The Devil's Work

by Linda Ladd

  “Could be that ruthless gang running interference for him gives him confidence.”

  Claire scoffed. “True. I can hear that call now. ‘Hey, guys, there’s a couple of young Guatemalans causing me grief.’ ‘No worries, boss, we’ll drown them.’”

  “Probably exactly what happened.”

  “He needs to be shot.”

  “That’s our job.”

  Almost an hour later, Kellen turned onto a ramp into the city of Naples. He took a major thoroughfare and drove for a while until he entered Park Shore.

  “Nice place,” Claire noted as they headed down a wide, palm-lined avenue called Ninth Avenue North. “This place looks affluent. Take a look at these homes. Baby-napping must be a highly lucrative field if he’s got a place down here, too. I bet it’s a beach house, or maybe he’s meeting up with his boss. That would definitely rock my world.”

  “Hope so. I doubt if it’s his second home. My guess is a stash house. If it is, we might get lucky and find Rosa there. Don’t count on it, though. I suspect as soon as the Castillos showed up in Fort Myers looking for the baby, Kellen moved the kid out of town and fast.”

  “I don’t care if they took her to Timbuktu. We’re going to find her.”

  Kellen slowed as he came to a trendy nightlife area. Both sides of the street were lined with upscale bars and restaurants, as well as occasional art galleries, bookstores, and boutiques. Novak lagged back when Kellen stopped at a traffic light. He had feared the new Lincoln he drove would attract Kellen’s attention, but not anymore. Most of the vehicles they passed were new, predominantly Mercedes, Cadillacs, and even a Ferrari or two. They were in the money, all right.

  Eventually Kellen hung a right onto yet another wide avenue divided by grassy medians with big flower beds brimming with red and white and purple petunias. The place looked like a tended garden with beds along the landscaped sidewalks, making vivid splashes against tan brick walls. Most houses were modern and looked new. They were elaborate, painted in soft pastel hues, not particularly unusual this far south on the Florida peninsula. Kellen’s destination turned out to be on Morningside Drive, a house painted a subtle shade of apricot with tall arched windows that stretched across the front. The house looked big and had two stories, with not a blade of grass out of place. Lucky for Novak, Kellen’s neighbors were a good distance away.

  Novak drove on past when Kellen pulled into the driveway and stopped the convertible near the front sidewalk. He got out and strode briskly up to the glass-paned front door. He stopped there and fiddled with his keys. That meant it was his house or whoever lived there trusted him with a key. It looked like a perfect place to hide records or human cargo. Turning right at the next corner, Novak passed a couple of big homes and then took a right again and found the backyards that were divided by tall fences. There were houses on his right now, and tracts of natural Florida habitat on his left. The woods back there looked dark, with lots of trees and tangled undergrowth. Nothing stirred on that back loop, so it might be a way that Kellen could bring children to the house without being noticed. It was also a good place for Novak and Claire to park out of sight and keep an eye on his house.

  “Nice and private, just the way we like it,” Claire said as he pulled up and let the car idle under some overhanging mimosa trees. She was thinking the same way he was, another reason they got along so well. “Looks like we might get a chance to break in and take a look around. Tonight, I hope. That backyard wall’s not designed to keep people out.”

  Novak gave her a look. “Not such a good idea for you to be scaling walls. Black won’t like it. So I’ll go in alone this time. You can stand watch out here for me.”

  “C’mon, Novak,” she said but didn’t really argue. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. I plan to pick that lock hanging off the outside gate. Easy peasy.”

  “I can pick locks, too,” Novak said.

  That irked her. “I told you I’m not doing anything to hurt the baby, and that means infiltrating that house. You do it. Fine with me. I’ll come in when you’ve got it secured.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  The back wall looked about six feet high, built from the same stucco as the house. It enclosed the area of the backyard that bumped up to the house, and the rest of the yard was outside and left untamed. Novak could breach the wall, but the lock would be easier. On the near side of the wall, he spotted a little cluster of banana trees and small palms. Closer to the house, a grotto swimming pool had a waterfall and a good-sized cabana. What disturbed Novak was that this house, this yard, and the whole damn neighborhood appeared deserted. No movement, no action, which was odd at this time of day when people should be arriving home from work. They’d seen not a soul in the yards they had passed, nobody pulling weeds or mowing grass or walking dogs or watering flowers. They had not passed another vehicle. It could be everyone was out for dinner or the movies, or traveling abroad by the rich look of this neighborhood. It was nearly dark now. Maybe they were in front of TVs watching the Marlins play the Angels.

  Novak circled the block, trying to determine if Kellen was alone inside the house. Claire’s research had confirmed what he’d said about not having a wife or kids, but this was definitely not the address on his driver’s license. If nobody else showed up, Novak definitely wanted to check the place out. If Kellen kept files anywhere, he probably kept them here. Novak wanted to know who and what awaited him inside. Worst scenario: a herd of armed Skulls bunked there and showed off their Skull tattoos to each other in that grotto pool. Best scenario: Kellen was all by his lonesome and Novak could beat the shit out of him with no one any the wiser.

  “We can’t get inside until it gets dark. How about picking up something to eat for dinner?” Novak said. “I’m hungry, and we’ll probably be sitting watch for hours if he stays here all night. We can’t hang around here while it’s still light out. If he takes off again, we’ll go in.”

  “Fine with me.”

  “I’d rather just go in now and beat answers out of him.”

  “It’s too soon for that. That will alert his whole operation that we’re onto them, and you know it. Let’s take this guy down the legal way.”

  “I say you were a cop too long,” Novak said.

  “Good thing lately, with you out for blood like this. I’m going to snap some pictures of the house and see if I can find out who owns it by the street number on the mailbox.”

  “Okay, my bet is Kellen’s name is on that deed.”

  Novak drove out of the neighborhood, wishing they didn’t have to waste time. Claire was right, though; it would be better to move on the house later. The Lincoln would be noticed if they left it parked too long. So they found the nearest Olive Garden and ordered pasta to assuage Claire’s unbelievable appetite and were back out at Kellen’s about the time the streetlights blinked on. Lights were on in houses everywhere now, including Kellen’s place, so Novak drove past and rounded the back and parked under the same huge mimosa trees about thirty yards from Kellen’s gate.

  All remained dark and quiet for the next two hours. Kellen’s Mercedes still sat in the driveway. They could actually see him moving around upstairs because he’d left the shutters wide open. Good for them; bad for him. He didn’t appear to have a clue that they had been following him. They saw no one else inside the house. After another hour of watching and waiting, flashing headlights caught their attention from the front of the house, and they watched his white convertible drive past at the far end of the street.

  “Okay, he’s out of here. I need to get inside quick in case he comes back,” Novak said. “Text me if he shows. If that happens, have the motor running by the time I hit that gate.”

  “Yes, I’ll stay out here for now, but if I see anything going sideways in there, or he comes back before you get out, I’m coming in.”

  “Texting me is a safer bet. Just be ready to get out of here quick.”


  Novak leaned down and retrieved his .45 from under the seat, climbed out, and stuck the gun into his back waistband. He headed down alongside the edge of the woods, avoiding the small solar lights atop Kellen’s wall. As it turned out, climbing the wall wouldn’t be necessary. The spiked gate was unlocked and stood slightly ajar, an invitation to come in. Kellen obviously felt completely safe out here or was just plain stupid. Novak didn’t think he was stupid, but he might be overconfident. Before he went inside, he glanced back at the Lincoln. It was too dark to see Claire in the driver’s seat. That was good. He knew she had his night-vision glasses focused on him, and he felt better having her out there for backup. He was also glad she was being careful.

  Inside the wall, the pool and patio lights were turned off. A large glass slider led into the house. Novak pulled out his weapon and skirted the wall around to the patio door. It only took seconds to pick the lock. When he nudged the slider back, a blast of cold air hit him. Waiting a second, he heard nothing, so he ducked inside and stood motionlessly, listening. The only sound came from the soft rush of air through the vents. Switching on a penlight, he quickly checked out both the upstairs and downstairs to make sure he was alone. The rooms were spacious and airy. The furniture was modern stuff that looked uncomfortable. The house smelled like a Mexican restaurant, no doubt because of the leftover tacos he found sitting atop the stove. Novak swiftly searched the first floor and found nothing. Once he thought he heard a car start up but saw nothing when he checked outside. Kellen’s car was not in the driveway. Slanting open the wide shutters, he saw nobody stirring anywhere around the house. He still had time.

  Novak checked inside the big double garage, where a mud-spattered orange Jeep Wrangler was sitting with the keys still in the ignition. He searched inside the vehicle but found nothing except some fast-food cups and burger wrappers. He moved back into the house and climbed the stairs and methodically tossed the bedrooms one at a time. He found nothing up there but unmade beds and empty drawers and closets. Then he hit the jackpot. A home office at the front of the house overlooked the front yard. He rifled through the desk drawers and located files in an unlocked bottom drawer. He pulled them out and skimmed the contents and found nothing adoption related, not that he had expected to. The papers were receipts for home repairs, tax bills, and monthly utilities. He gathered them together anyway and picked up the small laptop sitting on top of the desk.

  After that, he descended to the living room and headed straight for the back door. Maybe he had enough for Claire to trace ownership of the house and where and how the bills were paid. They might get lucky and find a connection they could use to nail this guy. He slid back the door and stepped out into the darkness. That’s where his luck ran out.

  A big guy stepped out right in front of him. He had a Luger semiautomatic, and it was pointed at Novak’s heart. In the dim light, he saw Jimbo embroidered on his leather vest right next to all the kill patches.

  “Well, look who’s here,” Jimbo said. “Just the guy we’ve all been lookin’ for.” It sounded like Jimbo might hail from south Alabama or thereabouts. His drawl took a while to get out of his mouth. “How about you puttin’ down that gun and hittin’ the ground, big guy? I got some friends who want to mess you up.”

  Novak pointed his equally lethal .45 at Jimbo’s face. “Don’t think I’m going to do that, Jimbo.”

  “Get down, I said, or I’ll blow you away. Flat on your belly, hands out wide. I heard how you coldcocked Tige the other night on the beach. Guys and me’ve been looking for you ever since. Payback ain’t gonna be fun for you, but it’s comin’.”

  Novak stood still. Jimbo had the upper hand. Novak would die if he pulled that trigger. It was still trained on his heart. Novak’s .45 slug would kill Jimbo, but then he’d be dead, too. He had been careless and failed to check out the cabana first, which he was pretty sure was where Jimbo had come from. Now he was in trouble. He hoped Claire could see them but had a feeling she couldn’t. Jimbo took a step closer and transferred his aim to Novak’s face. Half a step more, and Novak was pretty sure he could disarm him without getting his head blown off.

  Novak didn’t wait to find out. He lunged to one side as he slapped Jimbo’s weapon up. Then he hit him hard in the stomach with his fist. Jimbo wheezed and bent over but tried to block the uppercut Novak sent up against his chin. Novak managed to get a piece of his jaw. The man staggered backward, still holding on to his weapon, and Novak blocked his arm up again and tackled him full body before he could pull the trigger. Jimbo was more agile than he looked and twisted around until he got Novak on his back. Novak jerked up his hand and broke the guy’s nose with his gun butt. Jimbo yelled as blood spewed out and sprayed Novak in the face. Jimbo rolled off him, clutching his bloody face and moaning with pain. Novak got in another violent blow with the pistol against his left temple, and the guy fell on his back and didn’t move.

  Novak grabbed the discarded gun and pushed himself to his feet, breathing hard. Then he kicked Jimbo in the side of the head for good measure. Leaning against the wall, he stuck the Luger in his waistband and looked around. He hadn’t heard any vehicles except for the one time, and it hadn’t sounded like a Harley. Claire hadn’t texted or honked or blinked her lights, so it looked like Jimbo had been alone inside that cabana. He hoped.

  Novak glanced out where he’d parked the Lincoln, but it was too dark to see it. He wiped blood off his face and left the guy lying unconscious and bleeding, and moved over to the cabana door. He listened, then turned the door handle, holding his weapon ready. Inside, it was pitch black. Keeping behind the door for cover, he reached around and felt along the wall for a light switch. He hit the button, and the room lit up like high noon. Novak squinted in the glare and stared at a small woman sitting on a makeshift bed in the far corner. She was heavily pregnant, at least eight months gone. Her mouth was covered with duct tape. Tethered by chains on one hand and one foot, she cringed away from him and pressed her back up against the wall.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, lowering his weapon. He glanced around, but no one else was inside. Nothing was in that room except for the woman, an oversized camp chair, the cot, and one table with a lamp. There was another door, which he checked out and found opened to a small bathroom. He approached the young woman slowly, holding his hands up but keeping a grip on the gun, attempting to show that he meant her no harm. When he went down on one knee a couple of yards away, she looked terrified and pressed herself farther away from him. Novak had to keep her calm. “Look, I just put down that guy named Jimbo out there by the pool. Was he the one holding you captive in here?”

  The woman stared at him, eyes wide, and then she nodded before she burst into hysterical tears. The keys to the handcuffs and shackles were hanging on a nail beside the door, and Novak got them off of her as fast as he could. She was not calming down. “Shh now, you’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m taking you out of here. I’m taking you home.”

  When he pulled the tape off her mouth, she started babbling. “Hurry up, please hurry. They’re coming back, and there’s so many of them. Please, please—”

  “C’mon, can you get up? Can you walk?”

  She kept sobbing. “They’re going to take my baby as soon as it’s born, and they’re going to kill me! That’s what they do to us!” She was full-out hysterical now, and her horror came out in jumbled panic. Novak was pretty sure she was too scared to think straight, much less tell him what happened. All he could think about right now was getting her out of there. Even better, she was a witness who could name Max Kellen’s house as the place she was held prisoner. That alone could put Kellen away for a long time. He helped her to her feet, but she cringed away from his touch.

  Wobbly at first, she made it with Novak’s help outside to where Jimbo still lay unconscious on his back. Novak debated for a few seconds whether he should tape Jimbo’s hands and feet and decided he
didn’t have time. Jimbo was out for the count, anyway. When his phone vibrated inside his pocket, he grabbed it and read Claire’s name. He picked up. “I got a girl they’ve been holding in here,” he told her. “Start the car and get ready to move. I’m bringing her out right now.”

  “That’s funny. I got me a girl, too, a good-lookin’ one.”

  It wasn’t Claire. It was a man’s voice, gruff and amused. “Don’t think I want to trade, though. She’s the one we been looking all over for.”

  Then the line went dead.

  Novak froze with the phone to his ear for a few seconds, and then his heartbeat went into overdrive. No, they could not have Claire, no way. Lowering the weeping woman into a patio chair, he ran hard for the back gate, leading with his gun. He burst out onto the dark street and looked down at the mimosa trees. The Lincoln was gone.

  Chapter 7

  Stunned, Novak stared down the dark street, disbelieving what he saw right in front of him. Oh, God, somehow the Skulls had found them. They had Claire. Claire was gone, taken captive by a bunch of savage killers and perverts. For the first moment, he didn’t know what to do. He felt a strange kind of helpless, hopeless paralysis. He was not used to feeling like that. Then he got it together. He had to do something fast; he needed to act. He needed to find her, and he had to find her before anything happened to her. The kind of immobilizing fear that he’d rarely ever let himself feel was threatening. His hands shook as he pulled out his phone and called her back. He got voicemail, but the message went dead halfway through.

  How had Novak not heard the Lincoln start up or anything else suspicious? He’d made a point to listen for cars. He’d looked out the blinds several times. He thought he’d heard something once. That had to be when they took her. They had gotten the drop on her, but how? Claire knew to watch her back. She hadn’t had time to warn him or call for help. Maybe they sent Jimbo in to pick up the girl in the cabana and didn’t know Novak was in there until they got her. None of that mattered. Claire was gone, and God only knew where or what they were planning to do to her. Bitter bile gushed up the back of his throat, and he almost choked on emotion. Oh, God, she was pregnant, too.