “Thanks, Claire. I owe you.”
“Need me to fly back there and get you out of trouble again?”
“Not yet, but stand by. I’ll tell you all about it when you get home.”
“All right, just be careful. I want you alive and kicking when I get back. I’ve picked up an interesting case over here.”
“I’ll tread lightly. I want to make sure these guys are as bad as they’re purported to be before I do something to them I can’t take back. So when are you and Black slated to leave?”
“Soon, maybe in a couple of weeks. Maybe sooner. Cross your fingers.”
“Big Easy or Lake of the Ozarks?”
“The lake. We’re decorating the nursery up there.”
