by Linda Ladd
“What about his routine? Is it predictable?”
Lori looked at him again. “I followed him around for two days. He’s as good as clockwork. He leaves the Locke estate at eight sharp every morning and is driven down to Galveston Island to the courthouse. He stays there until the docket’s done but is usually back home around six.”
“But he lives in River Oaks?”
“Yes, where else? It’s one of the wealthiest communities in Texas. Maybe in the entire country. You know, motorized security gates, perfect lawns, high walls, and top-of-the-line alarm systems. He’s got a weak spot, though.”
Novak took interest. “What’s that?”
“His hobbies. He’s got the hots for orchids, believe it or not, you know, those exotic kinds of flowers. I mean, he acts like some kind of nutcase about them. He’s got his own hothouse on the estate worth a small fortune. He loves those stupid flowers, dude, you just wouldn’t believe how he acts about them. He babies them and talks to them and waters them with little squirt bottles. It’s nuts, man. He likes collecting guns, too, which I can understand. You know what kinds: antique muskets, black powder, rare dueling pistols, and he loves derringers. All those weapons are worth tons of money. He brags that he’s got Wyatt Earp’s legit six-shooter from the O.K. Corral.”
“He attends court every day?”
“Most days, I guess, but not on weekends. They shut down, I think.”
“So we can usually pinpoint his whereabouts by the time of day?”
She nodded. “I guess so.”
“Who’s the easier target? Locke or Hennessey?”
“Neither.”
That wasn’t an answer. Novak waited. She seemed a little hyper now.
“I guess Locke might be easier. Hennessey’s mobbed up in the rough stuff. Drugs, prostitution, sex trafficking, you name it. I heard he’s into white slavery, too. He’s as dirty as they come. I’ve never met him, but Judith told me he’s huge, maybe even bigger than you. What are you, anyway? Six feet seven, eight?”
“Something like that.”
“She says his head’s the size of a basketball and completely bald. She told me his eyes are awful: cold and black as midnight, and they look right through you. She said he sent a shiver down her back when she first saw him. He grins all the time but nothing ever reaches his eyes.”
“How does Frank fit in with these guys?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think he is any kind of pal to them. Other than knowing what he does about the criminal element in the Houston area. Frank’s been a PI around here a long time. That makes him savvy to the undercurrents.”
“Frank’s savvy in lots of ways.”
“He’s in bad shape. That’s one reason I came looking for you. He’s not acting rational. Sometimes he’s dead-on, but then he goes off when he starts thinking about what’s happening to Lucy. She’s his only kid, and she’s just so young. He can’t stand the thought of her being with those men. I can’t, either.”
Novak didn’t say anything. What father wouldn’t feel helpless and angry? Lucy was such a sweet little kid, a tomboy with all that thick curly red hair and freckles, and usually wearing a baseball cap turned backward. She had always been Frank’s pride and joy, good at sports, running track, and the goalie on her soccer team. Fear rose inside Novak, too, just thinking about what they could be doing to her. The men Lori had tangled with in NOLA could hurt that kid in ways she would never recover from. Frank had been teetering on the edge of panic ever since Novak had been with him, and a frantic, desperate Frank Caloroso with a deadly weapon was not someone you ever wanted to meet up with. He would be hard to talk down or take down.
“Okay, when we get to Galveston, we’ll figure out where to hit them first. You need to come up with the most likely spot where they’re holding Judith and Lucy. You’re right, you have a good feel for these people, and we’ve got to use it. Try to remember everything your friend’s told you about her family, her other friends, any vacation homes, anything where they might be holding them. A cabin in the woods, or maybe he’s got a private apartment in Houston. He’s got them locked up somewhere, but I’d guess his mansion would be the most secure place to keep them. It’ll be easier if we go in after Judith first. Then hopefully she might know where Lucy is. We will get both of them back. I promise you that.”
Lori didn’t believe him. “You can’t promise that.”
She was right, but he didn’t want her to think that way. “I said we’ll get them back, and we will.”
Her eyes told him that she still didn’t believe him.
Chapter 7
Due to the bad weather, the voyage took four full days at sea, which equated with four full days of wasted time. The winds that blew in did give them time to rest up, recuperate, and double down on what they had to do. Novak felt uneasy as the delay dragged on and grew more so as he uncovered more information about the criminal element they were about to face. It was readily apparent that the three of them were outnumbered, outgunned, and out everything else. All they did have was the element of surprise, and even that was now questionable. He did not want to give the judge time to gather allies or call in favors. His worst fear was they’d run into a lethal welcoming party at Frank’s fish camp.
When the coast of Texas finally loomed up in the distance, Novak navigated the boat north of Galveston to the Texas Point National Wildlife Refuge and took the inlet off the Gulf that led to Sabine Lake. Frank’s fish camp was just north of the refuge boundary on an offshoot of the lake. He’d been there before, but the course looked a bit different. Once they got off the main channel and into the waterway leading into Frank’s place, they passed no other boats nor saw any people. Thick woods and tangled vegetation lined both banks, and the distance from Houston and inaccessibility would give them good cover. He no longer expected a welcoming party.
The river was shallow but navigable with muddy water which made it unpopular with swimmers and ski boats. The alligators didn’t help, either. Only serious fishermen enjoyed its bounty. They passed a couple of deserted docks and one uninhabited cabin that looked like its roof had been blown off by hurricane winds. This was indeed a good hiding place that would give them the sanctuary they needed, and the deed was not in Frank’s name. No paper trail to follow ownership to Frank.
Novak motored along, sails furled, watching the riverbanks. The first thing he glimpsed was the widow’s walk Frank had built atop his two-story cabin for some unknown reason. That was Frank and one of his whims. The log cabin was rustic and raw but snug and comfortable. The two of them had spent a lot of good times in that house, fishing and drinking beer around a campfire. That probably was not going to happen this time.
A fine drizzle wet their windbreakers and obscured the bank in a thick gray mist by the time they chugged up alongside Frank’s property. A grove of oak and hickory trees surrounded the cabin, and as they slid alongside the long dock, the rain drummed itself to a downpour, plastering Novak’s hair to his scalp. Frank jumped down onto the planks and expertly secured the lines. Thunder rumbled up slowly from somewhere downstream and sounded like the battle drums of shogun warriors. Novak helped Lori off the deck and across the gangplank, and Frank lifted her down onto the slippery dock. Novak followed them as they took off for the house. A jagged fork of lightning split the sky, and the ground shook under Novak’s feet as it struck somewhere in the woods behind the cabin. The bad omens just kept on coming.
Frank ran up the steps to the screened porch. Although Frank and Lucy had a nice home on Galveston Island, he loved this place and vowed never to sell it. Novak felt the same way about Bonne Terre, which boasted the same hushed quiet and slow ebb and flow of the bayou out back. More than that, he liked the complete separation from all things deemed civilized, like crowds and malls and traffic jams. Locke wouldn’t be able to find this place, not without a lot of time and effort. Novak climbed to the po
rch and thought about time he’d spent sitting out there. But that was a long time ago. Things were different now. Evil was closing in on them. Frank ushered them into the living room and then went into the linen closet to fetch them towels.
“You still got vehicles out here, Frank? The ones that nobody knows are yours?”
“Got two now. Both locked up in the barn.”
“What kind?”
“You know good and well what kind. One is my blue 1969 Mustang Mach 1 that I drove down here from New York. I’ve kept it out there under a tarp for sentimental reasons. My wife and I had some good times in that car. The other vehicle’s a used 2012 black Jeep Cherokee that I picked up a few years ago. Only time I drive either is to the gas station about a mile down the road or up to Port Arthur. Never have gone into Galveston, Houston, or even Sabine Pass in them. My Audi’s still sitting in my driveway in Galveston. I took an Uber to the airport when I headed to New Orleans. Nobody can link either of these to me. They’re a safe bet to take into Houston, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“They’ll be watching your place. Where are you staying, Lori?”
“I got a motel room in north Houston. My car’s still in long-term parking at the airport.”
“Well, you can’t go anywhere near them, just to be on the safe side.” Novak was eager to get a move on, take off now to look for Lucy, but he knew better. “There’s got to be more going on here than meets the eye. Lori, they followed you out of state to capture you and rough you up, maybe even kill you. Why? Just because you’re asking questions about an old friend? I think there’s more to this. Hell, Frank, what if you just had gone straight to the FBI about Lucy’s abduction instead of backing off trying to find Judith? They didn’t know you wouldn’t do that. They’re taking a chance threatening you and going after Lori.”
“Hennessey’s probably involved now and worried Judith has dirt that would blow back on him,” Lori suggested. “He’ll be suspicious about the judge locking her up at his estate. He’s paranoid to the extreme, that’s why he kills anyone who looks at him wrong. If he figures out she’s turning evidence, he’ll murder her and start a mob war with the judge.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, a mob war between them. Let them kill each other off, that’s fine with me,” Novak said.
“We’ve got to find Lucy before we do anything else. She comes first.” Frank’s face looked flushed and angry.
“Look, Frank, we will find Lucy, but we’ve got to lie low for a few days. I understand how worried you are, I’m worried, too, but we’ve got to be smart or we won’t have a chance against those guys. We can’t jump the gun and do something rash that’ll get your kid killed.”
Frank glared at him and turned away.
Novak let him stew. He didn’t blame him for being pissed off, but he was going to have to use his head and not his heart. “All right, Frank, we’ll do something now. Let’s drive into town and see what we can find out. The rain’s still coming down hard. That’ll be a good cover for us, especially since they won’t recognize either of your cars.”
Lori stood up. “I’m going, too, and don’t try to talk me of it. I can’t sit out here by myself and do nothing. Frank and I have waited long enough to do something.”
“Did I say you couldn’t come?”
They couldn’t take the blue Mustang, way too noteworthy. It would stick out like a New Yorker inside a Cracker Barrel restaurant. So they piled into the Jeep Cherokee. It was filthy, inside and out. Both the fenders and wheel wells were covered with dried mud. That wouldn’t last long under the pelting rain. The Jeep would be spotless by the time they reached the city. The dust caked on the windows turned to mud smears, and then the wipers did their job and washed it clean enough to see.
The drive took a long time. They drove over narrow wooded gravel for a time and then got on some blacktopped state highways, all of which had seen better days. Potholes and cracks in the tarmac made for a rough ride as the storm grew fierce and raged on. Novak didn’t mind the bad weather. At least they were on the move now. They finally hit Interstate 10 that would take them into Houston proper. Not much traffic because of the late hour and downpour, and not much conversation inside the Jeep. Novak drove, and the other two sat in the back seat hidden behind smoked glass windows. When they reached the giant outside sprawl of Houston, Frank and Lori slouched down. Both their names were written in blood on Calvin Locke’s hit list. That meant Novak was pretty much on his own, but that’s the way he liked it. He’d been a loner since he’d lost his family.
Lori keyed in Calvin Locke’s address on her cell phone, which gave him precise directions to the mansion inside River Oaks. Novak felt certain it was the guy’s palatial nerve center for rampant criminal operations. Novak had been in Houston lots of times, but it hadn’t been for a while. He remembered the Loop with all the hotels and the murderous traffic. Logistically, he was going to need the other two for guidance. “Exactly where is this place, Lori?”
“It’s on the main drag called River Oaks Boulevard, where money grows on trees. This is a fancy-ass place. John Connolly lived in here—I guess he still does if he’s still alive—and Joel Osteen, that cute evangelist. The real estate prices are gargantuan, most estates inherited. Calvin Locke’s is. His daddy and granddaddy were big oil tycoons back in the day.”
“I think we should burn down the entire place,” Frank suggested from the back seat, still in a bad way.
“Maybe we will, or parts of it. Let’s just see how it all shakes out before we inflict undue damage.”
When they turned onto the aforementioned boulevard, it was wide and lovely with neat sidewalks and green grass and nice bright streetlights. The rain even let up as if in awe and unwilling to shower upon rich folks’ homes. Lots of mansions and estates lined both sides, some sitting back off the street inside privacy walls. Calvin Locke’s property turned out to be the biggest diamond in this crown jewel of communities. Glimpses of the resplendent red-bricked Georgian mansion showed them perfection with symmetrical white pillars and huge wings stretching out on either side. There were balconies outside giant Palladian windows, lots of chimneys, and a ton of Disney World–worthy landscaping. The house sat deep into the acreage and was just barely perceptible from the street. Yes, the rich and famous and powerful cowboys of Houston wanted their fellow citizens to know who they were and that they were to be coveted for their wealth.
“His place is bigger than the other estates,” Novak commented as they drove along a six-foot-high white brick wall that followed the property lines down the street and around the corner to a private alley at the rear of the back gardens. “How did Locke manage to accumulate this much real estate in a neighborhood like this?”
“He’s rich as Bill Gates, is why,” Lori told him. “His original property was huge, because it was one of the first in here, and then he gradually bought up every house around his as they came up for sale and then demolished them. Judith said some of those places were beautiful and historic. Any homeowner who balked at selling eventually gave in or disappeared mysteriously. He did the same thing out at the beach. He likes to enclose himself in a compound for obvious reasons. Calvin’s well-known around here for getting exactly what he wants when he wants it, one way or another. Judith calls him the Emperor of Houston.”
“What about that beach house? Easier to get into than this one?”
“Yes, but he’s got guards posted out there, too. Most of his men are stationed inside these walls, though. Judith says not as many are around as there used to be. I guess he wants to feel invincible, and he’s bribing half the cops in this town.”
“He’s a judge in Galveston, and he lives up here?”
“The beach house takes care of the residency requirements. He calls it his main house and shows up there a lot, but he lives here.”
“I think Judith and Lucy are both inside this place. It looks
like a freaking prison.” That was Frank.
“You saw the kind of guys who held me in New Orleans,” Lori said to Novak, leaning up and bracing her good arm on the back of the front seat. “Armed and deadly but not exactly mental giants. They shoot first and don’t care who goes down. Neither does Judge Locke. Bodies just disappear, never to be found. Probably dumped at sea. Locke doesn’t answer to anybody anymore. Not in this city, anyway.”
“They can’t shoot first if they’re dead,” Novak said. “Everybody answers to somebody. That goes for Locke, too. He’s got a weakness. I’m going to find it and exploit it.”
“Novak knows what he’s doing, Lori. You can trust him.”
“How many men patrol inside this estate?” Novak asked Lori. “Give me a guess, if you don’t know for sure.”
Lori thought it over but not for long. “When I was here on spring breaks, I’d say there were, maybe, fifteen to twenty, all armed with handguns. Maybe more, I think they worked in shifts. At the time, I didn’t pay much attention to them. They kept a low profile, but they were always there. Judith called them bodyguards. I didn’t question that, him being a judge and all. They wore those headphones to communicate, I remember that because I told Judith they looked like FBI agents.”
“How many were posted inside the house?”
“A few, maybe. They kept in the background. Judith knew most of them by name and acted like it was no big deal for them to hang around. They’re posted outside, I think. I don’t know their routine. Wish I could tell you more.”
“The perimeter wall, does it have other outside gates?”
“They use that big front gate between the pillars most of the time. It’s got a talk box and a security camera. You’ve got to swipe a special card the guards wear on lanyards to spring the gate. There’s another gate out back that comes out in their private drive behind the house. It opens from his rose garden and that’s near the hothouse where he has his orchids.”