by Linda Ladd
Lori looked sexy, all right, which she knew only too well. The makeup did cover the residual bruises, and the lipstick was fire-engine red. Her blond hair was loose and long and curled down her back. She had on red high heels. The guy would stop and help her, all right. Novak was more worried about what that guy would try next.
“I’d skid to a stop. You bet I would.”
That brought out a smile on that scarlet mouth. Her eyes were darkened all around. She called it smoky eyes. “Wow, now I’m triggered for sure. Don’t know you all that well yet, but way I see it? You’d stop for anybody having car trouble, especially some poor clueless girl who doesn’t know how to change tires. You’re a knight in shining armor. Look what you did for me, right after I held a gun to your head, too.” She grew serious. “You saved my life, Novak, when I was in a hell of a lot of trouble. I appreciate that. You’re a standup guy. I owe you, and I know it.”
Novak didn’t want to talk about that. “You don’t owe me anything. More like, we owe each other to still be breathing, and we just met. Only thing I’m saying is just be careful with this guy. They’re not exactly brainiacs, but they’re armed and dangerous and don’t have any compunction about killing anybody who gets in their way.”
They stared at each other. She was smiling, and she really did look pretty. The woman was growing on him. He didn’t want her to grow on him. She was interesting and unpredictable and skilled, but she was too young and too much a pain in the ass for her own good. He got back down to business.
“Okay, all you’ve got to do is fake a story about your car not starting. Get the guy to sit down in the driver’s seat. After I take him out, you drive the car around back and wait for me. You ready?”
“Yes sir, I am raring to go. Don’t you forget that the judge keeps a night crew up around the house, but they usually patrol with the dogs. You worry about yourself. I’ll be fine. Time to make yourself scarce. But please, take this guy down fast. Like you love to harp on, my arm’s not quite up to fighting off a grabby guy, not yet anyway.”
“He’ll go down quick. Don’t worry.”
“I believe you. You give no quarter. I like that in a man.”
Novak checked out the street for cars. The coast was clear. It was long after midnight. Apparently, the old fogies in this kind of affluent neighborhood rolled up the streets at ten o’clock. The place looked as dead as Arlington Cemetery after dark. He climbed out, rounded the car, and squatted down behind the rear fender. He had already checked out the wall for surveillance cameras and motion sensors and made sure none were pointed in his direction. Locke was doing something highly illegal inside that wall, something they wanted no one to know about. Novak had one opportunity to get through that gate undetected. Their plan was risky as hell and not particularly unique as clever plans went, but still worth a try. If Lucy and Judith were in there, they were coming out with him. He watched Lori walk around and lean up against the trunk. She did look good in that little scrap of a skirt. “Don’t fail me, Novak,” she said, not looking at him. “I don’t want to mess up my new clothes. I like the way you look at me when I’m wearing them.”
Novak ignored that. Neither of them spoke again, just waited in the quiet street for somebody to show up. It was past time for the night guard. At twelve twenty, a pair of blinding headlights swung around a curve a good distance up the street. Novak backed farther out of sight. If all went down as they hoped, the driver in that car would be a six-foot-one guy by the name of Charlie Henson. They’d watched his movements the night before. Lori had heard the name but never met him. Judith had once told her that he was a jerk and to stay away from him. Judith based that opinion on the way Charlie treated her children. Novak hoped he was a Good Samaritan jerk.
The black Lexus they were waiting for sped down the street toward them but slowed when the driver caught sight of Lori. He drove past her but hit the brakes a bit while he gave her a long hard look. She waved, after which he proceeded on, turned into the front drive, and braked in front of the motorized gate. Hidden in the shadows, Novak held his breath and hoped the man would nibble on Lori’s hook. Henson climbed out of his vehicle and leaned both arms on the top of the Lexus and stared down the road at Lori. He had on a black leather jacket and a black ball cap, Locke’s official hoodlum uniform. Lori wasted no time. She started strolling toward him. She had that sexy walk down pat. Novak hadn’t noticed that before because she hadn’t walked that way before. She was a whole different persona in her new outfit. Tonight was indeed a revelation.
“Hey, mister,” she called out to Henson. “How about helping me out over here? My car just died on me, and now the engine’s flooded, I guess, or I’m out of gas. I can’t get it to start.”
Novak tensed up as she neared the Lexus. Henson should be suspicious of her, out this late in this kind of neighborhood, dressed like that. Novak would’ve approached her with caution. Apparently her legs won Henson’s internal debate on whether or not to help her, because he rounded the back of the car and strode quickly to meet her. He was grinning stupidly, as if lady luck had found him. Halfway there, he called out, “You need me to call a wrecker for you?”
Lori stopped and waited for him to come to her. She didn’t want to appear too anxious, Novak assumed. “I’ve been trying to call for help but everybody’s closed till tomorrow morning. Now my stupid cell phone’s gone dead. Maybe my car’s got a low battery or something? I don’t know anything about cars. Maybe you could jump it with cables, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”
Henson suddenly decided he was her father. “You shouldn’t be out so late at night all alone, you know that, right? Something bad might happen to you.”
Novak grimaced. Something bad like him.
“I know. I was cutting through here to get home because I’m running so late. I went bar-hopping with my besties and time got past me.”
“Does your husband know where you are?”
This guy was clumsy in the come-on department. Lori was not going to have trouble enticing him to step into her car.
She smiled up at him, quite the little flirt when she wasn’t shot up and bleeding or holding Novak at gunpoint. “I don’t have a husband anymore. I divorced him because he was always so jealous.”
That was such a blatant female green light that the guy had to know he could pass Go and collect $200. Henson appeared pleased about her marital status. He stepped up close to her. She reached almost to his shoulder, hooker heels and all. “That’s too bad.”
“No, that’s too good.”
Henson and Lori laughed softly. Novak wished she’d cut the coquettish chatter and get on with it.
“I hate to bother you, but I sure do wish you’d try to start my car. I just can’t seem to get it to turn over.”
Henson just couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her naked legs. “No problem. I’ll take a look, but I’m not much of a mechanic, I warn you.”
They walked back to the Mustang together, and Lori stood back when he opened the door and got into the driver’s seat. She stepped back out of the way as he turned the key. By the time the motor fired in a smooth purr, Novak was right beside him. He sent his doubled fist slamming into the guy’s temple before Henson even knew he was there. The force of the blow knocked him across the console and halfway into the passenger’s seat. He didn’t move, knocked out cold.
“Good God, Novak, you’re gonna kill somebody with those fists.”
“You wanted him out, so he’s out. He needs to stay that way for a while. He’ll probably be all right.” He jerked Henson out of the car, peeled off his black jacket and cap, and pulled the lanyard with the employer card key off around his neck. Then he dragged him back to the trunk. Lori opened it, and Novak dumped the guy inside, grabbed a roll of duct tape he’d left there, and put a double layer over his mouth then secured his wrists and ankles together. “Okay, Lori, you know where to wait for me, r
ight?”
“Drive out back to the private alley and park halfway down just past the rear gate with my lights off. If you find Judith and Lucy, you’ll bring them out through the rose garden.”
“If I don’t show up in, say, thirty or forty minutes, an hour at the most, or you hear gunshots, just take off and go back to Frank’s and stay there. He’ll help you ditch Henson. Understand? Don’t come in there after me, no matter what happens. You got that?”
“Got it.” Lori climbed into the driver’s seat and drove off.
Novak snugged the hat down low over his face and tugged on the jacket. He picked up his backpack full of tools and walked quickly back to Henson’s Lexus. Keeping his face averted, he waved at the camera as he got in and swiped the card key he’d taken off Henson. A voice came back in a static buzz, “You’re late, Charlie. Quit messing around. Get in here.”
“Right,” Novak muttered.
The gate parted slowly, and Novak drove into the inner sanctuary. The road wound its way through a grassy, tree-dotted front lawn until it rolled out into the open and forked at the front of the house. There, one arm circled around to the pillared front portico, the other road veering off left and around the side of the house. Novak took the second one. Out back, he found a triple-car garage with a paved parking area on one side, just as Lori had described. Novak pulled in next to a Toyota van. Maybe that meant only a few guards were pulling night duty or maybe they carpooled.
Lori had mentioned that the night shift was small but well armed. No guards stood about ready to shoot him. Good thing. Problem was, Novak wasn’t sure where or how many men he would eventually run into. He parked the car and got out. That’s when he picked up the sound of a dog baying somewhere in the distance. Maybe they only let them out of the pens when intruders were spotted. That would be nice. He wasn’t counting on it. A couple of animals howled along with the first one for a few minutes then shut their mouths and the night settled back into silence.
The house was completely dark except for a couple of windows up on the second floor. No lights on the third floor. Novak took a moment to check out the garage for prisoners, hoping to find Lucy there. There was nobody inside, but he found the locked stalls in the back. All were empty. If Lucy had been there, she was gone now. After that, he headed for the servants’ door that Lori had described as his best bet for getting inside the house unseen. She also told him how the servants hated the judge’s guts and liked to spit in the food they served him. Maybe he could find some allies on staff, if things got out of hand. Still, nobody was around and the servants’ door was locked up good and tight. He swiped Henson’s card key, hoping it worked everywhere on the property. It did. The lock clicked open, and the handle turned.
Inside, he found a long shadowy hall lined with metal lockers and coat hooks. It stretched out before him like an oversized school coat closet with a few umbrellas and jackets hanging here and there. Cautiously, he moved forward, deeper into the house. He heard no sounds and encountered no one. At the first cross corridor, he glanced quickly in both directions. Silver sconces lit the way every ten feet, but they threw off dim light. No sound. Novak was surprised the house was not guarded better than this. Maybe Henson was the sole guard posted at night. That would be lovely, but soon proved not to be the case.
A man suddenly appeared at the far end of the hall and strode straight toward Novak. He was looking down at something in his hand. Novak ducked back into an alcove that led into what looked like a closet and hoped the guy didn’t see him. The door was locked, of course. He pushed back against the wall and rose onto the balls of his feet, ready to come out fighting if he was discovered. Unfortunately, the guard turned right into the alcove with Novak. The guy’s initial shock worked to Novak’s advantage. He grabbed the smaller man, wrestled him around, and got his arm around his neck. He had to go down quietly. Chokeholds came in so handy, and he was good at them.
The guard was wiry and stronger than he looked, but Novak held on as the guy dropped to his knees and tried to knock Novak off balance with his feet. Novak went down with him and hung on, cutting off his air until the guy stopped struggling. Seconds later, he was unconscious on the floor. Novak dragged him up against the closet door and taped him up. Then he inched back out into the hallway. As long as he had the element of surprise, the takedowns would keep on coming.
The house was huge, with spacious rooms and wide halls, but fairly dark except for the wall sconces. The judge must figure no one had the internal fortitude to break into Locke Castle. Novak moved along quickly, following Lori’s directions until he reached the magnificent marble staircase that led up to a furnished mezzanine where an eight-foot-tall Palladian window faced the rear lawn.
Novak caught a glimpse of the night sky outside, full of stars with the moon partly obscured by silver gray clouds. He moved on, searching for the back servant staircase Lori had described. Palatial houses were not his thing, but they always had a servant’s staircase so the wealthy owners wouldn’t have to look at the peons unless they were groveling over their masters. Lori said it rose out of the kitchen. He passed through one room after another, all big and rectangular and posh and furnished with priceless antiques. He counted twenty white leather chairs around a black marble dining table.
He took his time as he walked through, looking in closets and recesses but found no imprisoned women. He found steps leading down to the cellar behind a door but found nothing down there except rack after rack of expensive aged wine. Where the hell were the guards? The lack of security didn’t make sense to him.
Back upstairs, he entered a kitchen that gleamed and smelled like a grove of pine trees and oranges, with shiny stainless-steel appliances, white marble floors that were all mopped and waxed to a singular and spectacular glow. He discovered the steps he sought behind a white bi-fold door and crept up them, the Kimber .45 out with his finger near the trigger. Wary about the dearth of guards so far, he moved stealthily, eyes wide open, ears pricked for sounds. He should have seen another guard by now, sitting around the kitchen bar, drinking coffee to stay awake the rest of the night. Hell, even one guy was asleep on a couch. That’s just the way night shifts worked, in the military, in business, and anywhere else. That went double if Locke was holding prisoners inside his house. Calvin Locke was careless with his own security. Maybe he thought the superb setup on the outer walls did the trick. Wrong. The steps rose to the second-floor landing, and more steps led up farther, probably to an attic. Still nothing, no talking, no footsteps, nothing. Novak stood still, undecided. It all seemed a bit too easy. That’s when he started fearing a major trap.
Novak ventured a peek into the dark wing of the second floor where the family’s bedrooms were located. Also quiet and deserted. Same sconces, same ambient light, same muted hush. Where was everybody? He stepped out onto the wide tan-carpeted corridor and eased open the first door on his right. It was a bedroom with no one inside. Empty. The next two bedrooms were designed to please little girls, with lots of princess posters and white queen-size canopy beds and plenty of stuffed animals: Sammi and Susie’s rooms, no doubt about it.
After a quick check of the other bedrooms, Novak found nothing amiss and no one about. He turned the corner and moved into the adjacent wing. At the far end, a door stood ajar. A narrow shaft of light spilled out onto the dark hall. Somebody was at home. Novak edged up close and darted a quick look inside. It was a big room, a combination sitting room and bedchamber, the largest Novak had seen thus far. It also proved to be the jackpot.
Calvin Locke sat at the elaborate mahogany desk at the far end of the room across from a fireplace and underneath another giant Palladian window. The judge was smoking a slender cheroot, and gray smoke and the pleasant smell of expensive tobacco hung in the air. He appeared to be studying a sheaf of papers that he held in one hand. A green-shaded lamp burned atop the desk; the rest of the room lay in darkness. Gas fire logs flamed in front of him. He w
ore a crimson velvet robe like some lord in King Henry the Eighth’s court. Locke didn’t move, didn’t look up, didn’t have a clue Novak was anywhere around.
Novak felt the urge to step inside and bludgeon the judge right then and there, but it wasn’t the time. He wasn’t going anywhere in that stupid bathrobe. He stepped away from Locke’s bedroom and tried the door handles of the other bedrooms. It didn’t take him long to find the one affixed with a big sturdy bracket and padlock. It looked incompatible to the spotless condition of the rest of the house and the rich wood of the mahogany doors. This guy was a devil. No key was in the lock. Novak’s gut told him Judith Locke was trapped inside that room just as Susie had told him. Hopefully, Lucy was in there, too. That would make Novak’s job so much easier, but it was already too easy to take anything for granted. The house was so utterly silent that he could hear his own breathing, soft and regular.
Novak wanted to know where everybody was and what they were doing before he even thought about rescuing whoever was locked up inside that room. He entered the back stairs again and ran lightly up to the third floor. There, he finally found signs of life. Two young girls, most likely housemaids, stood in an open doorway at the far end of the hall, whispering together. The servants’ quarters, not a place Locke would deposit his daughter or any other valuable prisoner, not with the way most household staffs gossiped. He searched the door handles for padlocks, didn’t see any slide bolts, either, but hadn’t expected to. This was where Locke’s servants lived. Locke seemed fairly nonchalant about his criminal activities, but he sure as hell couldn’t hide from employees when he was holding a family member prisoner. They probably knew but were too scared to alert the police. Novak would bet Judith was inside that room. Locking up one’s recalcitrant daughter was not the same thing as imprisoning an abducted thirteen-year-old. Novak felt good to go. Now for the fun part: paying the judge a nice little visit that he would not enjoy.
