Broken (The Raiford Chronicles #3 Book 1) Read online

  "Why don't you ask your friend, Amile? Dad says Amile and Colleen adore you. Colleen could even sit in for your mother."

  "That's an excellent idea, Trista." Neely chuckled. "She did tell the doctor when she was attacked she was my grandmother. Thanks for the suggestion."

  "You're welcome. Now, how many attendants do you want? Who will be your maid of honor?"

  A crease crossed Neely's brow.

  "What's wrong?" asked Trista.

  "I can't have two matrons of honor. My best friend, Esther, had me as her maid of honor. I can't have her and you."

  "No, no," said Trista with a firm headshake. "Esther will be your matron of honor. I'm the wedding planner. I'm gonna make sure everything goes off without a hitch." She stuck out her lower lip. "Maybe I can live my wedding in yours. I didn't really get to have what I would have wanted—my own fault, I know."

  Neely shook her head. "Then, Esther's all I want. I'll let you plan away, but don't wear yourself out."

  "You got it. Simple will make Dad happy. Although everything he has or does is of the highest quality, he's not flamboyant." She waved the pen she was using around in circles. "Like, he drives a beautiful midnight blue Lexus loaded to the hilt, but he would never zip around in a Ferrari. That would be Uncle Ray. He even has an antique Ferrari Testarossa in his collection. That's not Dad. Take this house for example; it's elegant, but not ostentatious. Now, I just wonder if Dad will ask Uncle Ray to be his best man again."

  Neely sat beside Trista on the bed. "What kind of wedding did Raif and Chris have?"

  "It was small and informal, held in Meemaw and Papaw's flower garden at the gazebo."

  "Well, I would like to have mine in the church."

  "That's cool. Evening?"

  "Afternoon, four, with a small sit-down dinner reception. Amile can cater it."

  "That's a great idea. Where?"

  "How about here at the house."

  "Good again. How about your dress?"

  Neely opened her sketch pad. "I drew this."

  "Oh, I love it. That dressmaker Dad knows in New Orleans can whip this out in no time."

  "You mean Avril DuLac?"

  "Yes, that's her name. How about Esther's dress?"

  "I drew it too. I'd like this one in pink. What do you think?"

  "It'll blend well with the church colors. Yes. Of course, the men have to wear tuxes."

  "Black, no tails."

  "Of course not, not for the afternoon, but I just love the dresses.” She picked up the sketch pad made from hemp and looked at the designs more closely. "They are so you. A long Bohemian skirt with a peasant blouse just fits you. What material?"

  "Cotton with satin ribbons."

  Trista made notes in a notebook. "Perfect. Sandals?"

  "If it weren't December, I'd say yes. What do you think about slipper type pumps?"

  "Perfect. You're gonna be so beautiful." Trista reached out and touched Neely's hair. "Your hair is naturally this blonde, isn't it?"

  "Yes. I've never colored it."

  "Don't. Wear it down. Put flowers in your hair."

  "Raif likes it down."

  "I knew he would. I think if there had been one thing Dad would've changed about Mom, it would've been for her to let her hair go long, but she liked it short. She thought it was more professional, and it didn't get in her way. Dad loved her the way she was. Now, flowers."

  "Lilies."

  "Okay. Can we mix in some crimson roses? They will look great with the pink dress and the church colors."

  "Rosebuds."

  "That's good. Now, music. I'm sure Dupree will be happy to sing at your wedding."

  "Really?"

  Trista gave a little snort. "Absolutely. It's sort of his job in this family. I'll arrange it if you want."

  "Please do, and I'll arrange the reception with Amile. Is that everything?"

  "Not quite. We need a photographer."

  "This is starting to get expensive."

  "Dad can afford it." The baby stirred. Trista handed Neely the pad and pen to keep writing and picked up Christine to nurse her.

  "I'm supposed to pay for the wedding," Neely said.

  "You can forget that." She sat in the rocking chair beside the bed with the baby cradled against her breast. "You're doing something small and intimate, but Dad would pay for it if you wanted twenty attendants and to have it at St. Louis's in New Orleans. That's the way he is. It makes him happy, so let him do it."

  "I really love him, Trista. I'm not after his money."

  "I know that. It shows in your eyes. When did you fall in love with Dad?"

  "You'll laugh."

  "No, I won't," she assured.

  "The day he got his tattoos. He was only a fantasy. I never thought I'd actually have a chance to be with him. He loved your mother so, but I held him up as the standard of the man I was looking for. I thought he was absolutely perfect."

  "Neely, about having kids with Dad."

  Neely laid the notebook to the side. "You know I can't."

  "Maybe you'll get a miracle. Pray about it, but you could adopt a child. I'm sure Dad will agree. After all, he was adopted."

  "I'll think about it. For the moment, I just want to be his wife."

  "Okay. Let's review our list." Neely leaned against the head board and smiled at the new mother and her baby. She passed the pad to Trista.

  Trista looked over the list. "Clothes—check; attendants—check when Dad tells us who he wants; place—check; time—check; flowers—check; reception—check; music—check; photographer—I know a good one, so photographer—check. Invitations?"

  "Raif said to give him the information and a list, and he'll have them printed and get his executive assistant to address and mail them."

  "Good enough, so invitations—check. Showers—I'll take care of that."

  "I really don't need a shower. We have all the stuff we can use in a house."

  "Then, it'll be a lingerie shower. I insist."

  "Okay. It'll be fun."

  Trista took the plans and ran. Townes got home just in time for the normal Thanksgiving hoopla. His first stop was a long kiss with his wife who giggled like a little girl when it was over. Then he held his daughter. "Oh, my God," he whispered.

  Trista put her hand on his shoulder. He leaned his head onto hers. "We made this beautiful little person. I do love you, Trista. Christine was not an accident—she was a blessing."

  "I love you too." She kissed her husband and Christine whined. Trista laughed. "I have to take her now."

  "Okay. I'm going to run see my folks. I'll be back in an hour. Think we can get your soon-to-be stepmother to babysit for a couple of hours so we can have dinner out?"

  "I think Dad would love to, and Neely—yeah, she's really kinda cool."

  Townes would be home for six weeks, until the week after New Year's. Then, he would be stationed in Norfolk, Virginia, and Trista would be going with him. Now that Trista had bonded with Neely, she hated to leave, but she planned a memorable wedding shower and wedding before time for her to leave.

  One day, Neely burst into the house in a panic calling, "Trista!"

  "What?" asked Trista coming down the stairs.

  "We forgot wedding gifts. I don't know what to give Raif. I'm sure he'll go crazy with diamonds or something. What do I do?" She pointed outside. "He's building a studio for me but insists it's not my gift. He just says the guest house is for guests, so he won't convert it."

  "Paint something just for him."

  "You think?"

  "He will love it. He already has your unicorn in his office. Paint something for his home office—maybe Pegasus in flight—a black Pegasus with blue eyes, like Dad is taking flight. I really have no idea what he's getting you. He's being very secretive. It must be big. Get to painting, woman. You only have two weeks."

  Neely and Raif's wedding day, the day after Christmas, came threatening a deluge, but nothing could dampen their spirits. Raif asked Patrick to be his be
st man because he wanted all his children to be involved.

  Esther happily served as her friend's matron of honor, but they had to adapt her dress a bit for her protruding abdomen. Neely was both happy and sad that her best friend was expecting a child. The sadness stemmed from her desire to have a baby of her own. Nonetheless, even that melancholy could not overpower the joy she felt at becoming Raiford Gautier's wife.

  Neely wore her simple cotton and satin-ribboned Bohemian skirt with a peasant blouse and flowers in her long flowing hair.

  Amile Barbeau joyfully laid Neely's hand in Raif's as if she were his own daughter and took a seat beside Colleen DuPin. Sitting in the spot reserved for the mother of the bride, she grinned as if she had a secret.

  Dupree gladly sang, but he twisted Lindsay's arm into singing with him. Knowing Neely liked old tunes, he chose Journey's "Open Arms" for his solo, Roberta Flack's "The First Time ever I Saw Your Face" for Lindsay's solo to fit her low contralto voice, and Peabo Bryson and Roberta Flack's "Tonight I Celebrate My Love for You" as their duet.

  Neely turned a rapturous face to Raif's adoring eyes as they exchanged vows. Reverend Paxton used a simple ceremony to fit the gentle spirits of the two he joined.

  "Raiford Lance Gautier, do you take this woman to be your wife?"

  "I do," replied Raif.

  "Then, repeat after me. 'I, Raif, take thee, Neely, to be my wife.'"

  Raif repeated vows he never thought he'd ever utter to another woman.

  "'I promise to love and honor you all the days of my life.'"

  "I promise to love and honor you all the days of my life."

  Reverend Paxton turned his attention to Neely. "Neely Shay Rivers, do you take this man to be your husband?"

  "I do," Neely vowed with her eyes alight.

  Neely exchanged vows from the depths of her soul. Her heart raced with each word she said.

  "Do you have rings?"

  Raif and Neely obtained matching wedding rings of platinum from their attendants.

  Reverend Paxton instructed, "Raif, place the ring on Neely's finger and repeat after me. 'With this ring I become your husband and pledge to be faithful to you from this day forward.'"

  Raif slipped the ring on Neely and repeated the words.

  Reverend Paxton smiled at Neely and instructed her just as he had Raif.

  As she put the ring on Raif's finger, Neely momentarily rubbed the white circle around his finger where he had worn his wedding ring from Chris until the day he proposed to Neely. She looked into his eyes with tears in hers. He mouthed the words, "I love you."

  With a happy heart she slipped the ring onto his finger and said, "With this ring I become your wife and pledge to be faithful to you from this day forward."

  Looking from one to the other, the beloved gray-haired old minister said, "Raiford Gautier, Neely Rivers, as you have pledged yourselves to each other, I am proud to pronounce you husband and wife. Raif, kiss your bride."

  Raif kissed Neely softly, but sensuously.

  As they turned to face the congregation, Reverend Paxton said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Raiford Gautier. You are invited to their home to celebrate this union. Please, stand and do whatever you feel like doing."

  Raif and Neely walked down the aisle arm in arm as the wedding guests applauded.

  Amile's cuisine for the reception of a woman he loved like a daughter was exquisite. The guests danced and ate and drank champagne.

  Raif and Neely exchanged wedding gifts. "You first," said Raif. Neely unveiled the painting she had entitled, "Raif in Flight."

  "For your home office," she said.

  "It's marvelous. Yes, I feel as if I'm flying when I'm with you. Now, for yours—no jewelry or anything of monetary value. There are two parts. First, I'm designing Amile's new restaurant here in Eau Boueuse. He'll be moving here. Second"—Raif pulled the key to the guest cottage from his pocket—"the guest house will have a permanent occupant from now on. Colleen, take your key."

  "Raif!" said Neely in shock.

  "I thought you might want your family close by."

  "And you knew," she said accusingly to Colleen and Amile as they nodded.

  Turning to Raif, she said, "You're the sweetest, most perfect man I've ever known, just like a knight rescuing a damsel in distress. I love you."

  "And I do so love you," Raif said before he kissed his wife again and whisked her away for a week in Hawaii.

  15

  A Mistake

  Parker barely got back to Eau Boueuse in time for his uncle's wedding. He had spent a month in the Czech Republic working with local authorities and Interpol. He had left the day after Thanksgiving and returned Christmas Eve. The trip had turned up only one useful piece of information—Latrice Descartes had birthed a son—if he could believe the words of Latrice's old mother who suffered dementia.

  No matter what Edyta Sirits Descartes had been as a young woman, Parker found a frail, senile, old lady suffering from Alzheimer's. Day after day, he visited the old woman. Some days she did not respond at all to his presence. Other days, she talked and prattled aimlessly about her daughter. Each visit literally chilled Parker to the bone. The old woman's room was twenty degrees colder than the hallway. Not only was it cold, it was drab with no sense of love or caring at all. The faded gray walls were made darker by the white, but dingy, bedding and the one frayed mauve cloth-covered chair that sat near a dirty window, allowing in little sunlight. Even the washed-out robe the old lady wore offered no cheeriness. He had to wonder if evil spirits were at work, but kept that thought to himself.

  It was always the same rhetoric. "Latrice ees such a good girl. She ees so obedient and very smart. She vill advance rapidly eef her fahzer vill leave her alone. He ees such an ogre. He broke my wrist, you know. I am so scared he vill hurt Latrice."

  Remembering what Ray had told him about the conversation many years before with Latrice's father, a career American military officer, Parker would try to reassure the old woman he was on her side. "Ms. Edyta, I'm a policeman. I can help Latrice if you can tell me where Lloyd is."

  Day in and day out, the conversation was the same. Finally, Parker gave up. He bent down and kissed the withered old lady on the cheek. He said kindly, "Good-bye, Ms. Edyta. I won't be coming back."

  Edyta looked at the young man as if she were a million miles away and asked, "Lloyd, ees zat you? Have you come to visit Grandmomma?"

  "Yes, Grandmomma," replied Parker.

  "No, no," the old woman said shaking her head, a few loose hairs falling to Parker's shoulder as he got closer to Edyta to hear her better. "Zey took Lloyd and sent me avay. I let Latrice down. She vill never forgive me. Zey killed Latrice, Lloyd. Don't ever forget zat." Then, the old woman was gone to another state of reality once more.

  Parker stopped in the hallway and arched a brow as he looked back at the door. Is she faking? Was that a clue?

  As had been arranged before Dantzler's death, he worked with Interpol for the next two weeks. Old boxed files, not even computerized littered a room almost as somber as Edyta's room. Two agents assisted him in his quest. By the time Parker finished searching hundreds of files, he had grown a full beard.

  "Damn it!" he exclaimed slamming the last file shut.

  "Merde!" Inspector Manau echoed Parker's irritation. "No evidence that this Latrice Descartes ever had a child. I read her case. My humble apologies, Detective Reynolds." His heavy French accent added to his sincerity.

  "Not your fault. But I'm heading home. Maybe something new will turn up there." Parker extended his hand. "Merci, Inspecteur, pour toute votre aide. Il a été un plaisir de travailler avec vous même si nous ne avons rien trouvé. Si vous avez besoin de mon aide aux États-Unis, ne hésitez pas à appeler."

  The inspector laughed and shook Parker's hand. "All this time, zhou have understood all my grumbling and never said a word. Zhour French is impeccable with only a slight accent."

  "That would be Cajun." Parker smile
d, his blue eyes dancing.

  "Oui, it has been a pleasure to work with zhou, aussi. I will gladly call upon zhou should I ever need the favor returned." Manau tapped his chin. "Will zhour wife like the new look?"

  "No. I'll shave after I watch the disgust spread across her face. I could use a good laugh."

  "Moi aussi. Bonne chance. I hope zhou find this murderer before he strikes again."

  Parker returned to Eau Boueuse frustrated. He was certain Lloyd was Latrice Descartes's son and that he was responsible for the deaths of four law enforcement officers. Parker was determined to find Lloyd, whoever he was, but for the moment, he would celebrate Raif's newfound happiness.

  After Raif and Neely flew to Hawaii, Parker sat down with his father and Brian Baker to discuss what he had found.

  "I think you're right on target, Parker," Ray said, "but we have to find him. How could he just vanish?"

  "Maybe he got lost in the system like I did," Parker surmised. "If I hadn't had the gumption to come looking for you, God only knows what would have happened to me."

  "You have a point, but Latrice lived in so many different places. On top of that, her black ops connection could make this lad untraceable." Ray rubbed his head as if a migraine might be in the works.

  Parker pointed. "Meds before you get sick."

  Ray opened his drawer and took the medication he had been prescribed.

  "I sure hope we don't have to catch him in the act," Baker said. "Ray, you and I are the only two left who were involved in Latrice Descartes's case."

  "I really hope he doesn't go after Raif and Larkin." Ray knitted his brow in a worried frown.

  "Lord!" Parker exclaimed. "I hadn't even thought of that. They were as instrumental in her demise as any of you; Momma, more. She actually shot and killed her."

  "Ray," said Baker. "It's time to get protection. I don't wanna leave my family."

  Ray nodded. "You could be right. I'll talk with the feds and see what we can arrange first thing in the morning. I want to change the subject to something lighter and more pleasant. What do y'all think of Neely?"