Lucky Thirteen (The Raiford Chronicles Book 1)

by Janet Taylor-Perry

  Larkin struggled fiercely beneath Latrice’s weight. A piercing yowl stabbed the air as a large one-eyed black ball of fur landed on Latrice’s face. The woman flung Cyclops from her, but his attack gave Larkin enough leverage to get free.

  She stumbled to the fireplace and grabbed the fire poker. Latrice, blood streaming from her face, advanced on Larkin. Larkin swung the poker with all her might. She caught Latrice across the left arm, but the former Marine wrenched the poker from Larkin’s grasp.

  As Latrice hurled the fire tool across the room into a lamp, Ray’s Mustang screeched to a halt beside Raif’s Nissan. Larkin screamed. Latrice punched her in the face. Larkin fell to the floor, stunned and dazed.

  Latrice sprinted to hide behind the open kitchen door as Ray entered, weapon drawn. Larkin watched the scene in a blur.

  Seeing Larkin on the floor, Ray momentarily let down his guard, starting toward her. Latrice sprang from behind the door. She plunged the butcher knife into Ray’s side and abdomen again and again.

  Larkin roused and screamed. Ray toppled to the floor. His gun slid across the wood. Latrice bragged, “And I got the twin, too, Momma. Now, the sacrifice.”

  Like a slow-motion movie sequence, Latrice started toward Larkin again. As if by reflex, Larkin inched to Ray’s fallen weapon, clutching it in desperation. She pointed the gun at Latrice who cackled like a classic cinematic witch.

  You are the one who will end this echoed in the frigid air, along with the sound of large fluttering wings.

  Larkin closed her eyes. She pulled the trigger until the gun made no more sound.

  All was silence; the air, comfortable. When she opened her eyes, Latrice Descartes lay dead only inches from her.

  Larkin dropped the gun and crawled to where Ray lay still as death. She gathered the man into her arms and sobbed, “Ray, don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.”

  Larkin did not hear the sirens or see the police or rescue personnel burst into her house.

  All went black.

  29

  Healing Balm—Festering Sore

  Larkin smelled antiseptic and heard muffled voices; one was a familiar, comforting female voice. She bolted upright and uttered one word—“Ray!”

  “Larkin, honey, you’re all right.” Chris took her hand. “You’re in the emergency room. The doctors say you’re fine. You were in shock and lost consciousness. You’ll have a nice shiner, but there’s no lasting damage.”

  Larkin focused on Chris’s face. “Where’s Ray?” she demanded.

  “He’s in surgery. He’s in pretty bad shape.”

  “What about Latrice? And Raif?” Larkin became agitated and tried to get out of bed. Chris gently restrained her. “Where’s Raif? She had his car.”

  “Relax, honey,” Chris soothed. “Latrice is dead. She can’t hurt anyone anymore. Raif’s in surgery, too. He’s in much better shape than Ray. Latrice tried to kill him, but luckily the bullet grazed the door before it hit him in the face.” She patted Larkin’s shoulder reassuringly. “The doctors are doing some reconstruction on his cheek. And something good came out of it. They discovered an aneurysm when they did the CT scan to check for bullet fragments since it was a hollow point. Dr. LaSalle, the neurosurgeon in partnership with the neurologist Raif was supposed to see tomorrow, is repairing it. I told him he wasn’t schizophrenic.” Chris smiled triumphantly. “I knew there was a medical reason for his behavior.”

  “I remember.” Larkin breathed shakily. “I killed her.”

  “Yes, honey, you did the only thing you could’ve done.”

  “Ah-hem, I’m Dr. Stephenson.” A young intern cleared his throat in the doorway. “I see Miss Sloan’s awake. I’ve brought you some scrubs to change into. You can wash up across the hall.” He handed them a couple of towels. “Then, you can join the waiting committee in the family room. You might want to trash those clothes unless Agent Milovich needs them. In that case, there’s a bag in the bathroom.”

  Larkin realized she was covered in blood. Ray’s blood. Unwanted tears escaped scrunched eyelids.

  Chris squeezed her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Larkin allowed Chris to lead her across the hall and washed off in the lavatory. A short time later, bathed and in clean scrubs, she joined the FBI agent and they found Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds and Walter Bertram in the family waiting room.

  Dorothy Reynolds stood. “We just flew in by helicopter from Biloxi.”

  Walter Bertram took Chris by the elbow. “Thanks for calling me.”

  “Of course. You’re Raif’s family.”

  Mrs. Reynolds had just introduced her husband when Dr. LaSalle, the surgeon who had been operating on Raif, entered. He asked, “Where is Mr. Gautier’s family?”

  “Here,” asserted Mrs. Reynolds.

  Dr. LaSalle knitted his eyebrows together. “I thought you were Detective Reynolds’s parents.

  “Didn’t you notice they’re twins?” Mrs. Reynolds asked.

  “No. I haven’t seen Detective Reynolds.”

  “Well, they are. Those are my boys, and these are my two future daughters-in-law.”

  With surprised expressions on both their faces, Larkin and Chris stared at Mrs. Reynolds.

  “You’ll see,” she said to the women. “Now, Doctor, how is Raif?”

  “He’ll be fine. This attempted murder has proven to be his salvation. We were able to repair the aneurysm. He should only hear the voices of people who actually talk to him from now on and without medication. He’ll need one more cosmetic procedure in a few weeks, but there should be no extensive scarring. The door saved his life from what I’ve heard. He’s in recovery if you’d like to see him.”

  “You go, honey.” Mrs. Reynolds patted Chris’s arm. “You’re the one he’ll want to see. We need to wait to find out about Ray, but we’ll be in soon.”

  ♣♣♣

  Chris sat by Raif’s bed. She held his hand and stroked his brow along the edge of the bandage. His head was completely bandaged, along with the right side of his face. “Hmm. I’m trying to picture you without that lush charcoal hair. Bald, you won’t look like Ray for a while.”

  Raif groaned, and his eyes flickered open. “Chrish?” he said groggily.

  “Hi,” she whispered. “It’s nice to see those baby blues again.”

  “What happened?”

  “Latrice managed to escape during transport. She killed her escorts, but you don’t have to worry. She’s dead.”

  “Ray shent her to the pit of Hell, huh?” he slurred.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Huh?”

  “Larkin killed her.”

  “Larkin?” Several seconds elapsed before he finished his thought. “Ish she all right?”

  “She’s fine, but…”

  “But what?”

  Chris stood and heaved a sigh.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” His body stiffened. “Ray! Where’s Ray? I don’t feel him.” More coherently, he demanded, “Chris, answer me.” When she didn’t reply, he tried to get up.

  “Lie down,” she commanded as she pushed on Raif’s shoulders.

  He argued, “Tell me, or I’ll find someone who will.” He lay back, his body rigid. “Ooh. There he is. I feel him again, but he’s weak. He needs me.”

  Chris stared at him a minute. You really are as stubborn as Ray. She said, “Ray’s in surgery. I want to say this so you’ll understand.” Battling her own feelings, she caressed Raif’s arm. “When Ray raced to Larkin’s, Latrice ambushed him. She did a great deal of damage to his intestinal tract and right kidney with Larkin’s butcher knife. Larkin emptied Ray’s nine millimeter into her.” Her voice trembled. “He’s in bad shape. There’s no doubt he’ll lose his kidney.” She watched him closely to be sure he was handling the news all right before she continued. “He’s in really bad shape. They’re reconstructing his large intestine, and maybe some of his small.”

  Raif relaxed a bit. “How can I help?”

>   “You can’t. Get well yourself. If you think Ray needs you, be strong for him.”

  “Okay.” He drifted off again for a brief time. “I’m glad Latrice is dead,” he said as if he had never stopped talking. “Is that wrong?”

  “No. She can’t hurt anyone anymore. But I guess you could say she kept her word to you.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You won’t be hearing voices anymore. When they ran a CT scan of your head, they found an aneurysm. They used this technique called coiling to repair it, but you still might have a little short term memory loss for a few days. They shaved your head just to get a few pieces of the bullet that, thank God, did not pierce your skull. Do you remember what we’ve been talking about?”

  Raif nodded. “Yeah. Ray’s in surgery because Latrice almost killed him.”

  “Good. Now, why are you here?”

  “She tried to kill me too. But apparently I’m not schizo. I have an aneurysm.”

  “Had. That’s why you were in surgery for several hours. They called Dr. LaSalle. He came and repaired it. He says you won’t need medication, and you won’t hear voices. He’s pretty certain there was some heightened sensitivity caused by it, but even if you sense some kind of emotion, no more voices.”

  “That is good news.” Raif smiled weakly. “I’d rather hear your voice.”

  “There might come a time when you’ll tell me to shut up.”

  “Never.” He held out his hand to her. “Stay with me after you find out what’s happening with my brother.”

  At that moment, Dr. LaSalle pulled back the curtain. “Well, you’re wide awake.”

  “Mostly. I don’t think I’m having much memory loss. Chris told me everything. What’s happening with my brother?”

  “Brother? Oh, yes—Detective Reynolds. All I know is he’s still in surgery. It’s been touch and go. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know. Now, you’re going to a room.”

  “I’ll go see what I can find out.” Chris squeezed Raif’s hand. “I’ll be back. What’s the room number, doctor?”

  “Three-thirteen, unless you’re superstitious.”

  “No, three-thirteen is good.” Raif laughed. “I am one lucky thirteen. Thirteen anything is good.”

  ♣♣♣

  Raiford Reynolds looked down upon the surgical suite. He felt himself being pulled toward a light, and he wanted to walk into its warmth. A voice in the light told him, “Not yet, Ray. Why are you so stubborn? You give new meaning to the term free will. I sent you an earthly angel. Go back and accept the gift I sent to you.”

  Ray heard many voices. “Clear!” He felt electricity pulsing through his body.

  The light beckoned again. He heard the heavy flutter of large wings. The gentle voice said a second time, “Go back. The next time we meet, I will not be so lenient. I will not send you back a third time.”

  ♣♣♣

  The six-hour wait while Ray was in surgery seemed interminable. Finally, as the new day dawned, Dr. Shue, Ray’s surgeon, stepped into the waiting room. He looked exhausted while everyone turned toward him in dread. “Well, he’s alive,” the man practically whispered. “We had to remove his spleen, right kidney and several sections of his intestines and reconnect them to undamaged areas. We lost him twice, but he’s a real fighter. Somebody’s prayers kept calling him back. He’s in ICU. Y’all may visit him one at a time for five minutes each hour. I know that seems like a very short time, but Ray doesn’t need any excitement right now. So, who goes first?”

  It was agreed that Ray’s mother should see him first, and the vigil for Ray to wake up began.

  ♣♣♣

  After two days, Raif was released from the hospital. However, he refused to leave the premises until Ray woke up. He joined the family vigil. Day and night he sat in the waiting room with only brief periods of sleep until Momma Reynolds forced him to go home for real rest and a shower.

  Twelve days after surgery, Ray remained in a coma. Every hour for five minutes one of the people who loved Ray sat by his bed. Nerves frayed and fatigue set in.

  At midnight on the beginning of the thirteenth day, Larkin took her turn in the rotation. As she bent over to kiss Ray on the forehead, his eyes popped open. He seemed to look directly at her and said, “What the fuck are you doing here? Get the hell away!”

  As quickly as Ray’s eyes opened, they closed. Larkin grabbed her purse and fled the hospital.

  Raif took his turn by his brother’s bed the next morning. Resting his chin on his fist as his elbow rested on the bed, Raif was startled when a voice said, “You look like The Mummy, big brother.”

  Raif clasped Ray’s hand. “Welcome back. You tried to scare us all to death.”

  “Oops. Sorry, but I took on the psycho bitch from Hell up close and very personal. Where is she anyway?”

  “With Gremory where she ought to be—Hell. Larkin sent her there with every bullet in your gun.”

  “Good for her. Where is she?”

  “I guess she went home for a little while. That’s what we’ve been doing—going home to rest a little in between our turn to sit with you. Momma and Daddy Reynolds have been sleeping at your place. You might have lost your car. Daddy Reynolds loves driving it.”

  Ray tried to laugh. “Oh, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

  The nurse stuck her head in. “Mr. Gautier, time’s up.”

  “He’s awake,” Raif informed her.

  “It’s about time.” Relief spread across her face. “I’ll get Dr. Shue here immediately.”

  Raif added, “And I’ll get everybody else. I’m glad to have you back, Ray.” He paused at the curtain as he said emotionally, “Ray, I love you.”

  “Me too, bro, me too,” Ray whispered.

  ♣♣♣

  Raif spread the exciting news. When he called Larkin, her response shocked him. “I won’t be coming back to the hospital.”

  “For heaven’s sake, why?” he asked.

  “Ray doesn’t want me there.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “Then why when he opened his eyes last night, did he tell me to get out? I’m honoring his wishes.”

  “Something strange is going on here.”

  “I am not coming. That’s final.”

  ♣♣♣

  Several days passed before Dr. Shue released Ray, just in time for Raif’s next reconstructive procedure, which only required an overnight stay. Raif went to his brother’s place as soon as he was released.

  Ray pretended to be content with his family and friends around him, but Raif knew his brother was simmering, ready to explode over Larkin’s absence. Finally alone, Raif asked pointblank, “Why are you so surprised she’s not here? You told her to get out when you woke up briefly the night before you woke up completely.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “She says you asked her what the fuck she was doing there and then told her to get out. She thinks you blame her for almost getting killed.”

  “Oh, my God! I wasn’t talking to her. LaFontaine was standing in the gap of the curtain. I was talking to him.”

  Raif inhaled sharply. “I knew something was wrong. You have to tell her.”

  “Drive me over there right now.”

  “Are you up to it?”

  “Not, just yes, but hell, yes!”

  ♣♣♣

  Ray and Raif pulled up to Larkin’s house which was aglow with festive Christmas decorations. Icicle lights dangled and twinkled in the gentle breeze. Garland with holly clusters wrapped around the porch columns and rails. Classic carols played softly from speakers mounted at each end of the porch. Ray leaned tediously on Raif’s arm as they climbed the steps. Raif pulled the velvet cord, and the old chimes reverberated through the house. To Ray’s consternation, Robert LaFontaine opened the door.

  “Oh, to hell with it!” Ray muttered through clenched teeth. “Take me home now!”

  The two limped down the steps with Raif supporting most of his brother’s weight.
Ray eased into the passenger’s seat with a groan. Raif slowly left the driveway. Ray grumbled, “If you don’t press that gas pedal, I will. Someday! I swear! Someday I’m gonna kill that bastard!”

  “Ray!”

  “Shut up and drive. And don’t you dare say a damned thing to Larkin.”

  The car turned the bend in the road.

  Larkin came to the foyer drying her hands on a dish towel. “Who was here?”

  “Nobody.” Robert smiled seductively. “Just a solicitor.”

  ♣♣♣

  Ray’s anger festered like an infected wound and spread like cancer as he gave new meaning to the phrase, “Bah, humbug.” He made Ebenezer Scrooge look friendly as his gloom stretched to his family and friends.

  If his parents had not stayed in Eau Bouease, Ray would not have even placed a wreath on his door to celebrate the holiday season. However, having missed Thanksgiving, Mrs. Reynolds would have her way and decked Ray’s apartment to the hilt. A Douglas fir twinkled with lights and tinsel. Garland and holly boughs draped along the fireplace mantel, topped off by cinnamon and pine candles symmetrically placed on the mantel and wrapped with garland. Six stocking hangers adorned the edge of the protrusion, and from every doorway hung mistletoe, which the older couple used to their advantage every time one of them crossed a threshold.

  Mrs. Reynolds planned Christmas Day to be a full celebration and the menu was written in stone. Raif and Chris, who had delayed her return to FBI headquarters again even if she had to pay for her own hotel room, were at the top of the guest list. Larkin, also, was invited; however, she forlornly declined citing a commitment to spend Christmas Day with Robert’s family in Baton Rouge. Her absence did not stop Mrs. Reynolds from hanging a stocking for her on Ray’s mantelpiece along with all the others and filling it with wondrous treasures.