Lucky Thirteen (The Raiford Chronicles Book 1)

by Janet Taylor-Perry

  “You’re a fine one to talk! Now, take me home. I wanna wake up with a hangover in my own toilet. And don’t you say a damned thing to Larkin.”

  Raif didn’t argue but drove his brother home. Back at his place, he called Chris. “I just wanted to tell you good night,” he said when she answered.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “It is now.”

  “Well, good night then,” Chris said, confusion weighting her words.

  “Good night.”

  “Sweet dreams.”

  “Yeah, finally.”

  ♣♣♣

  After retrieving his car the next day, Ray dragged into his office. Chris was already there packing her things.

  “What’s going on?” Ray snarled after popping some more aspirin.

  “I’ll be leaving as soon as Latrice is transported to the state mental institution.”

  “That’s not until Monday.

  “Yeah, I’m just getting prepared.” She paused as she held a snow globe of Santa using alligators rather than reindeer, a gift from some of the officers. She shook it and watched purple, green, and gold snowflakes fall before packing it in a box. “Dantzler, Swift, and Journey have already gone back. They’ll be back to testify. Steve’s analyses of the defendants are crucial. Did you notice that Patrick and Raif have become friends?”

  “Yeah. So what?”

  “You’re in a horrible mood. I knew you drank too much last night.”

  “I needed more to watch LaFontaine paw Larkin.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Forget me. Let’s talk about you and my brother.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss. After all, he took you home last night.” Chris winked and went to get coffee, leaving Ray to stew.

  To make Ray feel even worse, his mother paid him a surprise visit. She met Chris with warm affection and demanded to meet the man who should have been her other son and the girl who had captured Ray’s heart.

  Ray said, “You already met Chris.”

  Dorothy Reynolds furrowed her brow and scowled at her son. “Don’t play games with me, Raiford Michael Reynolds. I want to meet Larkin.”

  “I don’t know if she’s even speaking to me.”

  “What did you do?”

  He moaned, not wanting to answer. Mrs. Reynolds glanced at Chris with hands outspread.

  “He acted like a jealous fool last night at dinner,” offered Chris.

  “Did he?” said Mrs. Reynolds. “Well, suck it up and call. I want to meet her.”

  Ray obediently called since it was ten in the morning and he knew from Dr. Fairchild that Larkin would not be in a class and could answer her cell phone. “First,” he said, “I apologize for being rude last night. Second, my mother is in town and wants to meet.”

  “I’ll make dinner. I’d like to meet your mother. Bring Raif and Chris as well.”

  “That sounds good,” said Ray. “Larkin, are you inviting LaFontaine?”

  “It’s better if you two aren’t together. I’ll cook for him another time.”

  Ray sighed deeply. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  “Why? What reason do I have for not seeing Robert socially?” All I want to hear is that you want to see me socially.

  “Never mind. I won’t bad mouth the man. It would only blow up in my face. What time do you want us?”

  “Eight works for me. It’ll give me time to cook. Bring some white wine.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Larkin I…”

  “Yes, Ray?” she responded hopefully.

  “I’ll see you tonight.”

  ♣♣♣

  Ray took his mother to Bertram and Associates and introduced Raif. Dorothy took him by the shoulders. “It might be a little late, but I have every intention of spoiling you as much as I did Ray. Call me ‘Momma Reynolds.’”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She pulled him into a warm embrace. Raif could only return the affection. It feels natural, ran through his mind.

  Ray interrupted, “Raif, Larkin is making dinner tonight. She wants you to come.” He grinned. “Chris will be there.”

  “I’d love to. What time?”

  “Eight.”

  Dorothy patted both men’s arms. “Well, until then, I’m going to Ray’s place. My boys. Yes, indeed.”

  Raif covered his mouth to hide an amused grin as Ray shrugged and followed his mother out the door.

  By the time dinner with Larkin arrived, a storm raged in full force. Larkin’s company practically floated into her house. Dorothy Reynolds met Larkin with the same affection she had shown Raif and Chris. The two felt they had known each other forever.

  Ray watched every move Larkin made. She wore a fitted burgundy sweater dress that bared her left shoulder, revealing her matching tattoo. She pulled her hair back in burgundy and flowered cloisonné combs with matching earrings dangling gracefully as she moved. The darker shade of lipstick she wore accentuated her perfect smile. And she smelled like a rose garden. He would have given anything to bury his face in that scent and those copper ringlets, but he sat across the table from her. Ray could hardly taste the rotisserie chicken, wild rice, and broccoli with cheese sauce for the memory of the sweetness of Larkin’s lips.

  Halfway through dinner, glaring lightning flashed. Resounding thunder shook the walls. The party was thrown into total darkness. The gloom was instantly followed by a crash and a yowl. Cyclops bounded over Mrs. Reynolds to get to Larkin.

  Mrs. Reynolds gasped as Larkin passed the cat to Ray and retrieved candles and a lighter from the buffet drawers. Dorothy Reynolds asked, “Larkin, honey, aren’t you scared to live way out here by yourself?”

  “No, I like the peace and solitude, especially when I write.” She laughed as she lit several candles.

  “So, you’re an author as well as a teacher?”

  “I hope so. I’ve been compiling an anthology of poetry. I’m ready to look for a publisher.”

  “That’s very commendable, but I’m afraid I’d jump at every little sound in the night if I were out here alone.”

  “I’m not afraid of things that go bump in the dark, Mrs. Reynolds. I’ve survived a true monster, and Psalm 56:3 is my motto: ‘What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.’”

  Just as she spoke, the wind howled fiercely and someone pounded on the front door. Mrs. Reynolds started in fright. “Mercy!”

  “Who could that be?” mused Larkin as she headed for the door, taking a candle from the table.

  “I bet I know,” muttered Ray. “I thought you weren’t inviting him.”

  “Robert?” Larkin shook her head. “I didn’t, but his cell has been off all day.”

  Sure enough, Robert LaFontaine stood on the porch. “I didn’t think I’d make it out here tonight,” he said. “I had to run to Baton Rouge and got caught in the deluge.” He entered the foyer and although Larkin was not alone, he did not seem to think anything of barging in. Rather, he asked pointedly, “Why wasn’t I invited to the party?”

  “Because you and Ray don’t get along,” answered Larkin frankly. “You should’ve called before you came, and I left you three voice messages if you’d bothered to check.”

  “The storm completely knocked out my cell phone reception. I didn’t realize I’d be unwelcome.”

  “Don’t sound so wounded,” Larkin chided. “I do have friends besides you.”

  “Friends? Raiford Reynolds?” Robert hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “That is his car out there.”

  “In person,” Ray said sulkily from the doorway to the living room. He stood in the shadows with his arms folded across his chest.

  “Hello, Reynolds.”

  “Dispense with the pleasantries. The lady said you should not have come.” Ray jerked his head toward the door. “Get back in that nice Mercedes and leave.”

  Larkin held up her hand. “Ray.”

  “What’s the matter, Reynolds? Afraid of the competition?” Robert gloated.

  “You are not competition
. You’re a forked-tongued, venomous snake. I will not allow you to sink your fangs into Larkin.”

  “Whoa!” she commanded. “This stops now! I’m not some golden statue to be won by the best jouster.”

  By this time, Mrs. Reynolds, Chris, and Raif had arrived in the foyer.

  “No, you’re not,” Robert agreed. “You’re an invaluable prize that someone as vulgar as Reynolds doesn’t deserve.”

  “You philandering, back-stabbing, loathsome, two-faced…” Ray advanced toward LaFontaine.

  “Stop it!” said Larkin shrilly as she verged on angry tears. “Raif?”

  “I’m right here.” Raif placed a restraining hand on his twin’s shoulder.

  Ray became rigid and clenched his fists. He looked at his brother and mother. “I’m getting out of here before I kill the son-of-a-bitch.” He turned to Larkin. “I’m sorry, but I cannot and will not go through this again.” He walked into the rain, oblivious to its icy chill.

  “Again?” Larkin asked in confusion.

  “I’ll tell you later,” said Raif as he went after his brother. Mrs. Reynolds and Chris reluctantly followed.

  ♣♣♣

  The weekend found Chris continuing to pack her belongings in the police station. Ray really did hate to see her leave, and he encouraged her to stay.

  Chris grinned and tried to placate her temporary partner. “I’ll visit at Christmas,” she teased. She didn’t want to be serious about departing because she did not want to leave. “Don’t worry, Ray. I’ll be here with you while the state police transport Latrice Monday evening. I promised to stay until she was locked securely away. Actually, I won’t be leaving until Wednesday. I also promised to hold Raif’s hand when he visited a neurologist. His appointment is Tuesday morning. I have to go. I have all kinds of reports to write.”

  “Well, you can at least stay until next Monday. Mom wants you to come for Thanksgiving.”

  “I could do that.” She became thoughtful. “I’ll have to put in for leave. I have enough days to get me through the holiday.” She nodded. “I’d like a family Thanksgiving. Yeah. Okay.” Her excitement rose with each determination. “I’ll do that.”

  ♣♣♣

  Monday evening, Chris walked into Ray’s office with a Bumper’s Biggie Bag and a deck of cards. “Gin rummy while we wait?” she asked as she set the bag on Ray’s desk.

  “Sure.” Ray nodded. “And food, too. I see you have all the answers.”

  “No, just something to keep you busy until the asylum calls to let you know our little loon is locked up tight.”

  “Thanks. I won’t sleep until she’s gone away.”

  “I know. Me either. Have you talked to Larkin?”

  “No.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Don’t start. I know she’s having dinner with Robert at this very moment.”

  “And why not you?”

  “I could ask you why you aren’t with my brother.”

  “I was. Then, I came to babysit you because you’re too chicken to go after Larkin.” She spread the food on the detective’s desk. “Take off the gloves, man. LaFontaine has nothing better to offer her than you do.”

  “Chris, I’ve lost a woman to him before. Honestly, it hurts too much.”

  “You lost a woman, not a Larkin. Isn’t she worth the fight, Ray?”

  He finished his fries without answering. Finally he mumbled, “Deal the cards, Chris. They’re on their way. In two hours, I’ll be free to fight.”

  ♣♣♣

  Larkin toyed with her meal although Robert had ordered her favorite enchiladas. She drank her margarita and asked for another.

  Robert ordered another margarita and took her hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just can’t relax until Ray calls to tell me Latrice has been locked away.”

  “I hoped dinner with me would take your mind off Ray’s calling you for anything.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s not you.” She withdrew her hand. “I’m truly frightened of that woman. She’s living proof monsters are real.”

  Larkin finished her second margarita and managed to eat one enchilada before she asked, “Robert, will you, please, take me home? I want to take a hot bath, snuggle up with Cyclops, and watch a movie with a happy ending.”

  “I’d love to snuggle up with you and Cyclops.” He smiled winsomely.

  “Robert, please? Cyclops hates you. I don’t know why, but he does. Besides, I’ve told you I’m not ready for that kind of relationship with you.”

  “But you are with Reynolds?” he snapped.

  Get a grip. I am not your property. “That’s not it. I can’t force feelings.” She firmly placed her napkin on the table.

  “I apologize. I’ll admit I’m jealous of the bond you have with Raiford Reynolds.”

  Larkin sighed. She and Ray had been through a lot. She had begun to doubt there had ever been a bond, just lust, a purely physical attraction.

  Robert huffed. “Of course I’ll take you home. Do you want a doggie bag so you can eat later?”

  “That works for me. I don’t have much appetite right now.”

  The drive to Larkin’s home was silent. Robert left Larkin at her front door with an aloof kiss and the promise to call her the next day. He drove off into a quickly gathering freezing fog.

  Larkin ran a steamy bath filled with bubbles and slipped in up to her neck as Cyclops sat on the side of the tub. She put her headphones on and turned Debussy’s “Claire de Lune” up. She gave way to complete relaxation.

  ♣♣♣

  “Ray!” Chris grumbled after winning yet another hand of gin. “You are no competition tonight. Concentrate, for Pete’s sake.”

  “I can’t!” He banged his fist onto his desk.

  The phone rang, startling both of them. He snatched the receiver. “Reynolds.”

  After a short interval, Ray sprang to his feet and bellowed, “Are you fucking serious? Goddamn it!” He slammed the receiver down.

  Ray grabbed his jacket. “She’s escaped, Chris. The two troopers escorting her are dead, and she has the cruiser and their guns.”

  Chris’s stomach clenched. “Oh, my God!” The FBI agent threw on her coat. “You go to Larkin’s. I’ll go to Raif’s.”

  “I can’t believe I’m glad she’s having dinner with LaFontaine,” said Ray as he sprinted to his car.

  ♣♣♣

  Raiford Gautier hunched over his drawing table reviewing his latest blueprint. He rubbed his arms with his hands to warm them as the room had become cold. Pounding on his door brought a scowl to his brow. “Stop banging! I’m coming!” he said as he bounced down the stairs and headed for the door. “That had better be Chris coming to babysit me early.”

  Raif jerked the door open and tried to slam it closed just as fast as he stared at the muzzle of a hand gun in the grasp of Latrice Descartes. Before he could shut the door, the barrel exploded in his face. The bullet caught the edge of the door and then the right side of Raif’s head. He fell backward with a thud.

  A faint scream came from the townhouse next door. “What was that?” Carol Johnson asked her husband as they lay in bed.

  Lieutenant Terry Johnson jumped up. “A gunshot. Get Sheena and stay in the bathroom.” He reached atop the highboy, snagged a black case and spun a combination, grabbed his nine millimeter, and popped in the clip. He raced to his front door.

  “Terry, be careful!” Carol cried.

  “Dial 9-1-1.”

  Latrice stood over Raif and gloated, “I’m finally rid of you. Now, I can finish what I started.” As she started to fire another bullet, this one into Raif’s chest, the Johnsons’ door flew open and Terry trained a gun at the escaped prisoner.

  Latrice shouted, “What the fuck? Who the hell are you?” She whirled and fired at the soldier freshly home from Iraq. Terry Johnson ducked behind the door jamb as the bullet splintered wood. Latrice snatched Raif’s keys from the hook by the door, dashed down the walkway, and sped away in Raif’s Nissan
.

  Chris passed the Nissan driving at a high rate of speed. She recognized both car and driver. Her heart skipped a beat in her anxiety. She whipped out her phone. Seconds after another emergency call, Christine Milovich summoned an ambulance. She dreaded what she might find. She shivered in the sudden chill of her rented vehicle.

  Please, God? Don’t let him be dead. The FBI agent sprang from her car without cutting the engine. She rushed inside the townhouse, dropped to her knees, and hovered over Raif. “Don’t you die on me,” she commanded. Cradling Raif’s head in her lap, she called Ray.

  His throat constricted, Ray answered. Before he could speak, Chris shouted, “She’s got Raif’s car. She shot him. The ambulance is here. We’re going to the hospital.”

  “I called the restaurant. LaFontaine already took Larkin home,” Ray informed Chris in a thin, tight voice. “She’s not answering her phone. I’ll call you. Take care of my brother.” Please, God? Don’t take him from me. Protect Larkin.

  “Be careful,” Chris said. “I don’t need both of you hurt. The fog is thick.”

  “Thanks.” He clicked his phone shut.

  Ray gunned the Mustang down the long dark road that led to Larkin Sloan’s house. The fog was so dense he could hardly see the road in front of him, and small ice crystals dotted the windshield. He let the GT out as far as he could and turned the wipers on high.

  ♣♣♣

  Larkin fluffed her wet hair with a towel and shuddered in the cold air. She heard a racket at the front door. Cyclops arched his back, his hair standing on end. Warily she dropped the towel and listened. Hearing nothing else, she descended the stairs cautiously. She pulled her robe more tightly about her when she saw her front door wide open, the lock shattered. She looked beyond the door to see Raif’s car pulled onto the lawn, leaving deep ruts in the pristine landscaping.

  Larkin called, “Raif?” as she reached the door. Her breath hung in the frosty air.

  “You wish,” answered a menacing voice behind her.

  Larkin started to run for the yard, but Latrice grabbed her hair and yanked her backward. Latrice pinned the much smaller woman to the floor and brandished Larkin’s own butcher knife. “You don’t get to die as fast as that weasel of a traitor, Gautier,” Latrice hissed. “No. You’re the final offering. I suppose your white terrycloth robe will have to do as a sacrificial gown.”