Heartless (10 page)

First, I apologize fo
r all the bullshit
and grief I've caused you. I really never
wanted to hurt you. Au contraire—I
wanted to spare you hurt. Mia—she was
one crazy bitch. You're better off without
her. Larkin—well, I was just wrong. She
loves you. For that, I am grateful.

Something happened recently which
compels me to bare my soul. No, I won't
give details, just my own explanation—
confession. Telling you will be better
than a priest any day. For so long, you
were my best friend. God! How I miss
those days! So, heregoes.

I love you. I always have and I always
will. Ray, I'm bisexual—well, gay, but I
do like an occasional good time with a
beautiful woman. In all honesty, I have
not hadintercoursewithanother woman
since I married Deanna. It's not what I
want.

Breathe.
Take a migraine pill.
Just finish the letter.
I do love Deanna inmy own way, and

I am involved with someone. He
almost, not quite, but almost, means as
much to me as you once did.

Now to explain why I treated you so
deplorably—If I couldn't have you, I
didn't want anyoneelseto have you. Ask
your twin. I think he picked up on a lot
you closed your eyes(and heart) to.

Anyway, if you're reading this, I'm
dead. It might have been a day, a
decade, fifty years since I penned it, but
I'm dead. And youare alive.

I have a favor to a
sk of you—you did
agree to be my children's godfather in
spite of all the bad blood. Take care of
them, although I'm certain that if this
finds you while they are still young,
Deanna will marry Saul, and he'll be a
good stepfather. LOL! Yes, I know about
them. My lover keeps good tabs on her,
keeps her safe, but discreetly.

I just hope some part
of you loves me
just a little and that you can forgive me.
I do love you,Raiford MichaelReynolds.

Now, burn this damned letter and
take my secret to your grave—unless
revealing it can save Kyle. Kim will be
fine, but I worry about my son.

Ray buried his face in the paper and wept. Then, he
crumpled the letter and stuffed it in a pocket. He stood and
retrieved a photo album from a shelf. It was labeled "1984."
Over half the photos were of him and Robert in first grade. He
put it back and got another. Robert had chronicled the years,
even having a few pictures from the time when their
relationship had been strained. Slowly, the snapshots changed
to family. Ray spent much time looking at old photographs. He
cried again. He just could not celebrate a life that he thought
wasted. "Thanks a lot, you asshole," Ray muttered just as Kyle
entered the study in the hope of escaping the crowd.

"Sorry," he said and turned to leave.
"No, Kyle, come in," said Ray. "Look at these pictures with
me." His voice broke for a moment. "I'll tell you about the
Robert LaFontaine I once knew."

Kyle sat in the tan leather chair across from Ray, who was
on the matching sofa, and asked bitterly, "Was he nicer then?"
Ray realized the boy was very angry; nonetheless, he
answered honestly, "Yes. Yes, he was. You know, you look a
lot like him. When we were your age, we were best friends.
"Robert loved spending time at my house. He absolutely
loved to sleep over when he knew my mother was making her
roast with potatoes and carrots smothered in gravy. And for
breakfast, Mom always fried bacon, scrambled eggs with
cheese, and baked biscuits, not little things, but cat-head
biscuits." The man made a circle with his fingers of a good
four-inch diameter. "Robert would eat three of them with butter
and blueberry jam." Ray made a motion as if slathering the
bread. "I'm surprised he never got fat. Of course, we did play
baseball together. Robert had a great pitching arm. With me as
catcher, we were unstoppable. We could just about read each
other's minds."
Why didn't I ever realize his feelings went much
deeper?
Kyle pursed his lips and nodded. There was a long silence
before Kyle stated, "I hate baseball. I played because he forced
me to. I'm not my father. I don't want to be like my father. He
didn't love me, you know. So, why do I have to endure this
long good-bye?"
Ray responded gently, "I'm
sure
he loved you, Kyle. He
just had a hard time showing it. How can a father not love his
child?" Ray thought momentarily of Parker and his lack of a
mother's love. He looked toward the door where he knew his
son was in the other room having to endure a long good-bye
where he felt uncomfortable.
At least Parker is with Larkin and
Raif, both of whom know how to love abundantly.
The boy in the study pointed toward where the mourners
were gathered. "Who's that boy with Dr. Reynolds? I never saw
him before."
"He's my son. I just found out about him."
"Do you love him?"
"Yes." Ray nodded. "I'm just getting to know him, but he's
easy to love."
Kyle narrowed his eyes. "Maybe that's the problem. Maybe
I'm not loveable."
"No." Ray shook his head. A long silence followed while
the child picked at the piping on the chair cushion.
Kyle smiled crookedly. "Did you love my dad, Mr.
Reynolds?"
"We were once close. He was my best friend for twenty
years, more like a brother a long time ago. When we were in
college, we were roommates. We went together to get tattoos."
"Dad's was so ugly," Kyle said. "Is yours like his?"
"No. I got a Celtic guardian."
"Can I see?"
"Sure." Ray unbuttoned his shirt and lifted his undershirt as
he turned around to show Kyle his shoulder.
"I like that better," Kyle said.
"I did too. Robert's was ugly, kind of scary."
"What are the scars from?" asked Kyle as Ray re-buttoned
his shirt.
"That happened when Latrice Descartes escaped and tried
to kill my brother and Larkin. She sort of ambushed me when I
went to Larkin's house."
"I've heard about her. She was real scary. Was she scarier
than my dad?"
"Much." Ray took a deep breath. "One of the scariest
people I ever met."
Kyle pursed his lips. "What did he do to hurt you?"
"I don't think it's necessary to discuss that," Ray said as he
re-tucked his shirts.
I'm kind of glad I never knew about his
real feelings.
"It must have been pretty bad. I guess my dad had a way of
hurting those he 'loved.'" Kyle used his fingers to make quote
signs. "What I say is, 'Good riddance.'"
"Kyle, you don't mean that."
The boy shrugged. "I don't know. At least now I really
don't have a dad, so when people ask me where my father is, I
can actually tell them he's dead. I won't have to make up a
story." He pressed the heels of his hands to his light-blue eyes,
refusing to let tears escape though the sound of his voice was
choked.
"I'm sorry, Kyle. If you ever need a friend or someone to
talk to, call. I am, after all, your godfather."
"Thanks. I guess I had better get back to Mom. I'll suck it
up and help her say good-bye."
"I'll go with you. I've already said my good-byes. I'm gonna
try to remember the good things. That's what you should do,
too."
"I would if I could think of any."
Ray put a hand on Kyle's shoulder, but the boy jerked away
as if he were afraid Ray would harm him. The child was
hurting far more than Ray could fathom.
I don't know how to
help him, Rob. Yeah, I loved you a little bit, just not the way
you wanted me to.
Kyle and Ray returned to the milling throng. Aching for the
child he saw walk away, Ray realized that until this case was
put to rest, Robert LaFontaine would, indeed, have a long
good-bye.

Mia Godchaux waited outside Senator Robert LaFontaine's
Eau Boueuse office on the afternoon of November thirteenth.
She had been looking for her son, Parker, since she had gotten
out of rehab.
That fat social worker and that stupid judge sent
him to juvey again, but he didn't go back to the Byrds' when he
got out.
He had disappeared, but finally, she had tracked him to
Robert LaFontaine's office.
Does Parker really have the
gumption to confront Robert about his parentage?

Parker's behavior when he came out of the office told his
mother the meeting had not gone well. He punched the street
sign and jammed on his helmet before he burned rubber as he
peeled out of the parking lot.

The stench of melted rubber made her wrinkle her nose.
"Bastard," Mia muttered as she crossed the street and entered
the office.

Dinah Horn, the Senator's bleached-blonde, buxom clerk
asked, "May I help you?"
"No, but he can," Mia replied, barging through the inner
door unannounced.
"What the hell?" shouted LaFontaine. He furrowed his
brow. "Jesus! Are you a zombie or…Mia? Holy shit! You look
like death warmed over. Did you send that little prick in here?"
He pointed toward the exit.
"No. That little
prick
is my son, and possibly yours. What
did you say for him to be so upset when he left?" She rested
her fingertips on the edge of his mahogany desk.
Robert snorted. "That I'm not his father, and I won't have
any tests to prove it. If you or he tries anything, I'll have both
of you arrested. If you want to shake down somebody, go
shake down Raiford Reynolds. He's a better candidate for
Father of the Year anyway."
"You've only gotten nastier. Who in their right mind voted
for you?"
"Mia, what have you done to yourself? What are you strung
out on? I'm sure it's harder than pain killers." He signed a
document and closed a folder. With one hooded eye, he looked
at a spot on his desk where he was sure he had laid some cash
earlier. He scowled and glanced past his former lover.
"Listen to me," he said in a low growl. "I don't want that
little thief even if he
is
mine. You should have aborted him.
Moreover, I sure as hell don't want
you
. I never did." He
laughed coldly. "You've never understood. I didn't want you
back then. I wanted Ray. The only way to have him was to get
rid of you. My plan backfired. I finally realized Ray was a lost
cause and moved on."
"Wouldn't the press love to hear that little declaration?"
asked Mia with an underlying threat in her voice.
"Try it, and little Parker will be an orphan. I have
connections."
Mia laughed and leaned across the desk to be close to his
face. "You really are a cold, heartless son-of-a-bitch, aren't
you? One day, Robert, you'll get what's coming to you. I swear
it." Mia turned on her heel and left as abruptly as she had
entered.
A couple of hours later as darkness fell, Robert LaFontaine
and his pretty young clerk got into Robert's Mercedes and left.
A healthy distance behind them, Mia followed on her
motorcycle.

Mia watched the press conference with interest. She had
thought that after striking out with Robert LaFontaine, Parker
would have approached Ray. He knew she had been with both
men at the same time. However, he was nowhere to be seen.

Mia watched as Ray obviously chided a reporter. From her
angle, she saw a man enter the police station from the side
entrance.
Who is that? He looks exactly like Ray who has
change very little in eighteen years.

Ray had not gained weight, and he appeared to have perfect
muscle tone. At six feet, he was still around one hundred
eighty-five pounds. The only real evidence that Ray had aged
at all was gray in his charcoal hair at his temples and fine lines
around his mesmerizing sapphire-blue eyes.
The other man
looks exactly the same.

Forty-five minutes of waiting brought both men out the
side entrance. They got into an impressive modern fuelefficient Lexus and drove away. Still, there was no sign of
Parker. Mia knew Parker would find a place to sleep, although
he had not checked into any of the shelters the night before. He
would have to eat and sleep sooner or later.

Ray and Parker walked out of the police station together.
Mia was surprised to note the relaxed manner in which they
walked down the street. She had finally given up searching the
shelters. She knew Parker would eventually approach Ray.
After all, he had had the courage and audacity to confront a
United States Senator. On the other hand, she was astounded
that Raiford Reynolds was not screaming in anger.
Maybe he's
mellowed with age.

The two men came back a little later as Mia waited across
the street. They talked a few minutes before Parker left. Ray
rubbed his head and turned in circles.
He evidently still gets
migraines, and although he hasn't thrown a fit, he's stressed.

Mia made the shelter rounds twice. The man at the sign-in
desk commented, "Lots of people looking for this kid tonight.
He just left. If you need a place to crash, you can have his."

Mia stepped out the door to see Parker talking with Ray
again. There was a petite redhead with them. The conversation
seemed cordial.
Is that Ray's wife?
Something about her made
Mia angry.
Apparently, Parker is leaving with them.

"You have an hour and fifteen minutes. If you ain't back,
the door gets locked. You gonna sign in?"
"Yeah." Mia signed her name.
The man noted, "Same name as the kid. You kin?"
"Yeah." She followed her son to Ray's house.
Mia peeked through the window to see what was
happening.
That woman is holding Parker's hand. Who does
she think she is? And why is Parker letting her hold his hand—
the little traitor? Doesn't he have a clue what I've done for
him?
Mia began to fume.
God! I need a fix. At least I know
where to find Parker. I need to rest and score. Gotta get back
to the shelter. Tomorrow. I'll decide what to do tomorrow. I
need to see more.

Seeing more over the next few days only made Mia angrier.
Ray took Parker to church. Then, he enrolled him in school.
Who does he think he is—Parker's father? Well, yes, he might
be—but this is too much.

What the hell?
Ray was hugging her son. Something had to
be done. She had to formulate a plan.
Parker is mine. All it will
take is for him to make a mistake, and Ray will throw him out.
Parker needs to see that. But how?

It was hard to think when she was this angry. She really
needed a fix, but where could she find one here?
I need to run
to New Orleans.
She had to calm herself. She was too mad to
think straight, but Ray would not get away with this.
He's a
holier-than-thou heartless bastard, just like Robert.

Raiford Reynolds filed the documents to have Parker's last
name changed to Reynolds first thing Tuesday morning. Along
with that, he filled out the paperwork for a new driver's license
for Parker to sign. The judge looked over Parker's file and
declared, "I have no problem taking away this woman's
parental rights. The kid is all yours, Ray."

Ray returned to his office where Chris Gautier waited for
him as she stared out the window at gray buildings set against a
gray day. Seeing Chris, Ray demanded, "Well, have you found
the bitch yet?"

"No. She seems to have vanished. She got out of rehab the
week before Judge Salus was killed. I know she visited his
office and Ms. Vaughn's office." She flipped through her notes.
"She had to sign in at both facilities. She was looking for
Parker, but since then, there has been no sign of her."

"You know, Chris, I'm certain she's the killer." Ray sat
down in his chair and rubbed his head.
"Migraine?" asked Chris.
"Yeah." He pulled out his office bottle of rizatriptan. "You
know, these had subsided some until the Robert bullshit and
now Mia." He popped a pill in his mouth and opened the water
on his desk to rinse it down. "She has motive and the medical
skill to take out the hearts. After reading Parker's file and
seeing that the kid has been treated deplorably, I'm mad as hell.
But I wouldn't have gone out and killed these people. Still, I
can see where she's coming from if she has an inkling of love
for Parker. One thing she needs to realize, though, is that she
has been the real problem. She has never been a mother."
"Ray, you need to chill. Your anger issues are showing
again." She sat down across from her boss and friend.
"Chris, what would you have done when you found
Lindsay if she had been abused her whole life?"
"I would've sued to get her back, and I would've arrested
the abusers. You can't arrest the Byrds. They're dead."
"No, but Mia is another story. I would like to strangle her,
Chris." His voice came out higher than normal. "The only
positive influence in Parker's life was a recovering addict who
called himself 'Fritz the Cat.' I did a little research on him, too.
He could be on the FBI's most wanted list as 'Fritz the Cat
Burglar.' I don't know if it's the same person for sure, but he
took care of Parker when he was around, the only person who
did besides Miss Maxi who cared for Parker and three other
boys. I think I'll track her down and thank her."
"Now, that would be a good way to channel your energy.
Let me be the detective. Focus on loving your son. You and
Larkin have him now. Make the most of it. He seems to be a
great kid in spite of all he's endured."
"Yeah, he does, doesn't he? I will, Chris. Thanks for letting
me vent."
"You're welcome as always, Ray."
They bumped fists in an expression of camaraderie.

Parker felt the two weeks of school before Thanksgiving
break were the best two weeks he had ever had. He had a real
family and, apparently, a girlfriend, something he had never
had before. His first date
ever
loomed ahead of him.

Friday evening came, and Sheena picked up her date
because Terry Johnson was not comfortable with a motorcycle
even if the boy
was
Raiford Reynolds's son. Ray whispered to
Parker, "Next time you can use one of the cars if you want."

"Really?" Parker whispered back.
"You have a new driver's license, and I just put you and the
motorcycle on my insurance. The only one completely off
limits is the GT. She's all mine."
"Thanks."
"Have fun. Be home by midnight." Ray handed Parker five
crisp twenties and a phone.
"What's this?" Parker asked.
"Cash for your date and in case you need me for anything.
The house number, my number, Larkin's number, Raif's
number, and Chris's number are already programmed. Any you
add are up to you. I bet I know the first one that's going in.
Now, go have fun."
Parker and Sheena went to The Arena, a teenage hot-spot
that had a miniature golf course, a go-cart track, a paint-ball
course, a bowling alley, a skate rink, an arcade, and a pizza
palace. They walked in and Sheena said, "Oh, shoot! Maybe
we should go somewhere else."
"Why?"
"My ex-boyfriend is here. He went off to Texas A and M in
August. He must be home for Thanksgiving."
"Do you still want him to be your boyfriend, or is he really
your ex?"
"Oh, he's my ex. We split up last year after I broke his nose
because he didn't understand the meaning of 'No.'"
Looking around he asked, "You broke his nose? Which one
is he?"
"The tall guy with the skinned head at the pinball games.
Damn! I can't believe he shaved all his hair off. He never really
liked being like his family that way."
"Does he play basketball?" Parker's eyes looked like two
oceans they stretched so wide.
"Yes."
"You broke his nose? You're what—five-four, a hundred
five pounds?"
"You're good. Daddy says I have anger issues. I've been
taking karate since I was four. I have a black belt. Don't mess
with me." Sheena grinned and dropped into a front stance.
Parker, who was only five-nine and, maybe, a hundred
thirty-five pounds, raised his hands in mock surrender. "I
promise," he laughed. "But you wanted to come here. Don't let
him run you off. If you want, you can tell him I'm your new
boyfriend."
"I can live with that."
"Really?" His grin stretched across his face. "I mean, are
we, like, going out?"
"Yeah," Sheena replied as if there should never have been
any question. "I like you, but next time you have to pick me up
and meet my folks."
"Okay. Ray says I can use any car I want except the GT.
Let's eat. Then, I'll race you." Parker pointed out the go-carts.
"You're on. I like pepperoni."
"Me too." He grinned.
I've actually had pizza before I came
here—and not the frozen kind. Larkin would be surprised.
As they ate on opposite sides of a booth, they were
suddenly rudely interrupted as Sheena's ex slid in beside her
and his friend, a tall, lanky, sandy-haired guy slid in beside
Parker. "Well, look who's here, Little Miss Virtue."
"Derrick, you can leave now, or would you like to have
some other part of your anatomy broken?" snapped Sheena.
"Ooh, she's feisty," said the other boy.
Derrick stuck his hand across the table. "Derrick McAlpin.
And you are?"
"Parker Reynolds, Sheena's boyfriend, and I think she
asked you to leave." Parker did not shake Derrick's hand.
Derrick sat back and looked at the guy across the table.
They listened to the ding-ding of a pinball game and the
laughter of some younger children in the plastic-ball pen.
Derrick waved off the comment with his hand. "You can't
always get what you want. But if Sheena's good, I might just
give her what she needs." Then Derrick draped his hand over
Sheena's shoulders and groped her breast.
Simultaneously, Parker shouted, "Get your hands off my
girlfriend!" while Sheena screamed, "Get your hands off me!"
"Oops, my hand slipped." Derrick laughed sarcastically.
Parker looked at the guy sitting beside him. "Excuse us.
We're leaving."
"Ah, come on," whined Derrick. "We're just getting
acquainted."
"No, we were just leaving," argued Parker. "Please, move
and let us out."
"Sheena doesn't want out," said Derrick as he placed his
hand on her thigh. "She doesn't want to leave with a little boy.
She'd rather stay with a college man."
Parker glared at the young man who was over half a foot
taller than he was. "You have no idea who you're messing
with," he said through clenched teeth. "If Sheena broke your
nose, I'm sure I can break something else. I think I'll start with
the hand you have on my girlfriend's leg." Parker put an elbow
into the guy's ribs that was blocking him in the booth. "Get out
of my way. Let's take this outside, Derrick."
Derrick laughed. Sheena shook her head as she realized
Parker was serious and his anger issues were much greater than
hers. "No, Parker. You'll go to juvey."
He shook his head. "No, I won't. Derrick will go to jail
though. I'll get my dad to arrest him for sexual assault. He did
grab your boob."
"Your dad?" asked the guy beside Parker.
"Yeah. He's the chief of police."
The guy stood. "Derrick, this is your fight. I'm just visiting
from Texas. Maybe you should move up from high school
girls."
"Ooh," taunted Derrick. "Let the little punk call his daddy.
Reynolds?" He snickered. "Raiford Reynolds is your father?
Since when?"
Parker clenched and unclenched his fists.
"I'm so scared of a mistake the good cop made in his
youth," Derrick continued to goad.
Sheena pushed Derrick with both hands. "Move! Parker
and I are leaving."
"You're gonna have to crawl over me, baby."
Parker suddenly growled like a wild animal, came across
the table and belted the unsuspecting Derrick in the mouth.
"You little shit!" bellowed Derrick as he threw Parker to
the ground, straddling him and slamming his head into the
floor.
"Get off him!" yelled Sheena, jumping on Derrick's back
and putting him in an iron-clad choke hold.
Within minutes, two patrol cars arrived, and the officers
dragged all participants to separate areas. Finding out that
Sheena and Parker were minors, the officers called their
parents. Officer Link Marceau, a very tall Native American
looking rookie who was expecting his first child any day, got
the privilege of calling his boss.
"Hello," Ray answered his phone.
"Chief Reynolds, this is Officer Marceau. I'm afraid I need
you to come to The Arena. Your son has been in a fight."
"What? He's on a date."
"Yes, sir. She was involved in the fight, too. Her dad is on
his way. The other kid is eighteen. He's on his way to lockup.
The kids are saying he accosted the girl."
"I'll be there in a few minutes."
Larkin tried to ask Ray what was wrong. He just held up a
hand on the way out the door. "Don't worry about it. I'll take
care of it."
When Ray got to The Arena, Terry Johnson was talking
with both Sheena and Parker. "Ray," he greeted an old friend.
"Terry." The men shook hands.
Ray looked at Parker. "So, explain."
Eyes wide, nostrils flared, Parker ranted, "That Derrick guy
sat down at our table. He grabbed Sheena's boob and rubbed
her leg, and she didn't want him to. Then, he called me a punk
and her baby. He made fun of your being my dad, and I hit
him. I'm not sorry. Sheena said she already broke his nose
once."
"Yes, she did," said Terry. "Ray, I know the kids were
fighting, but this boy won't leave Sheena alone. I'm not mad at
Parker. He actually acted chivalrously."
"Derrick McAlpin?" Ray asked.
Parker and Sheena nodded.
"Yeah, bad news," Ray affirmed. "Sheena how'd you get
mixed up with the likes of the McAlpins?"
She shrugged. "He was a popular basketball player."
Ray rubbed his head. "Who drew first blood?"
Parker asked, "Does grabbing Sheena's boob count?"
"Oh, yeah, big time." Ray nodded.
"Then, Derrick did. We asked him to let us leave, but he
wouldn't. Ask that guy over there." He pointed out Derrick's
friend from Texas. "He was with Derrick, but he got up and left
when I told him my dad was chief of police."
"Pulled me like a loaded gun, huh?"
Parker shrugged. "I didn't wanna fight, but Derrick left me
no choice."
"He's telling the truth, Mr. Ray," Sheena said. "When I was
dating Derrick, he pinned me against his car door and tried to,
well"—She made a rolling hand motion—"you know. I
managed to get free and broke his nose. His father pulled a few
strings and got the case dismissed. Please, believe us. Don't tell
Parker and me we can't go out."
Ray turned to the patrolman. "Marceau, was there any
damage?"
"No. Just the fighting."
"How would you handle this if I was not chief of police?"
"Since it seems this was self-defense of a sort, we'd call the
kids' parents to come and get them, just like we did. If the
manager of the place doesn't press charges, you can take 'em
home."
"Is he pressing charges?"
"Yes,
she
is," answered a woman behind Ray. "But not on
these two. I'm pressing charges on the older boy. This girl
should, too. Their server confirms their story."
Ray nodded. "Thanks. Sheena, you can decide what you
want to do about Derrick. I'm not gonna keep you and Parker
apart. Terry, are you?"
"Nope. I wish he'd beat the hell out of Derrick, but the jerk
is twice his size. He did try. Thanks, Parker." Terry Johnson
shook Parker's hand.
Ray said, "Come on. Let's go home. Tonight's date is over."
He put a hand on his son's shoulder to facilitate moving out the
door. As an afterthought, Ray turned back. "Terry, y'all join us
for Thanksgiving dinner. We'll eat about six. Come earlier."
Terry nodded. "Sounds good. What should we bring?"
"The wine and whatever kind of beer or drinks that you
like."
Parker followed Ray to the GT. They got in without words.
Several minutes into the drive home Parker asked, "Are you
mad at me?"
"Yep."
"I'm sorry."
"Fooyay! No, you're not. Parker, I'm mad that there's a knot
on your head, and you're gonna have a black eye when you
meet Meemaw and Papaw. At least you must have hit him
pretty hard. Your knuckles are bleeding. We're really gonna
have to work on your anger issues. If you're gonna take on a
guy twice your size, I'm gonna have to teach you how to kick
his ass."
Ray reached over and stroked his son’s head. "I remember
breaking Robert LaFontaine's jaw over Larkin. You get your
temper naturally. Maybe we can work on our anger issues
together."