Devil Dead (28 page)

Well after midnight on the day that Will and Claire had visited his plantation, Will sat inside his truck across the street from the Tit Tats restaurant. A nagging feeling was eating at him about how things were going down since he'd met up with Claire Morgan. There was something very wrong with the whole Quinn scenario. His gut was telling him that the missing girl was probably dead and buried, most likely sunk deep with concrete blocks in some dark, murky, alligator-infested swamp south of New Orleans. She wouldn't be the first college kid to meet up with bad guys preying the streets of the Vieux Carre, and not the last dead body pulled out of those bayous, either.

At first, Claire had scoffed at the growing indications of a satanist angle, but she wasn't laughing anymore. He had known better than to shrug off that very real possibility, and from day one. People into that kind of thing were either stark-raving nuts or stupid kids out for a thrill ride, but either way, it was a dangerous pastime. Satanic altars and Black Sabbaths had a history in the bayous ever since Napoleon Bonaparte sold Louisiana to America. Maybe not in Novak's own neck of the woods, but there were lots of dark, evil places where devil worshippers could perform unholy rites with nobody the wiser. He didn't know if the missing girl had been dumb enough to wander down that road, but he was afraid she had. Too many pentagrams had shown up on the case thus far to be discounted. If there really was a satanic cult offing people, he and Claire had better be careful where they stepped. And they had better find the coven, or whatever the hell it was, and fast, or their girl really was a goner.

It was almost Tit Tats' closing time, and the sign outside had blinked off several minutes ago. The employees were now straggling out the front door in their provocative little outfits. He had been very surprised when Claire had agreed to wear the come-hither shorts and tight tops, but he shouldn't have been. She was pretty much game for anything, that was for damn sure, if it got them any kind of lead. Which was a good thing, and a bad thing. At this point, he wasn't at all sure that Claire Morgan was much afraid to do anything, either, and that definitely was not a good thing. She was damn good at what she did, however, and despite his first faulty impression of her, she was growing on him. On the other hand, Nicholas Black was right on to worry about her. Hell, Novak was sitting there worrying about her, too, and he barely even knew the woman.

Yep, Claire definitely needed a partner who'd watch her back and make sure she stayed upright and walking around in one piece. Right now, he wished she would hurry up and come outside so they could tail the Lydie lady home. Sitting alone in the dark with his worried thoughts had gone on long enough, but he kept watching for trouble inside the giant plate glass windows because he had a feeling it was coming. So far, nothing had happened, except for his growing impatience as the minutes slowly ticked by.

At eleven minutes after one o'clock in the morning, Claire walked out of the restaurant with Lydie Creedy. After a couple of minutes chatting together near the door, the two women strolled out onto the parking lot on the east side of the restaurant. They stopped there again and talked in front of a 2009 black Taurus, and then Creedy climbed inside the Taurus and drove away. That's when Claire started walking swiftly toward Novak's truck. He fired up the engine as Creedy pulled out to the street and hung a left.

He rolled the truck forward to pick up Claire on the opposite sidewalk. That's when a figure dressed in dark clothing materialized from behind a late-model red Bronco right behind where Claire was walking. He hit the horn and stomped the gas pedal, afraid she'd be down on the ground before he got to her. He saw a flash of light and heard a loud noise, and then seconds later, he was in the lot beside them. But it was Claire who was still standing. She already had the man flat on the pavement, her knee pressed hard into the guy's spine, and his hands bound behind his back with a pair of flex-cuffs. Expert police training at work. The poor guy had picked the wrong Tit Tats girl to assault.

Relieved, Novak smiled to himself as he got out of the truck. Claire was breathing hard. The guy was on his stomach and unmoving, except for some exaggerated twitching. “Nice work, detective.”

Claire took a deep breath, and then she said, “Hurry up, help me get this guy in the back of the truck.”

“Why?”

“Well, we can't leave him lying here in an empty parking lot, can we? He hit the back of his head on the concrete when he went down, so he's pretty much out of it. Besides, I wanna know who he is.”

“What the hell did you do to him?”

Claire smiled, one side of her face faintly illuminated by the glare of his headlights. “See this?” She held up her keys. “This is a sweet little keychain stun gun. A good one, too. Called a S.M.A.C.K. Five-M. That stands for Stun My Attacker Compact Keychain. Black gave it to me for Valentine's Day, stuck down in the middle of some red roses. He figured it would come in handy someday.”

“Looks like it did the job.”

“This little gadget? It packs a five-million-volt jolt. So I don't expect he'll be giving me any more trouble tonight. Not where I hit him with it. Every woman should have one of these things.”

Novak stared down at the barely conscious and groaning man. “Hope he wasn't just a customer hanging around to say good night.”

“Hey, don't waste your sympathy on this guy. He's been watching me all day long. He followed me here by cab this afternoon, and then he lurked around outside. Whoever he is, he's not a very good tail. I figured he was gonna try something, sooner or later, so I stayed alert.”

“Maybe he's a stalker. Why didn't you call me and let me handle it?”

“I wanted to see what he was gonna do. Now I know.”

Novak glanced around the deserted parking lot, and then he picked up Claire's barely conscious assailant by the back of his hoodie and belt and tossed him bodily into the bed of his truck. The guy grunted when he hit, moaned a little, and then kept up the twitching and groaning. Novak and Claire climbed back into the cab. Novak said, “So where to? Think he needs to go to the ER?”

“No. He'll be all right.” She thought about it for a few seconds. “Okay, we'll go to my house. It's closer, and Black's probably still at the clinic wrapping up his reports. I talked to him ten minutes ago, right before I got off.”

“You sure about that?”

“Black won't care. Not after he finds out that this jerk tried to mug me. And he's a doctor if it turns out the guy needs medical attention.”

Novak wasn't so sure that any of that was a good idea, but he pulled out onto the street and headed for the Quarter. Minutes later, when they reached Governor Nicholls Street, Claire Morgan was still as cool as a cucumber about the whole thing. Didn't seem to mind being attacked. Or kidnapping the guy, either. Maybe she was gonna catch on to private work faster than he thought. The big house where she lived with Nick had its windows shuttered to the street and high walls that insured complete privacy. He stopped out front, and Claire pulled out a garage door opener. The oversized door lifted slowly, revealing a spacious three-car garage with a white Range Rover sitting alongside a black one. He pulled into the open space, and the door slid silently down behind them.

“Well, now, this is convenient for abductions,” he told her. “Do this much?”

“Let's get him inside. Try not to hurt him.”

“Nothing's gonna hurt him as much as your little stun gun did. He's still writhing in pain.”

Novak jerked the guy up to sitting and then hoisted him over his shoulder and trailed Claire inside. Once they entered a shadowy back foyer, he looked around. “You sure about this, Claire? Right here in your own house? He could press charges when he comes to.”

“Well, we're not gonna hurt him, Novak. We couldn't just leave him out there in that parking lot by himself, half-conscious and all that. Black's a doctor. You know, we thought he might need to take a look at him. Then we'll call the cops as soon as he answers a question or two, and hand him over. Then I can press charges for assault.”

“Right. I shoulda known.”

Inside the big mansion, they passed through lots of big cream and beige rooms with ornate wainscoting and cherry hardwood floors and lots of fancy and expensive furniture. The whole place was as silent as the grave. Novak followed Claire through a big black-and-white and spacious kitchen lit from under-the-cabinet lights, and then down a long marble hallway to a fancy curved staircase chiseled out of white marble that matched the floor tiles. Nicholas Black had accumulated some money, all right. At that point, a little white poodle came running out from somewhere, claws clicking like crazy on the tiles. He watched it jump up on a brown velvet bench and then leap the rest of the way up into Claire's arms. She caught the dog and snuggled it close.

“This is Jules Verne, Novak. Don't even think about stuffin' him.”

Novak just looked at her. “Cute dog. Sissier than I thought you'd have.”

“Christmas present from Black. And he's tough enough when he chases robins. C'mon, up this way. We can put that guy in one of the guest rooms. We got a ton of them in this place.”

So up they went, around the curve, and once they reached the second level, another long white marble hall stretched out in front of them, dimly lit by antique bronze sconces shaped like torches. They headed down toward the back of the house, and who should suddenly step out of an upstairs bedroom, but Nicholas Black himself. He stopped in his tracks and just stared wordlessly at them.

“Hey, Black,” Claire said in a hurry. “You're home earlier than I expected.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” His gaze moved to the limp body hanging over Novak's shoulder. The guy was still making little grunts and moaning sounds. “Who's your friend? He's still alive, I take it?”

Claire only smiled and looked pleased. At that point, Novak decided that this couple, Claire Morgan and Nicholas Black, well, okay, they were gonna be different. Real different.

“That jerk attacked me in the parking lot,” Claire was telling Black now. “So we need to find out why. Then we'll hand him over to NOPD and I'll press charges. Gabe will work with us. There won't be any stink in the newspapers. So don't get all bent out of shape about us bringing him home.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No. He's not very good at jumping women. Especially one who's got that cool little S.M.A.C.K. keychain you gave me.”

“I had a feeling it would come in handy.”

“It's sweet, all right. You shoulda heard the bang it gave out. He went down like he was hit by lightning. That's why he's still out of it. I'm gonna give these things to all my friends for Christmas. Or maybe, they could be favors at the wedding.”

“Actually, I'm not so sure taking this guy captive is even legal.” Black peered closer at the semiconscious man. “He's still moving and breathing, so that's good.”

“Of course he's breathing. Give me a break. He'll come around in a minute and we'll talk to him.”

“Mind if I tag along and observe, sweetheart? Just in case you're both charged with kidnapping and this little stunt lands you in court?”

“Get real, Black, we're not gonna hurt him. He attacked me when I was minding my own business. I was just defending myself. And Novak's a witness to the whole thing.”

“He appears to be in pretty bad shape at the moment, Claire.”

“He hit his head on the pavement. He'll be fine once he comes to all the way. This's his own fault for accosting me in the dark like that.”

“Well, thank God you weren't hurt. I still think I ought to observe whatever it is you plan to do to him. Just to be on the safe side. He might need medical attention before you finish your little talk.”

Claire scoffed at that idea and shook her head, as if affronted by the very idea.

Novak said, “Can we cut the chatter here? This guy's comin' to, and he's gettin' heavy.”

Claire hurried off ahead of them, and Black looked after her and then shook his head as Novak walked past him. “See what I mean?” he said to Novak.

“She's catching on fast.”

“Yeah, I figured she would.”

“We don't have all night, guys,” Claire called from a few doors down, sounding pretty damn impatient to get started.

Novak carried the man into a large and equally luxurious bedroom done up in cream and burgundy, replete with an antique carved canopy bed hung with maroon velvet, which seemed a little, if not a lot, grandiose for their intended purpose. They should have stayed downstairs in the garage or taken him down to Novak's place for questioning, where it really was nice and quiet and isolated and nobody would ever know they were there.

“Just dump him on the bed. His head's not bleeding.”

Novak did as Claire directed, and the guy began to come around a bit more when he hit the soft velvet comforter. Once he realized what was going on, he didn't appear to be too thrilled to find himself trussed up and held captive in an unknown location. “Hey,” he groaned out, trying to focus bleary eyes on the trio standing around the bed. “What's goin' on? Who're you?”

Claire got down into his face. “You know exactly who I am. And this is where you're gonna tell me who sent you after me, and why.”

The guy tried to focus on Claire, still a little groggy and a lot confused. Then he squinted a look up at Novak, and then he saw Nick Black standing beside Novak. That's when he turned all pale and shaky, and started stuttering and trembling and looking horrified. “Oh, God, not you, Nicky! I'm sorry. I didn't know! Please, please don't let them hurt me.”