Necessary Decisions, A Gino Cataldi Mystery (37 page)

***

I hovered over the tech’s screen, doing my best to interpret the data, but I had never been good at that stuff.

The tech looked up and smiled. “We’ve got him, sir. Don’t worry.”

“Is our tail with him?”

The tech nodded. “Picked him up on the Parkway. He’s on the feeder heading south. He should be entering the freeway any second.”

I could tell where he was now that I’d been filled in. “If anything changes, anything you feel isn’t right—call me.”

“Yes, sir.”

I dialed Delgado’s number. “Scott’s getting on 45 now.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Delgado said. “Wish I knew what to look for.”

“Suspicious people.”

“The airport is full of suspicious people.”

“Then look for ones who don’t look suspicious. How the hell do I know?”

“I got it, don’t worry. You talk to Tip yet?”

“I was about to call him. I missed him earlier.”

“You better call. He’s about to give Texas a bad name.”

“Shit! I knew I shouldn’t have sent him. Tip scares the hell out of hardened criminals, not to mention a bunch of white-collar biotech workers who hide their eyes when a couple of kids with baggy pants walk by.”

“You know, cuz, we got to find this leak. We don’t, and we’re gonna lose the money. Maybe the girl too.”

“I’m working on it, Ribs. Let me call Tip. I’ll get back to you.”

Tip answered right away. “I’m not far from you, Gino. I can be there in a few minutes.”

“Don’t bother. Winthrop’s on his way to the airport. I got Sameena and Delgado there. I need you at the hotel.”

“I’m on my way,” Tip said.

“You do any good at Scott’s work?”

“Got one guy who knows something. He didn’t talk, but I didn’t have a chance to convince him. Give me five minutes alone with him. He’ll talk.”

“You think he knows something?”

“I
know
he knows something,” Tip said. “I just haven’t figured out what.”

That got me to thinking about what Delgado and I had theorized before, that someone from Scott’s workplace was involved. It made sense. “I’m going to check on some things from this end, Tip. See if Julie or Charlie can dig up some stuff for us.”

“Get back to me.”

“I will.”

I called Charlie first, knowing Julie was swamped with motel stuff. When he answered, he sounded like he was eating. I was going to tell him not to talk with his mouth full, except then he might never talk.

“Charlie, I need information on Winthrop and some of his people from work.”

“Gino, y’all got us busier than—”

“No matter how you were going to finish that sentence, I’ve heard it. So let me tell you what I need.”

“Get with it.”

“We’ve got three cases that we feel are connected: the poker games, the home invasions, and the kidnapping. I want everything run for all of them. Things in common, services they used, insurance claims…run all of the addresses through the system.”

“We already gave you some of that, remember?”

“I know. But we were focused on the home invasions. I want it all run together. See if we come up with anything new.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“Thanks, Charlie. I appreciate it.” I hung up and went to the tech. “Where is he?”

“Almost to the airport. Got maybe five minutes. Maybe less.”

“Let me know if anything changes.”

I headed to the coffee pot, craving more caffeine. It was empty. I filled the pot and turned it on. The lack of sleep was making me irritable as hell. Or it could have been the stress. As I waited for the coffee, I wondered again who the hell was leaking information. Somebody close. Had to be. I glanced to the other room and caught Lucia staring at me with a look in her eyes that said she was dying to know what was going on but afraid to ask.

Rightfully so. I got nothing to tell you.

With her stare and sorrowful look, the pressure built in my head until it felt as if it might explode. My gut churned. I
had
to get her girl back.
Had to.
And to do that, I had to find the leak.

Who the fuck is it?

Chapter 55

Everyone Has a Plan

L
onny sat beside Lucia on the sofa, doing everything he could to comfort her. She was a strong woman, a rock. Had been for all these years. But this was too much to ask of any woman. First came the financial pressure, which he’d thought was the worst thing that could happen…but now this. Money didn’t seem so important anymore.

He racked his brains all night trying to think of what he could do, but thinking had never been one of Lonny’s strong points. Working with his hands, with tools—he shined there. Build a stone wall, pour concrete and make it slicker than cat shit. Those he could do. Hang a door, run electric, fix the toilet. But put his mind to work on a problem like this, and he was lost. It was a God-given wonder the kids did so good in school. Must have got all that from their mother.

Lonny had other talents too. He sometimes helped Lucia with her cooking, not that he could cook, but he could taste the difference in a dish and tell her what was missing, or what it had too much of. And he could smell a sauce or a pot of soup and tell what it was as soon as he entered the door. He had a good sense of place and direction too. But what good did all that do? He’d trade it all for the brains to find Jada. Instead, he was forced to rely on the detective. Gino seemed like a good enough guy, but still…
his
daughter wasn’t out there. He didn’t have to worry about her when he went home at night. And she sure as hell wouldn’t be a flash in his memory six months from now if they never got her back.

Lonny squeezed a little too hard on Lucia’s arm. She jumped. “Sorry,” he said. “Just nervous.”

She offered a forced smile, patted the back of his hand. “We’ll get her back.”

We’ll get her back.
That’s all Lucia had been saying of late. Lonny worried it might be all she’d ever say if this didn’t come out right. He stared at Detective Cataldi, waiting on his coffee with signs of worry etched on his face. Not the same kind of worry, but it was there. He was worried. No doubt.

Lonny lay his head against the back of the sofa. Closed his eyes. If he could only figure out how to find them. Maybe if he had paid more attention when they had picked him up. He shut his eyelids tighter, trying to focus on remembering that first day they had picked him up. He was nervous; he recalled that much. Nerves had been eating at him that day, tearing him up. He’d had a roll of Tums with him, and he’d popped them until they were gone. He remembered coming back up I-45…

Lonny sat up straight. How did he
know
it was I-45? He didn’t know
how
he knew, but he
knew.
Maybe it was the smooth ride interrupted by the bump of the joints in the pavement every fifty feet or so. Or maybe it was the sensation of speed. Nowhere else close to where he’d met them that they could have gone that fast, not without the risk of being pulled over. He lay back against the sofa again. If they’d come back by going north on 45, then they had to have gone south to get there—wherever
there
was. Confirming it all in his head made him recall the same sensation on the way down, the smooth ride, the bumps, the speed. And he remembered it being a twenty or twenty-five minute ride. Seemed like he knew more than he thought. Now to get the rest.

In the middle of his train of thought, Lucia tapped his shoulder and said something about tea or lunch. Something unimportant. She got up and went to the kitchen. Lonny tried getting back to the images in his mind but couldn’t. He had to get out of here, go where he could focus.

He went to Lucia and whispered, “I’m going out for a drive. Want to come?” He knew she wouldn’t.

“Where are you going?”

“Just taking a drive to get my mind off things.”

“You go ahead. Be careful.”

He tried to look calm as he walked toward the front door, but he wanted to run. Time was running out for his baby girl. He
had
to do something.

***

I watched Lonny go out the door then looked at Lucia, her gaze still on him as the door closed. He was at it again. “Connors!”

He came over. “What’s up?”

“Take over,” I said. “I’m following Lonny. Call my cell with anything. And I mean
anything.
”

I got halfway to the door before I realized Scott had my car. I turned back to Connors, who already had his keys out. He tossed them to me.

It didn’t take me long to fall in behind Lonny. He seemed oblivious. Twice he drifted into the other lane, catching it only when someone beeped their horn at him. I did my best to keep a discreet distance, but I didn’t think he looked in his mirror once. Lonny could have had a naked girl on his back bumper and he wouldn’t have noticed.

While I drove, I kept thinking about the leak. I had been focusing all this time on
who
it could be. Suppose
it
was a
what,
not a
who.
I called Connors.

“Yeah, Gino?”

“Get the techs to sweep that whole house. I want everything, from the front yard to the toilets.”

“You think there’s a bug in here?”

“It would explain a lot. Get them going.” Next I called Julie. “We find out anything about those plates?”

“I checked every plate in the Houston area that started with VNA. A few had records, but they’re still in prison, and yes, we checked. There were six plates in The Woodlands, and we sent an officer to every house. Two were dead ends, and the other four weren’t home. He’ll be going back again after work.”

“Keep me posted,” I said, and then followed Lonny off the freeway and into the right lane of the feeder road. I hung back, letting a few cars get between us in case he looked in the mirror, but I wasn’t too worried. When Lonny’s brake lights came on, I applied mine, matching his speed.

My mind jumped to what I’d told Connors—that a bug would explain a lot. It
would
explain a lot of things, but it wouldn’t explain why the kidnappers didn’t know they had the wrong girl. That was the biggest puzzler of all, and I had no answer for it.

***

Lonny turned off the feeder road into the parking lot at FM 2920. He had mentally counted down the time from when Boss and them would have left the coffee shop. This would have been about the right spot. He parked in the middle of the lot with nothing to block his view, and his gaze swept all directions, searching. Looking for…what? He knew this was a long shot. He was good at travel and distance estimates, but even so, he could have easily been a mile or so off. Or more. Taking that into account, he wouldn’t see shit. He didn’t even know what he was looking for.

He closed his eyes again and tried to remember anything about where he’d been that first day on the job. The building had the feel of a warehouse—big and empty. There were no windows in the room where he met Boss the first time. No windows in either of the rooms, now that he thought about it. And it was a large building. The image that kept coming back to him were of steel walls, like a warehouse, or a barn.

He tried thinking of smells. Oil, maybe grease. A lot of dust. Yes, dust was the strongest smell. Lonny shifted his focus to sounds. There had been a hollow sound. A slight echo. Something about the sounds haunted him. He recognized one of them and recalled wondering about it at the time, but he had been so nervous that day.

Think, Lonny. Think!

He turned the truck off, rolled up the windows, and closed his eyes. Number Two had been there, off to his left. Number Three in front of him. A desk with a small lamp to the right. Three chairs and a small sofa…

Then it struck him. He’d heard the rumbling sound of a large truck, with the wheels bouncing on a rough road. Maybe a gravel one. And the familiar sound of metal clanging against metal.

Concrete trucks! Lots of them.

Somewhere close by, a crew had been pouring something big. He recalled hearing at least ten or twelve trucks, which meant it was a decent-sized pour. Maybe a hundred plus-yards of concrete. Now Lonny knew what to do and how to find them. He called every dispatcher he knew. Fred Mintz was first—the dispatcher for Superior. They did a lot in this part of town.

“Fred, it’s Lonny Hackett.”

“Lonny! It’s been a long time. Are you keepin’ busy?” Fred had a voice that sounded like he had a mouthful of tobacco, which he usually did. He carried an empty can or bottle with him to spit into.

“Not now, I’m not. But that’s not why I’m calling. I need your help.”

“If it’s a job you’re lookin’ for—”

“No job. I need to know about some pours you might have done a few weeks ago.”

“What for?”

Agitation was setting in, but Lonny tried to be patient. “Fred, my girl’s in trouble. I can’t say much more, but I need to know if you made any big pours, 80–120 yards or more, about two weeks ago. It would have been somewhere up around 2920 and 45. Say within five miles of that, maybe a little more.”