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

  Esther grimaced at the thought. "How do you know?"

  "He told me. We talked the whole time." Neely went on, "This guy, though"—She sighed—"he was so thoughtful and sweet and genuine. You could tell he didn't play games with people's minds.

  "And, oh, my God!" She splayed fingers on both hands in the air. "He looked so good. He was about six feet, a hundred eighty-five pounds. He had charcoal black hair with a little gray at his temples, and a fleck here and there." Neely touched her temples and wiggled her fingers in the air across her head. "And he had the most gorgeous sparkling blue eyes. They looked as if God had taken two little pinches of sky and planted them in his face. His teeth were perfectly straight and white, and his dimples could've been a work of art. And his body, ooh, was rock hard."

  Esther interjected, "Are you talking about his body or a body part, honey?"

  "Esther!" Neely stuck her tongue out just like a naughty child. "I didn't see that. How would I know? His body was to die for—a six pack, pecs, perfectly chiseled, and arms that made you want to beg him to hold you." Neely breathed deeply and exhaled long and loud. "Oh, he was absolutely perfect.

  "Now, the cop was just as good looking, but he had all those scars." She wrinkled her nose. "No, this man was just flawless."

  "How old is this guy?" asked Esther.

  Neely shrugged. "Mid-forties at the time."

  "Isn't he a little old for you, baby?"

  Neely shook her head. "Not to be my fantasy, and not if I could ever actually have him. There was nothing old about Raiford Gautier."

  "You even remember his name. How odd!"

  Neely laughed. "It would be hard to forget a set of identical twins that were both named Raiford because they were adopted by two different families who chose the same name."

  "That was a mouthful," Esther jibed and gobbled another beignet. "Raiford?" she said around a bite.

  "You heard me right." Neely shook her head, but giggled. "Raif got the symbol for older brother. He was older by thirteen minutes. His brother, Ray, got an angel with his wife's name in addition to the younger brother symbol. Her name was Larkin. I remember that because it was unusual and I had heard it. She's a mystery writer. I know you've read the Rusty Rose series."

  Esther nodded. Neely said, "That's the cop's wife."

  "And he's still working?" Esther practically shrieked.

  Neely rolled her eyes. "Not because he has to, but he likes his job." She lifted her mouth in a half-smile. "Now do you wanna hear about Raif?"

  Like an eager teenager after good gossip, Esther nodded.

  A youthful smile from Neely preceded the rest of her story. "Raif looked and looked for a tattoo to honor his wife, too. He wanted so much to find something perfect. He finally chose the unicorn that I designed. You know—the one with a mane that spells a name. He got that for his Christine.

  "We talked about how a tattoo should say something about a person. When they left, I remember saying that I hoped someday I would meet somebody to love me the way they loved their wives. He told me I would because I was as beautiful and full of life as my rose tattoo." She looked longingly at her left arm with its full-sleeve tattoo of a bloomed crimson rose.

  With arched eyebrows, Esther looked over the top of her coffee cup. She set it down. "Neely, honey, you need to meet a man. You're absolutely in love with a fantasy."

  "I know." She sucked powdered sugar from her index finger. "I've gone out with a lot of guys. None of them compare to Raif."

  "How long did you spend with these guys—two, three hours?"

  "Yeah, about three and a half hours. I know it's silly. I'm looking. I keep going fishing." She drank some of her coffee. "Someday the right fish will swim by."

  "I just hope you haven't found your Moby Dick."

  "I'm not seeking revenge, Esther. I'm looking for love."

  "Well, I hope you find somebody soon to get you past a fantasy. You need to find someone who's looking for the rose tattoo, a person who is full of love and life—you."

  3

  Misty Water-Colored Memories

  June 8, 2028

  Eau Boueuse, Louisiana

  Drizzle accentuated the melancholy the sea of black-clad mourners felt. The haunting strains of the solitary bagpipe playing "Amazing Grace" caused those in attendance to shiver. Police Chief Raiford Reynolds rose and stood behind the flag-draped coffin. He caressed the length of the casket and then looked up at the faces staring at him. "I"—He shook his head—"I can't do it this time." Ray sat down, unable to perform a eulogy and laid his head on his wife's shoulder.

  Parker Reynolds left the place he had been occupying with the honor guard and stood in the spot his father had vacated. He looked at the faces in the throng.

  The young man stroked the coffin with as much love as the chief had before he spoke strangled words from his heart. Then he vowed to catch the person who had murdered his aunt. "Aunt Chris, I promise you justice will be served. I…I"—He placed his white-gloved hand on his chest—"will find the heartless coward who did this. I love you. I will see you again in the presence of angels and our Savior. Until then, rest assured I will do that which I have promised." He returned to his place in line.

  The gun volley shattered the silence and startled the mourners.

  Family and friends of Christine Milovich Gautier gathered at her home after the somber funeral in the rain. Her husband, Raif, requested that her loved ones come to the house, not to weep and mourn, but to celebrate a life worth living. The various groups throughout the house shared memories of a woman who had touched their lives as they ate and drank nourishment provided by the members of Charity Chapel, the church where Raif and Chris had been members for twenty years.

  Lazarus Milovich remembered the courage and strength of his eldest child when at age twelve she had shouldered the responsibility of being a mother to her six younger siblings after her mother's death. Lazarus reminisced to the people standing nearest him. "She had to grow up too fast. She always took such good care of every one of us. She helped me so much. Without her, I'm sure I wouldn't have been able to get all the others to adulthood." He looked around to see his other six children in various conversations.

  Though the air conditioner ran full-blast, Lazarus, a native New Yorker, perspired heavily in the Gulf-coastal humidity of Eau Boueuse, Louisiana. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his bald pate and eyes of sweat, masking the tears he could not stop. Gulping, he said, "Even in death she's still taking care of us. This is the first time we've all been under the same roof since she and Raif were married. I can't let that happen again. I promise, Chrissy."

  He turned his attention to a family photo of the Gautier family. It hung over the fireplace that opened on two sides—the dining room and the family room. Noticing how much his two granddaughters, Lindsay and Trista, resembled their mother and him—mousy-brown hair and soft brown eyes—he placed his fingers to his lips and then to Chris's face in the portrait. "I promise," he repeated. He looked toward Trista as she sat far from the gathered crowd, head laid onto the armrest of the chair her mother most often used.

  Audrey Bertram placed a hand on the forlorn father's shoulder. He patted her hand. She thought about the first time she met Chris. A sad smile flickered across her face. "I met her just a couple of days before she and Raif were married. She was so beautiful. She never treated me like a criminal even though I had just been paroled. To her, I was a woman who had suffered. She and I had something in common."

  She glanced around the room to find her identical twin sons, one the widower of Chris Gautier. "Both of us had been children who had children. I was thirteen and she was fourteen. We connected on a truly spiritual level. I loved her so much. She wasn't just my daughter-in-law; she was also my friend. She encouraged me to give myself a chance to live and to fall in love. I'm so glad she did because I've had a wonderful life with Walter."

  "I agree with my wife," said Walter Bertram. "Chris was amazing." He took his wife's hand, ki
ssed it, and looked into sapphire-blue eyes. "The first time I met her, she was investigating Raif. I think she fell in love with the man I described when she told me to tell her everything I could about Raiford Gautier."

  He dabbed the top of his bald head with the napkin he held. "She never jumped to conclusions. She weighed the evidence, and ninety-nine percent of the time, she made the right decisions. She was the most logical female I ever met."

  Moving into the spacious, comfortable family room from the spotless, seldom-used formal living room and overhearing Walter's last statement, Dorothy Reynolds laughed. "Yes, she was. The most illogical thing she ever did was to fall in love with Raif, but they were perfect together. I mean, when she met Raif, he was a suspected serial killer, but her instinct told her he was innocent."

  Dorothy's eyes sought the two men who had the same first name, one of which she had adopted. "And, boy! She sure could keep Ray in line. She was the best partner he ever had. She never let him bully her. I knew when I met her she would be one of my daughters-in-law. When she said Raif's name, her eyes danced." She bowed her graying head and blew her nose, refusing to give way to sorrow.

  "Yes," said Albert Reynolds, handing his wife a glass of Chablis and sipping his own. "I first met her in the hospital after that Descartes debacle when both Ray and Raif were in surgery. She was taking care of everybody, but the one place she wanted to be was by Raif's side." The white-haired gentleman put his arm around Dorothy. "One thing that I loved about Chris was that she never let Dorothy intimidate her."

  Dorothy Reynolds gave her husband a scathing look. He laughed. "Face it, dear. You can be intimidating, but Chris knew exactly how to handle you."

  "Yes, she did—with love."

  "I was just remembering Chris's sense of humor." Brian Baker, Chris's partner on the Eau Boueuse police force for the last several years, walked up with a plate of food he had made himself from the spread that was laid out in the kitchen, breakfast nook, and dining room.

  "Her wit was sharp," Baker went on with a chuckle. "She never let anything really ruffle her. One night Olivia and I were having dinner with Chris and Raif. The place was packed. It took forever for our server to come to the table so we could order cocktails. Chris announced, 'I'm tired of waiting,' and went to the bar. It was only five feet away, so even over the hubbub we could hear what she ordered, her normal mixed drink, a sloe screw. The bartender looked right at her and said, 'I get off at midnight.' Chris came right back with, 'Take it up with my husband. See what he thinks.' Raif looked at the bartender and shook his head while saying, 'I think not, but while you're making hers slow, make mine slow and comfortable.' Chris came back with both drinks. She handed Raif his and said, 'Finish that fast so we can go home. I'll show you slow and comfortable.' They left without dinner."

  Audrey laughed again. "I know this might be weird to some, but since I'm only thirteen years older than Chris is…was"—She shook her head and took a deep breath—"we talked like girls do. I remember her telling me about the first time she made love to my son. They skipped dinner that night too. When Raif woke up and she was gone, he went to Ray and was willing to have Chris detained as a possible terrorist at the airport." She put a hand to her forehead.

  "When she told me that, I wanted to knock a knot on both men's heads," Audrey said. "It all worked out. Lindsay had already talked to her and she was standing in the doorway of Ray's office hearing the whole thing. Ray loved getting the upper hand on Raif with Chris watching and listening. Oh, but they were so much in love and married a month later." She bit her lip not to cry and pushed damp blonde wisps of hair from her face.

  Drifting to the gathering group, Lawrence Dantzler, an FBI agent who had worked with Chris, added with a chuckle, "She really loved Raif. When Ray and he traded places to capture Latrice Descartes, I poured it on thick about when Chris and I dated. The man I was talking to looked as if he could kill me." He held up his hands as if in surrender. "I swear to God I thought it was Ray, and I was trying to make him sweat. The next day, Chris walked in and gave me a right hook that could have come from one of my opponents in the mixed martial arts circuit when I fought." He rubbed his jaw at the memory. "That's when she let me know it was Raif and I had best back off. She was so full of passion on multiple levels."

  "Yes," added Sheena Johnson Reynolds, joining the group. "Aunt Chris was quite passionate. She once told me that the first time she and Uncle Raif made love, they forewent dinner."

  The group laughed out loud.

  No one noticed Trista look their way with her jaw tightly clenched.

  "What?" asked Sheena, turning her blonde curly-top head from side to side and stretching her green eyes wide. "What did I say that's so funny?"

  "We already talked about the fact that she and Raif had the tendency to skip dinner and make love," answered Audrey.

  "Oh." The younger woman wagged her head and laughed lightly. She took a moment to watch the man who had lost the love of his life.

  Though he played a gracious host, Sheena could tell he was broken. Watching Raif with his son briefly, she saw the anguish on both their faces. Patrick hugged his father and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Sheena sighed. "I'll never forget what she did at my lingerie shower. One of my friends gave me this sexy little nighty-and-panty set in peach. When I got to Aunt Chris's gift, the outfit was just like my friend's except in black. I kept looking through the tissue for the panties. Finally, I asked, 'Aunt Chris, where are the panties?' She winked and said, 'Honey, you won't need them.' I know I turned ten shades of red."

  "But she was right, wasn't she, dear?" teased Dorothy Reynolds. Sheena blushed crimson, and Dorothy cackled. "Now, that's thirteen shades of red!"

  "What are you doing to my wife?" asked Parker Reynolds.

  "We were discussing Aunt Chris's passion," answered Sheena.

  "She was passionate," agreed Parker, "but she was also compassionate as well. When I was in the hospital after my mother shot me and I lost my kidney, she came and sat with me. Even though I couldn't respond to her, I knew she was there. After Mom went to the asylum, Aunt Chris talked to me a lot. She said it was just like losing her mom, and she knew how I felt. We talked about my feelings of abandonment. When I was angry, she let me throw a temper tantrum. When I needed to cry, she just put her arms around me and let me cry. Sometimes she would cry with me. She helped me understand that my feelings were normal."

  He took a deep steadying breath. He was on the verge of tears. "I can't believe I've been to two funerals in less than two weeks. Of course, only this family, Mom's family, and the prison guard who always escorted her to my functions were present at Mom's. He cried harder than anyone else and confessed that he had real feelings for my mother." He swallowed hard. "On the other hand, Aunt Chris's service was packed. God! I miss her."

  "Parker, no tears," reminded Lindsay Parks, putting her arm around Parker's waist.

  "Tomorrow we'll cry. Tomorrow we'll be angry. Tonight we celebrate a life well-lived."

  She looked across the room at her stepfather. To anyone who loved him, it was apparent that the man was about to break down. She let go of her cousin standing beside her and walked to the man who had accepted her and loved her as his own child. She put her arm around his waist. He

  hugged her back.

  Lindsay smiled sadly and said to the crowd that had come together near the connecting entrances of the dining room, family room, and sunroom, "The first time I talked to my mother, she was sitting in the New Orleans airport about to fly back to D.C. I helped her sort out her priorities." She smirked as was her custom and mischievous personality. "She came back and married this wonderful man. After that, there was never any doubt that her family was her number one priority. She loved us so much. Even in California, if I had called and said, 'Mom, I need you,' she would've been on the next flight. From the moment I met her, I never doubted her love. It was her whole reason for giving me up for adoption."

  "She was my best frie
nd," said Larkin Sloan Reynolds. "She never lied to me even if it meant hurting my feelings. She was persistent. She nagged me to death about Ray because she knew I loved him, and she would never have let me marry Robert (Row-Bear) LaFontaine even if she'd had to stand up and object at the wedding."

  She looked at her brother-in-law. She, too, could tell Raif was hovering on the brink of an abyss. She walked near him and squeezed his hand. "When I first met Ray, we played a little game where we used the letters of our names to describe ourselves."

  In a sing-song voice and tapping a rhythm as her auburn hair swayed to some unheard beat, she went on. "This is my Christine: Compassionate—full of love and understanding; Heroic—always willing to sacrifice something of herself; Realistic—dealing in truth but somehow making hard truths less ugly; Independent—able to exist in the worst of times; Saucy—never taking nonsense from anybody; Tenacious—never one to give up; Intuitive—sensing when we needed her most; Nurturing—always offering support to help us grow in some way; Eternal—Her spirit will live forever both in Heaven and here in our hearts."

  Raiford Reynolds put his arm around his wife and met his brother's eyes. He nodded. "Chris was tops. Whatever she was to each of us, she was the best at it. She would never have settled for second best. Yes, Lindsay, tomorrow we'll be angry and we'll cry. Tonight we'll remember and know that all our lives were better for Christine Milovich Gautier having graced them."

  Trista jumped from her chair. "How can y'all act like nothing happened? My mother is dead!" She glared at each person in succession. "Y'all didn't see it. Y'all didn't hear her last word. Want to know what it was?" Glowering directly at her father, jaw clenched and hands fisted, she said, "'Raif.' Her final thought was about you, even though she was looking at me." She screamed and fled up the stairs.