Broken (The Raiford Chronicles #3 Book 1) Page 27

  "Kyle, Robert and I were in a relationship for two years before he was murdered."

  "Did you get pissed off about his little escapades with women?"

  "No, because he needed it. I was more pissed off because I knew how he felt about Raiford Reynolds. I wanted him to feel that way about me. Then, Reynolds got the bitch who killed him put in the loony bin. Sorry, Courtney, but I hated your father. I wanted him to suffer. I never had any intention of killing him."

  "Are you confessing to killing Aunt Chris and the others?" asked Courtney.

  "I'll get there. I want to finish with Kyle. Eat. I didn't come to spoil your appetite." Lloyd tore into his meal with relish.

  Kyle and Courtney looked at each other. "I'm starving," muttered Courtney.

  "Me, too," responded Kyle, yet he toyed with his food, only taking a couple of bites of steak.

  Lloyd's fork stabbed into Kyle's steak. "Eat your food. I don't want the waitress to get nosy."

  "Are you threatening us?" Courtney asked, her hand working furiously under the table as she texted.

  "No. And please put your phone on the tabletop. I swear I won't hurt either of you."

  "Not sure I trust the word of a killer and pervert." Courtney put her phone on the table.

  "I've been following you since you left your house. If I'd wanted to hurt you, I'd have done it by now."

  Both began to eat a bit more, not sure what else to do. Kyle's foot found Courtney's. "It's gonna be okay." He formed the words without sound. Somehow they ate every bite in silence.

  Lloyd asked, "Do you like coffee or cocoa? No. No. Milk. You're kids. You need milk." He signaled Lorna. "Two chocolate milks and coffee, please." He turned to Kyle. "Where were we?"

  "You wanted to finish with me before you confessed to multiple counts of murder."

  "Right. Okay. I sought you out to become part of our little organization because you're Robert's son. I wanted to protect you and take care of you."

  "By having me rape and murder somebody?"

  Lloyd breathed deeply. "I was wrong. First of all, Neely Rivers was a bad choice. My grandmother warned me to never harm the rose tattoo. I didn't know she had a rose tattoo."

  "Karma's a bitch," muttered Courtney as Lorna delivered the milk and coffee.

  "Thank you," Lloyd said with an actual smile.

  "Welcome," said Lorna politely.

  "I want to be really clear. I only used what The Bald Eagles were already doing to advance my own agenda. I did not have a hand in killing those other women, and I have no stolen paintings in my possession." Lloyd nodded. "You're right, Courtney. I realized that after watching your dad. Kyle, do you love Raiford Reynolds?"

  "Not like my dad did."

  "I know that. How about as a surrogate father?"

  "Yeah, I do. He's Courtney's dad and my godfather. One day he'll be my father-in-law."

  "You two are that serious, huh? That would make Robert happy." He nodded approval. "Well, Reynolds is a good man. I regret not seeing it before. The wife is a spitfire. I admire her. I'm glad my plans for her were thwarted."

  Courtney's phone vibrated. Lloyd shook his head. The girl ground her teeth.

  Lloyd went on. "The rose tattoo is amazing. She's tough. If I had ever wanted a woman, it would've been one like her. Then, there's Gautier, my mother's big mistake. How does he merit two incredible women?"

  "Uncle Raif may be an angel in disguise," said Courtney. "Daddy calls Momma 'Angel,' but Uncle Raif is the most loving, generous person I've ever known."

  "Yes," mused Palermo. "He does seem so. I wish…"

  "What?" asked Kyle.

  "I wish I had never had association with the entire thing."

  "Is that remorse?"

  "I suppose it is. I suppose I should show some remorse before I meet my mother."

  The uncomfortably cool air mediated.

  "The jury found you not guilty," reminded Kyle.

  "I had a good attorney."

  "Who paid for him?" Kyle drank some of his milk. "You couldn't afford him on a cop's salary."

  "The Bald Eagles."

  "Just who or what are they?"

  "I suppose your assessment was good enough. I guess they are neo-Nazis, definitely white supremacists. Who? Well, they come from all walks of life. I can't give you names. Like you said, they would probably be false anyway. Again for the record, they're the ones who began the art thefts and the rape-murders. I just used it to my advantage. You probably should let Reynolds know he hasn't heard the last of that organization." The man stirred sugar into his coffee and drank it to the last drop.

  "Tell me something else."

  "What, Kyle?"

  "What happened to your baphomet?"

  "I had it removed after Robert was murdered. He hated it because it reminded him of Latrice. No, he did not know she was my mother. I would've lost him if he had. I really did love him, Kyle."

  "I knew you had it removed. Please, just say it."

  "What do you want me to say, Kyle?"

  "Admit that you raped me."

  "That wasn't my intent or thinking at the time. I never wanted to hurt you, but yes, I raped you. I do want you to know that I have never, ever touched another child." He made eye contact with Courtney. "I'm not a pervert. I'm so sorry, Kyle. It broke my heart to see you cry on that witness stand. I almost stood up and changed my plea. You are so beautiful. You look just like your father. I am sorry. Maybe one day you'll forgive me, but I won't know."

  "Why?"

  "I'm going away. You'll never see me again, Kyle."

  "You should ask God to forgive you."

  Palermo laughed bitterly. "I don't think that's possible."

  "Of course, it is."

  "You really do believe that. I wish I could. Don't worry about me. I deserve whatever I get. You deserve a wonderful life. If it's with Courtney, good. After all, she gives you ginger ale."

  "I'd do anything for Kyle," she said.

  Nodding, Lloyd went on, "I really am sorry. I wish I could take it all back. I'm very proud to see you didn't let it destroy you. You're strong."

  Lloyd Palermo did reach out and touch Kyle's cheek. Kyle stiffened, but the caress was brief. Lloyd handed Kyle a small disc recorder, a thin flat object barely four inches square. Warmth enclosed the booth. "It's all on disc, everything that was said here. Do whatever you want to do with it. I'm leaving before Raiford Reynolds gets here. Good-bye." He laid a hundred dollar bill on the table and walked out.

  "Courtney?" Kyle asked full of questions. "What the hell was that?"

  "I don't know, Kyle. I tried to text my dad, but didn't get him a final message."

  Suddenly, there was a loud boom in the parking lot.

  "Oh, my God!" shouted Kyle, jumping to his feet. "Call your dad. No, call Parker. Your dad's not a cop anymore."

  "What was that?" asked Courtney, knowing the answer but not wanting to believe it.

  "Closure," answered Kyle.

  38

  A Broken and Contrite Spirit

  Detective Parker Reynolds was the first to get to the scene. He was closely followed by his father and his uncle. When they arrived it was clear who was in charge as Parker commanded, "Stay over there. Better yet, go inside with the kids."

  "Who do you think you are?" asked Ray.

  "The cop here. Now, go."

  Parker cordoned off the scene. There was no question Lloyd Palermo had committed suicide. The only question was, "Why?"

  Once the forensics team arrived, Parker went into the Waffle House where Ray and Raif sat with Kyle and Courtney. Lorna had served them all coffee on the house. She handed Parker a cup as he walked in.

  "Thank you," he said before he turned to the teenagers. "What happened?"

  Kyle handed Parker the disc. "It's all there. I don't know what to do with it."

  "The kids didn't do nothing, Mister," said Lorna. "Neither did the man. They just talked. Then, he went out and the next thing any of us knew—bang!"

/>   "Thank you, Ms.?" Parker said politely.

  "Miss Dominique. Lorna Dominique."

  "Thank you, Miss Dominique." Parker motioned a uniformed officer from the doorway. "Take Miss Dominique's statement." He nodded toward Lorna who followed the other policeman. Then he turned back to his family. "Daddy, get the kids home. The press will be swarming this place in a few minutes. I'll come by later for official statements."

  "Let's go," said Ray, waving the teens out. "I'll follow you home."

  They all arrived back at Ray's place. Once inside Ray asked, "What did happen?"

  Kyle replied, "Parker will probably let you hear the recording." He shrugged. "He basically confessed and apologized. He said he had sent everybody else letters. I guess you need to watch the mail. I don't know what else to say."

  "He didn't hurt either of you?"

  "No, Daddy, he just talked," added Courtney. "He was actually—nice. I guess it was sort of his suicide note. He even made a comment about a condemned man having a last meal. I thought it was sarcasm. Apparently, he had condemned himself." She fidgeted and scowled.

  "What aren't you saying, Courtney," Raif asked, his eyebrows arched.

  "Well, when he first came in, it was really cold. The more he talked, the more comfortable the air became. Then, Kyle told Lloyd he should pray for forgiveness."

  "And?" Ray prompted when she hesitated.

  "And," Kyle took up, "by the time he finished talking, the booth felt almost cozy warm. It was kind of weird."

  "But you're both okay?"

  "Daddy, what was that temperature change all about?"

  "I can't say for sure, but…" He ran his hand through his hair, mentally debating how best to say what he thought without scaring Kyle and Courtney. He sought his brother's eyes.

  Raif spoke up. "I think it has to do with spiritual warfare. It was really cold around Latrice and Mia, at first. It never got warm near Latrice."

  Ray finished, "After Mia was institutionalized, it did with her."

  Courtney scowled. "Weird. I would've thought Hell would be hot, not cold."

  "I just don't want either of you to be afraid," Ray said.

  "We're okay," said Kyle. "But there's something I'd like to ask you."

  "What, Kyle?" Ray said.

  "I really need to get away from here for a while." He took Courtney's hand. "Do you think it would be possible for Courtney and me to take a year off between high school and college and spend the year in Europe with y'all?"

  "Hmm. What does your mom think?"

  "I haven't asked yet. I wanted to clear it with you."

  "Courtney, what do you think?"

  "I'll be fine, Daddy, but Kyle needs this. I'm not a child anymore. This is the man I love." She looked her boyfriend in the eye. "I'll do whatever I need to do for him."

  Raif covered his mouth to keep from laughing at his brother.

  Ray hooded his eyes. "The same rules apply in Europe as here."

  "Understood," agreed Kyle.

  "Talk to Deanna. Clear it with your probation officer. We leave June twelfth. I need to know as soon as possible to be able to get more tickets."

  "I'm not gonna ask her, Uncle Ray. I'm gonna tell her. Get the tickets. Saul will make it right with Mr. Saunders. He'll think it's a good idea and will likely suggest a video visit each week."

  "Gotta love this modern age of technology." Ray chuckled.

  Two days later, several people across America received letters penned by a dead man. All expressed remorse for some heinous action that had affected their lives. Five of them addressed issues surrounding Palermo's prime target, Raiford Reynolds. Those closest to Ray, some who received letters and others who did not, met at his house with all the families before they read the letters because written across the back was the same request—Open together in the presence of Raiford Reynolds.

  Everyone with a letter addressed to them, held up an envelope. Ray gave a half-frown. "Who goes first?"

  After a long pause, Brian Baker said, "I will."

  He read his letter:

  Dear Chief Baker,

  Well, you finally have the title you deserve, perhaps, due in part to my actions, though I realize now I went about it the wrong way. You're a good cop. All those years ago, you were doing your job, and you did it well. You became a target simply because you were Raiford Reynolds's friend. That fact alone always bothered me. I mean, you were always in his shadow. I'm surprised you didn't resent him. I would have.

  Nonetheless, I wish to extend a true apology. I deeply regret any harm I caused you. Yes, I rigged the explosion with your car. Of course, the ticket was not my doing. You were supposed to be in the car when you turned on the wipers. You would be dead, if you hadn't parked illegally. I'm glad you're alive and finally in a position you've long deserved. I wish you the best of luck.

  Lloyd Palermo

  The next letter was addressed to Deanna Blackwell:

  Dear Mrs. Blackwell,

  The expression on your face in court prompted me to write to you. First, Kyle is a good kid. You should be proud of him. His heart is not dark, unlike mine.

  Second, don't hate Robert. He was a good man, too—the best I ever knew. He just had a secret. Believe it or not, he did love you in his own mixed-up way. Rest assured he did not in any way hurt Kyle. His distance was to keep from hurting him. By now, Kyle knows all the details. He can explain it to you. Perhaps, if Robert had not been murdered, he could've swayed me from my course. My love for him already changed the plan I originally had for him. It's ironic that both of us were willing to let Robert have or do whatever he needed to be happy and never divulged what we knew about him, no matter how much we hurt. I really did love him, and so did you.

  I am sincerely sorry I caused you sadness. You are truly First-Lady material. Hold your head high with pride.

  Lloyd Palermo

  "Who's next?" asked Ray, holding up his own letter.

  "I'll go," said Neely. Shakily, she opened her letter:

  Dear Mrs. Gautier,

  They say, "Mother knows best." Perhaps, it should be, "Grandmomma knows best." My grandmother had no idea what I was up to, but she sensed something. That was her gift—a sixth sense. She warned me not to harm the rose tattoo. Funny thing is—I didn't know you had a rose tattoo. No, you were simply an easy mark. You are far too open and accepting—a free and gentle spirit.

  Even the brutality you suffered hasn't changed you. Look at the forgiveness you've extended Kyle. I'm glad because he's a great kid. I know you're the one who removed his tattoo. That's good, too. He needs to start over, as do you.

  Your choice of a life mate at first baffled me, but, then, I looked into him. It is said, "Birds of a feather flock together." His spirit is as gentle as yours. You belong together. Ironic, isn't it! If it had not been for me, you would still be alone.

  Nonetheless, I am sorry you were hurt. Maybe you can find it inside yourself to one day forgive me. You have the capacity to do so. Therefore, I will believe. May you bloom as beautifully as the rose tattoo!

  Lloyd Palermo

  "His grandmother told me to believe in miracles, too. I'm having one. I have three more upstairs and one sitting beside me." Neely took Raif's hand. "Your turn."

  "All right. I guess you're last, Ray, although that was probably his intention. I have a feeling he knew we would follow his instructions for these readings. Whew!" He puffed out his lips. "Here goes." Raif opened his letter and read:

  Dear Mr. Gautier,

  What a blessed man you are! You should've died at the hand of my mother, but you were her biggest mistake. Grandmomma also warned her not to use a twin. Court records showed she thought that meant a Gemini, but you're a Capricorn. You've had a Hand guiding you forever. Who am I to usurp that Authority? Yet, I tried.

  I regretted killing your wife. She was exquisite and formidable. Her death was meant to make your brother suffer. You were to follow her; however, the more I watched you and the more I saw you handle w
hatever was thrown at you, the more I admired you. In all the years I planned my revenge, many wanted to kill your brother, but not you. Does anyone hate you? I have never found one. I have found a few who resent you for having a black son-in-law. Deep-rooted prejudices die hard.

  I'm sorry to cheat you of the satisfaction of seeing your pain end. Nevertheless, you have nothing to fear from me anymore. I hope your life with the beautiful Rose Tattoo is thorn-free. You deserve it. You have endured as heroically as Job. You are a man of true faith. Remember that God restored Job, plus much more. May your fate be the same!

  Lloyd Palermo

  "A broken and contrite spirit," whispered Raif. "This is much better than a jury conviction and death sentence."

  Ray asked, "Raif, are you all right? How can this be better?"

  "He was penitent, Ray. Maybe, just maybe, in those final seconds he was forgiven."

  Kyle and Raif made eye contact. Kyle gave a slight nod, and Raif smiled at him.

  Ray shook his head. "You truly do have the capacity to forgive even him."

  "Don't you, Ray?" Raif said with wide blue eyes. "When I pray, 'Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,' I mean it. I'm asking God to forgive me the same way I forgive others. If I can't forgive, how can I expect to be forgiven? My sin, as much as Lloyd's, pounded those nails through the hands of Christ. I pray that he prayed to be forgiven." Indicating with his own folded piece of mail, Raif said, "Read your letter, so this nightmare can be over."

  Sufficiently chastised, Ray opened his letter:

  Reynolds,

  How I have hated you! You were the single most responsible person for my misery, or so I thought. Thank your brother. Thank your sister-in-law. Thank your future son-in-law. I don't hate you anymore. I envy you.

  You have everything I ever wanted. Your family loves you—your parents, your wife, your brother, your kids.

  Your parents—Mine were stolen from me. I never knew who my father was, and as imperfect as she was, my mother loved me until she was gone. I blamed you for that. I know now that she brought her judgment on herself, just as I have.