Lucky Thirteen (24 page)

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.

Half
way 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 co
mmendable, 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.