Broken (The Raiford Chronicles #3 Book 1) Page 26

  Chambliss turned around. He had to get in one last jab. "Wait. One final question. Kyle, who removed your tattoo?"

  "Mrs. Gautier. She replaced it with a different one to cover the scars."

  "What do you have now?"

  "A Celtic guardian."

  "Do you know anyone else who has that?"

  "Yes."

  "Who?"

  "Raiford Reynolds."

  "I thought so."

  "Objection!" yelled Desmond.

  "No more questions!" Chambliss hurried to say before the judge could respond. He wanted the fact that Kyle replaced his father's tattoo with Ray's to stay in the transcript. His strategy was not so much to prove that Lloyd did not have a vendetta, but to make it seem that Lloyd was the target of a vendetta against any vestige of Latrice Descartes.

  36

  Verdict

  After Lloyd was taken back to his cell, Chambliss visited him. He said, "Show me your abdomen, Lloyd."

  Palermo shrugged. "I don't have a baphomet." He showed his midsection to his lawyer. "You already knew that from photos."

  "You have some scarring. Tattoo removal?"

  "I was knifed. Check the records."

  "Lloyd, either you're innocent, or you're the best damned liar I've ever met."

  Lloyd smirked. "My friends have paid you to make the jury believe the former."

  Chambliss turned to leave, but looked back. "Why is it always so damned cold near you until you began bawling your eyes out in court? Do you know how guilty that made you look?"

  Lloyd shrugged. "Maybe it showed I'm not a heartless rapist and killer, but a man who could show compassion for a child such as Kyle."

  Chambliss frowned. Lloyd's face looked younger.

  Another weekend went by before the defense presented its case. Chambliss first called a rebuttal psychiatrist who testified that nothing indicated Lloyd Palermo to be lying. With conflicting psychiatric opinions, the jury would have to decide which to believe.

  The forensic reports were reanalyzed. The only conclusive evidence was that the bullets were fired from a gun Lloyd Palermo had access to. Nothing said definitively he fired the gun. There was no DNA or fingerprints. The defense contended it was quite possible that someone else set up Officer Palermo. The gun was kept in a general arsenal. Several officers had access to that arsenal. Yes, he had been a member of the bomb disposal unit and had the knowledge of how to build a bomb. Nonetheless, that fact, too, was circumstantial.

  The only witness to be able to link Palermo to anything was Kyle LaFontaine. Mr. Chambliss never tried to deny Kyle had been sexually molested. On the contrary, he painted a very sympathetic picture of the boy. Then, he stressed through the expert testimony of a psychologist who dealt with abused children that because of what had happened, Kyle was seriously disturbed. He needed to blame someone and justify his heinous actions. He was in a state of denial and had even replaced his tattoo that reminded him of his father with that of a surrogate father who made him feel safe, albeit the one person his father had loved. Perhaps, it was his way of feeling some form of his father's love.

  Desmond was glad he had chosen not to ask anything about Kyle's attempted suicide. Though the boy had told him about it, the prosecutor did not enter it into the record.

  Finally, Chambliss entered photographs taken of Lloyd when he was arrested. He made a show by flashing them in a PowerPoint presentation. He paused the presentation. "As the court can see, Officer Palermo has no tattoo of any kind on his abdomen." He then added the public record of Lloyd's knifing. "No, ladies and gentleman, on the contrary, Officer Palermo has scars from doing his job." He called the emergency room doctor that had attended Lloyd to corroborate massive scarring from such an attack.

  A low rumble began. The judge banged his gavel. "Do I have to clear the courtroom again?"

  The noise subsided.

  Raiford Reynolds clutched his own abdomen where Lloyd's mother had left multiple scars when she had stabbed him many times.

  Desmond held his head. He looked as if he were having one of Raiford Reynolds's migraines. He was sure Palermo had had his tattoo removed, but he couldn't prove it.

  Court recessed. The Gautier family, the Reynolds family, and the Blackwell family found a quiet place to dine. "He's going to get off, isn't he, Ray?" asked Raif.

  "Yeah. Is it possible he was set up? Kyle, are you certain he's the same man?"

  "Yes. He's the one. I know he had his tattoo removed just like I did. His scars distorted any residual shadows just like Neely covered mine up with a different tattoo."

  Ray patted Kyle's shoulder. "I'm sorry, but I don't know how to prove it. I apologize to all of you. I feel as if I've let all of you down. Chambliss has made this case seem as if I should be on trial. Forgive me."

  "It's not your fault, Ray," assured Raif, "but the system is broken if the man walks."

  "No, the system works most of the time," argued Ray. "He's just damned good, better than his mother."

  Parker added his thoughts. "I tried to convince them to hold off on the trial until we built a better case. Even that Pickering fellow tried to tell them the evidence was too circumstantial. Kyle's testimony is the only one that screams 'GUILTY!'" He gave his sister's boyfriend a sympathetic smile. I won't tell him that child psychologist painted real doubt for the jury. Or that he should never have mentioned that tattoo.

  The attorneys closed the next day. Desmond tried to convince the jury that Palermo was a cold, calculating monster bent on revenge and being a police officer had only aided him to cover his tracks. Chambliss argued that Lloyd was a scapegoat whose only crime was being the son of an insane woman, something over which he had never had control.

  After several days of deliberation, the jury delivered its verdict. Judge Gillette read the slip of paper handed to him. He looked strangely at the jury. He addressed the jurors, "Madame Foreperson, is this the unanimous decision of the jury?"

  "Yes, Your Honor," replied a middle-aged professional-looking woman with short dark graying hair.

  "And there is no dissent?" Judge Gillette scanned each juror and made eye contact with each person.

  "No, Your Honor," replied the woman again.

  Judge Gillette looked a bit dismayed as he addressed Lloyd Palermo. "Will the defendant, please, rise and face the jury?"

  Palermo and Chambliss stood and turned toward the jury.

  Judge Gillette asked, "Madame Foreperson, in the matter of the State of Louisiana versus Lloyd Palermo how do you find?"

  The room became icy. There was total silence as the woman replied, "Not guilty on all counts."

  Judge Gillette asked once again, "So say you all?"

  "Yes, Your Honor."

  There was still, stunned silence in the courtroom as Judge Carter Gillette turned to Lloyd Palermo. "Mr. Palermo, consider yourself lucky that I was judge and not jury. You're free to go."

  Then multiple murmurings began.

  Gigi Cockerill looked across the courtroom at Parker Reynolds and made eye contact. "How?" she mouthed. "He's clearly guilty."

  Parker shrugged. Everyone affected by the verdict left the courtroom without comment.

  Back in Eau Boueuse, Raif and Neely sat in Ray's living room. Raif said quietly, "How did that happen?"

  "The evidence wasn't solid enough," stated Ray. "We jumped the gun." He shook his head. "I suggested they wait a little longer. Parker did. Even Agent Pickering did." A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Robert would have waited. He was a damned good prosecutor."

  "What were we supposed to do—wait for someone else to die?" argued Raif. He took Neely's hand when he saw her brush silent tears from her cheeks.

  "I don't know, Raif. I'm baffled. I can, however, understand the verdict. You cannot convict a person of a capital crime if you have the slightest doubt, especially when a person's life is on the line."

  "Did we make a mistake, Ray?"

  "I don't think so, and I sure hope he doesn't start again."

>   "I don't think he's that stupid."

  "No, he's extremely intelligent, but he's broken, and I don't think he can be fixed."

  Neely squeezed Raif's hand. She took a deep breath. "Honey, I think we're safe. I don't think he's a threat to us anymore. It's just that I'm broken over the jury's decision. I guess a part of me wants payback."

  "Why do you think he's done?" asked Raif.

  "I don't know. Call it intuition. Maybe it was the gasp when he saw my rose tattoo."

  "He recalled Grandmomma's words, did he?"

  "I think so."

  "I hope so."

  Raif and Neely went home where all three girls decided to sleep with Mommy and Daddy. Even in his exhausted state, having his children that close to him healed Raif's broken spirit.

  Kyle made his weekly pilgrimage to the Reynolds home. The boy seemed crushed. Ray tried to lift his spirits.

  Kyle said in a choked voice, "What makes me feel so bad is that twelve people thought I lied. I've tried so hard to come to grips with all the garbage in my life. It just hurts to know they think I lied. I didn't, Uncle Ray. I didn't."

  "I know. Kyle, we all believe you. And it's not that the jury didn't believe you. They had doubt, and no matter how small, they had to decide if a man lived or died." Ray rubbed his face, deep in thought. Finally, he said, "Come with me back to my tool box."

  "We've had this talk."

  Ray sighed. "No, we haven't."

  Kyle followed his godfather. Ray opened his tool box and lifted a tray. He took out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to the boy who looked so much like his long-dead friend.

  "Your father left this for me. Saul gave it to me at his wake. The day you came into the study, I had just read this. I can't tell you for certain the person he mentions is Lloyd, but it's verification that something happened that disturbed him." Ray took a deep breath. "And it shows he loved you."

  Kyle read the short letter in which his father had confessed his sexual orientation and his love for Ray. But more important to the boy, Robert declared his love for his son. He looked up at the man with him, soft blue eyes brimming tears. "Why did you keep this?"

  "I don't know." Ray shrugged. "I just thought it might help you to read it. I guess I should destroy it now. It won't change anything."

  Kyle refolded the paper and handed it back. "It's yours. You can decide what to do with it. Thanks for sharing it. At least I have my family, my friends, and my girl." He smiled. "Thank you for trusting me with Courtney."

  "What are your plans for tonight?"

  "A movie and food."

  "Have fun. Be in the door by midnight."

  37

  Closure

  After a riotously funny comedy, Kyle and Courtney walked hand in hand into the ancient Waffle House on Route 12. No one else was there. They took a booth in the back and held hands across the table still laughing about the scenes in the film. Lorna, the same worn waitress who had once come to take Larkin Sloan Reynolds's order when Mia had kidnapped both Parker and Ray, approached the couple. She placed two glasses of water on the table, a courtesy she had not forsaken in the changing times. She pulled out her pad and asked good-naturedly, "What can I get you happy young folks tonight?"

  Kyle quipped, "Ladies first."

  Courtney giggled. "All right. I'll have two eggs, over easy; three strips of bacon; grits; hash browns, plain; a blueberry waffle; and orange juice."

  "And you?" Lorna asked Kyle.

  "I don't know. I might have to fast or let Courtney wash dishes after that order."

  "Kyle!" Courtney popped his hand.

  "Just kidding. I'll have the steak and eggs, over easy; a double order of hash browns with cheese; and toast. I'd like orange juice, too, please."

  "You two must be starving," laughed Lorna.

  "No, just teenagers," replied Kyle with a grin.

  "How would you like your steak, Mr. Charmer?"

  "Medium rare, please."

  "Have it in a jiffy." Lorna bounced away feeling happy about the friendly conversation with the young people.

  "Mr. Charmer," laughed Courtney.

  "Court, I've been thinking. I'd really like to get away from here for a while."

  "And go where?" Courtney asked, her voice tight with anxiety.

  "Calm down. I'm not planning to leave you. I was thinking maybe we could take a year off between high school and college. Maybe we could spend a year in Europe."

  "Just the two of us?" teased Courtney.

  "Actually, I was thinking maybe we could go with your folks."

  "Party pooper!" laughed Courtney.

  Kyle laughed. "I'm sure Uncle Ray would not approve of our hiking across Europe together and unattended. And I'll have to get permission to go from my PO. I think he'll give it though."

  "Kyle, you'll be eighteen in a couple of weeks, and I'll be eighteen in a couple of months. Technically, we'll be adults."

  "Technically," countered Kyle, "you'll always be your daddy's little girl. Frankly, I'd like to be with you forever, not piss off your dad and have him kill me."

  "He's right," said a deep masculine voice as Lloyd Palermo slid in beside Kyle. "Listen to him." A cold wind accompanied his arrival.

  Both young people uttered gasps, and Kyle's eyes misted. Courtney pulled out her phone.

  "Put the phone up," commanded Palermo. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just wanna talk to you, Kyle. I have to talk to you."

  "And say what—'I'm sorry?'" asked Kyle, quirking an eyebrow and dipping one corner of his mouth.

  "All right," said Palermo. "I'm sorry. Now, please just talk to me without making a scene. I promise after this you will never see me again. I've sent letters to everyone else, but you I needed to see face to face."

  "Why? Do you believe confession is good for the soul?"

  "Perhaps. Perhaps both you and I need closure."

  Lorna came back to the table. "You the chaperone? They probably need one, but they're cute together, aren't they?"

  "Yes, they make a great couple," answered Palermo.

  "What'll ya have?"

  "Whatever the boy's having."

  "Easy enough."

  Lorna set a glass of water in front of Lloyd and went back to place the order.

  "Do you really think you are gonna sit here and eat with us?" asked Kyle.

  "Yes. Even a condemned man deserves a last meal."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "Never mind. You're safe here, Kyle. I just wanna talk."

  "So, talk." Kyle folded his arms across his chest.

  "Okay. First, I wanna talk about your father."

  "What? Are you gonna deny that he was your bitch?"

  "Stop it, right now!" Lloyd knitted his brow in a deep frown. "You will not speak about your father like that."

  Blue eyes stretched wide, Kyle looked at this very strange man.

  "Kyle, your father was a good man." He took a deep breath and relaxed. "When I first met him, I intended to ruin him politically. Do you remember how you said you couldn't kill Neely Rivers because she was so beautiful?"

  "Yeah, and it made me look like a bad person that the jury didn't believe."

  In a choked voice, Lloyd said, "Believe it or not, that's how I felt about your father. At his funeral when I gave you the flag, I was completely broken, but I couldn't share my heartache with anyone. I was hoping just the secret we shared would help. Think what you want about me, but Robert LaFontaine was a good man. I loved him. I could've loved you just as much." Lloyd reached a hand toward Kyle's cheek.

  "Don't touch me," ordered Kyle.

  Lloyd withdrew his hand. "You're right. I'm sorry. You're not like your father. You have him to thank for that."

  "What are you babbling about?"

  "You said you thought maybe your father was molested as a child. He was. So, was I. It does tend to do things to you. I was in four foster homes before the Palermos adopted me. In one of those homes, there were three older boys. They did th
ings to me and forced me to do things to them many times. It changes a person. Yes, I blamed a lot of people for my not being with my mother, or at least my grandmother. They would've protected me."

  "Your mother murdered twenty-four people."

  "I never said she was sane, but she would've protected me. That's why she left me with my grandmother. Then, the government sent her away. Your dad protected you, too."

  "How?"

  "By not being close to you. You think he didn't love you, but he did. He loved you so much, and he was so proud of you." Tears dripped down Lloyd's cheeks. He swabbed his face with a napkin. "Robert kept his distance from you because he was afraid he would hurt you like he had been hurt. Obviously, that fear was unfounded as you saw that day in his office. He did try to protect you."

  "What are you saying?"

  "Who do you think hurt your father?"

  Kyle dipped his head to the side. "Are you saying Granddad did it?"

  "Why do you think you were never allowed to spend the night with your grandparents?"

  Lorna arrived with the food. She could tell by the intense facial expressions, nothing else was needed. As she placed dishes in front of each person, Kyle's mind raced. I did once hear Dad tell Grandma that he would never let me be alone there. He scowled deeply remembering his grandfather's hand on his backside once after Robert died. Jesus! Granddad molested my father. Grandma never asked for us to stay the night until Granddad died when I was twelve. He put a hand to his mouth. She knew! Oh, my God! That's why they divorced and remarried so many times. He must have promised not to do it again. Maybe he did stop, but Dad was afraid for me. He did love me, just like Uncle Ray's letter said.

  Courtney mouthed, "Kyle?"

  "Tell you later," he lipped back. "How do you know so much about me?" asked Kyle after Lorna moved away.