“Better than TV,” he said, banging the porch with his cane, a demented grin on his face.
Garrett crossed the street and smiled at him.
“You know how long those guys were sitting there?” he asked.
The old fellow shrugged his thin shoulders and cackled again, revealing a mouth full of missing teeth.
“I jest came out ten minutes ago,” he said. “Soon’s
Law & Order
ended. Better show out here.”
“Any idea who they were?”
“Nope. But it’s not the first time. Big guy, my neighbor? I think he knows some pretty bad people. But he always rakes my leaves for me in the fall.”
Garrett just nodded. Maybe he and Lonnie had been targeted by DeMaio. He wouldn’t put anything past the CEO. A big power broker like that would think nothing of stomping out any little bugs that irritated him. Of course, given what Lonnie did for a living, the attackers could have also been from any of a dozen other interests that Lonnie had annoyed. Still, it seemed unlikely anyone would mistake Garrett for his cousin.
He retreated to his car and drove slowly down the street. He wasn’t so sure it was a good idea for Lonnie to rent out an apartment to their cousin’s daughter. She might get in the crosshairs by mistake. He’d mention it … if he ever found him.
Someone was playing for keeps. He wondered if Lloyd might have sicced the Global Resources people on them. But the more he thought about it, the more he doubted that scenario. Lloyd was too much of a coward and was well aware of Lonnie’s reputation. He would avoid having anything to do with him.
That left DeMaio himself. It wouldn’t have been hard for the CEO to determine who Garrett was, following the press briefing, though it was pretty hard to believe the man would actually attempt to kill an RCMP officer. Still, DeMaio had been more than surprised when Garrett said he’d been on the oil rig and seen the accommodations himself. If word reached the CEO that Garrett was a Special Constable with expertise in prostitution … well … that put Garrett with way more information than DeMaio would be able to accept. The CEO had too much to lose.
Things were heating up. He wondered again what was happening to poor Kitty. Then he slammed on his brakes in the middle of the street. A man in a sports car careened around him, cursing loudly out his window. But Garrett hardly heard him.
DeMaio would hire only professionals. One thing you could count on from the very rich was for them to always hire the best. If they had wanted to kill him, they would have done so. Which meant they were sending a message. One that worried him a lot more than just getting shot at.
He picked up his cell phone and called Sarah. By the tenth ring, he was already speeding down the highway toward the bridge, his temporary police light stuck on his roof. The message he feared was that someone close to him might be at risk—as a warning to him.
47
H
IS WORST FEARS WERE REALIZED
when he turned in to Sarah’s little cottage. Milling around outside was Tom, along with his counterpart from up the shore, Arthur Parmenter. Even Alvin was there, in his Halifax patrol car.
Garrett just nodded at them and said, “Where is she?”
Before anyone could speak, Lila and Ayesha came running out of the house. Lila had an angry bruise on her cheek.
“Oh, Garrett,” she cried, “Some men came and took Sarah away. We tried to stop them but they just knocked me down. One of them told me to tell you it was time to stop poking your nose where it wasn’t wanted.”
Garrett’s heart sank. He put one hand gently on Lila’s cheek. “They did this to you?”
She nodded, tears running down her face. But they weren’t for the bruise. She’d been hit plenty of times during her years at Sweet Angels. The tears were for Sarah. “Why did they take her, Garrett? What’s going on?”
“We’d like to know that too,” said Alvin. “Tom here called it in to Tuttle and he sent me down to see if I could help.”
“Thanks, Alvin. And you too, Tom and Arthur.” He took a deep breath. “They took her to get to me. To get me to stop investigating this DeMaio character who runs Global Resources. They think they’re more powerful than God.”
“What do you want us to do?” Tom asked.
Garrett stared at the wharf. What would they do with her? Would they take her to the oil rig like Kitty? He didn’t think so, or at least he didn’t want to think about that possibility. They’d want to hide her away some place safe, where no one else would find or see her. Until they were certain Garrett would do as he was told.
He thought about Madame Liu’s high-end Victorian house and that little barred bungalow where the girls were locked up at night on the island. “Tom, can you and Arthur check out Madame Liu’s compound on the island in Lake Micmac? I’ve talked to Tuttle about it. He’ll help you set up a raid.”
Tom nodded slowly. “Okay. What about you?”
“Another possibility I’m going to look into. Alvin can help me.” He looked at his friend, who nodded. He was glad Alvin had come. He was a short, wiry little guy with a chip on his shoulder, but he was a pit bull.
Garrett turned to the girls. “Will you be all right here by yourselves?”
“Of course,” Lila said indignantly. “We’re not babies. But isn’t there something else we can do?”
“Yes,” he said. “Can you tell me anything at all about Lloyd that might be useful? I’ve got to find him. He’s in this up to his neck, but he’s disappeared. Lonnie put the fear of God into him. I should have collared him when I had the chance. You have any idea where he might go to hide out?”
Lila looked defeated. “No, I’m sorry, Garrett. He has a house down the other side of Necum Teuch, but he wouldn’t go there if he was hiding.” She hesitated.
“What?”
“He used to take one of the kids at the home away with him sometimes. Said he had some yard work for him to do at his cabin. But the kid was gay, and we all kind of thought that had something to do with it.”
“Lloyd is gay?” Garrett could hardly believe it. The man obviously relished his power over the young girls, and the way he looked at Kitty … it just didn’t seem likely.
“I think he’s bisexual,” Lila said. “We got them sometimes at Sweet Angels. Even a few who would ask for a girl and a boy at the same time. Anyway, he was obsessed by sex. It’s practically all he thought about. He liked for the guys to see him when he was naked just as much as the girls.”
“All right, thanks, Lila. It’s important to know. I want you to call anyone you can think of who might know something about Lloyd’s whereabouts. In the city or at Lloyd’s Haven. If you call the Haven, pretend you’re a parent wanting to talk to your child.”
She perked up. “All right, Garrett. I can do that.”
He gave her his cell phone number.
Alvin said, “You have any idea at all where we’re going to look for this guy?”
“We’ll start at Lloyd’s Haven. It’s the only place I can think of. Lloyd knows more than he told Lonnie. I’m certain of it. He’s the loose thread in all of this, and I’m going to pull it until his head explodes.”
48
I
T WAS A WINDY NIGHT
on the ocean, signaling, perhaps, yet another storm moving up the Atlantic seaboard.
Lonnie lumbered along the Halifax waterfront. It was after eleven and the streets were mostly deserted. Only the requisite derelicts, a handful of hookers, and a police patrol car or two occupied the quiet byways. All of them watched Lonnie pass uneasily. The police knew who he was and had come to have a grudging respect for him. Some of that came from Lonnie’s connection to Garrett. That he was often engaged in activities of borderline legality didn’t escape the authorities, but they’d learned that the big man’s word was good and that they could rely on him for an occasional tip when it came to pimps or the odd mugger.
But there would be no tips tonight. Lonnie was on a mission. He’d seen Kitty on TV a few times. She was a looker, and he knew she had to be deep into the worst nightmare of her young life. He couldn’t really describe the way he felt. Anger that a promising young reporter should have to find herself in such a position. He felt a slow rage building deep within him, its source long ago primed by his grandmother.
His years in the business of enforcement on the docks of Halifax and Dartmouth had given him many contacts. Now one of them waited for him beside a deserted wharf in a speedboat with a powerful engine.
His intentions were still not fully thought out. But he was dressed in dark clothes and armed with a nine-millimeter Luger, a short-nosed .45 in an ankle holster, and an ugly looking knife with a six-inch blade. Normally a walking fortress of muscle and determination, the extra firepower made him an arsenal that no one in his right mind would want to come upon on a dark night … on the docks or anywhere else.
Garrett had his limitations being an RCMP officer. Even though he wore no uniform and drove his crappy old unmarked Subaru, Lonnie knew the supposed autonomy of action these things gave Garrett were superficial at best. He’d always tried to help his cousin whenever he could. Partly, he felt responsible for him after the injury in Iraq. There had been a lengthy recuperation period and several bouts of depression that Lonnie had helped Garrett fight through. Garrett was the closest family he had and he would do anything for him. Right now, however, what he wanted most was to try to rescue Kitty. And he knew Garrett was bound by rules and regulations that didn’t apply to him.
He scanned the side of the wharf and saw the boat. It was sleek and fast-looking, painted black, with only a single running light. A low spray screen gave the skipper limited protection from the elements. The lone man on board saw him and waved an arm.
A moment later, they were motoring out past George’s Island. Once out of the harbor, his companion pushed the throttle all the way out and they barreled up the coast, the craft taking huge, airborne leaps over the rising swells. It would take three hours to reach the oil rig. The pilot was an experienced navigator in these waters. Even at night in bad weather, he’d have no trouble avoiding the numerous shoals.
They exchanged few words. The man in charge of the boat knew from experience that Lonnie generally had little to say and was undoubtedly up to something unusual, if not downright illegal. Better to just pay his debt to the big man and keep his mouth shut.
Lonnie sat, filling the entire back seat of the craft, and watched the seas pass underneath, black and viscous, like riding on the sort of thick oil that might one day be sucked from beneath the ocean by a rig like the one beyond Lighthouse Point.
He hadn’t put a lot of thought into what was going to happen. He was a born improviser and suspected the oil rig, still not producing oil according to DeMaio, would likely be populated by only a handful of workers, roughnecks who had no reason to be armed. Perhaps there would be some security, but whatever sort of low-level guards were employed by the company, it was certain they had never come up against someone like Lonnie. Besides, there simply hadn’t been time to work out the details. Speed was of the essence. There was no telling how much time Kitty had.
He allowed his mind to wander as the boat powered through the swells. He almost felt like he was on patrol in Afghanistan and hoped, as he had on so many missions in that far-off country, that he’d be in and out quickly, with as few casualties as possible.
But that would depend entirely on the attitude of those he encountered. Only one thing was certain. He wasn’t leaving the rig without her.
49
A
S THEY PULLED INTO LLOYD’S
Haven for Troubled Youth, Garrett could sense Alvin’s intensity. The little guy was wired.
“Take it easy,” Garrett said. “He’s not going to be here. We’re just going to talk to the kids. See what we can find out.”
“I just want to bust the guy one time in the chops,” Alvin said, slapping his fist into the palm of his other hand.
“You might have to get in line,” Garrett replied.
It was immediately clear that Lloyd wasn’t around. In fact, it looked like the “troubled youth” had the run of the place. Kids lolled about everywhere they looked. Three tough-looking teens Garrett hadn’t seen before sat on crotch rockets in the drive, bullshitting with one another. Others sat on the porch, which was a mess of food wrappers, empty beer bottles, and discarded clothing. No one was working in the gardens, and they saw no adults around at all.
Alvin was in uniform and his appearance caused some consternation as he and Garrett got out of the car. One of the motorcycle riders, a big guy with tattoos and a shaved head, looked at the diminutive Mountie and burst out laughing.
“It’s a midget cop,” he said to one of his friends.
Alvin was in the guy’s face in a second, bracing him and pushing him off the bike onto the ground. The bike fell hard onto the pavement, breaking the mirror.
“You sonofabitch!” the big guy said. “I’ll take you apart.” He scrambled to his feet only to find himself staring down the barrel of Alvin’s pistol. Alvin cocked the gun and put it right on the guy’s nose.
“Back off, asshole,” he said.
Garrett eased around beside Alvin and put one hand on his gun arm. Slowly, Alvin lowered the weapon, though he kept it cocked.
Garrett saw several kids he knew on the porch. “Why don’t you guys beat it,” he said to the bikers.
The three teens glared at them for a moment, then shrugged, got on their bikes, and peeled out with loud squeals, leaving rubber tire marks on the pavement.
Garrett went up onto the porch. The girl who’d been doing lip-locks with the overweight kid at the bonfire sat with two friends. She smiled at Garrett. “I was hoping you’d plug those shitkickers,” she said. “Been trying to put the moves on us.”
“Looking for Lloyd,” Garrett said. “Guess he’s not around.”
“He was here earlier,” she said. “Seemed pretty nervous about something. Only stayed long enough to pick up his boy toy and then they split.”
“Who’s the boy toy?”
“Reggie,” she said. “Not the first time he’s gone with our great and perverted leader.”