Lucky Thirteen (21 page)

Chris laughed at the scowl on Ray’s face. Patrick quickly got back to the discussion of importance. “Latrice manipulated all these people. Kelly Delacroix, a hostess at a local upscale restaurant was hoping for a better life. Here again, is the promise of stability, wealth, safety. Aisha Forbes worked with Kelly who apparently lured her into the fold. She figured her friend was just trying to help her.”

Ray asked, “What about that passage? Anything useful there?”

Patrick replied, “It’s like catacombs under there. We did find where steps led to a secluded parking area and all their cars, which have been impounded. One tunnel led to the cemetery, and one to the hearse bay in the mortuary.”

“That explains a lot,” said Ray.
“Like why the stakeout missed Latrice placing bodies and going and coming.”

Chris rustled through the pages of another interrogation
. “Catina Dukes is a homeless recovering addict. Latrice made her believe she was an easy way off the streets. I can see how some of these women needed what Latrice offered. I have to wonder if the woman kept any of her promises.”

“She actually did,” said Journey. “At least some of the financial stuff, a safe place to live, those things. If she hadn’t, some of them would’ve broken ranks.
I found a house she rented where several of these women were living together. In some way, I think she was trying to create a family of a sort, maybe to meet her own need.”

“
Francesca Melton was a student in Sabrina Hatch’s class,” observed Baker. “Her professor enticed her. It makes me concerned for my children’s minds. College is a time of searching for answers. This girl found the wrong answers.”

Journey nodded. “Her mind was fertile for brainwashing.”

Ray read the last file. “Alicia Steen, fifteen, is Lilah’s daughter and came to the group via her mother. She’s a child who is really messed up. I’m surprised and appalled at the same time that she wasn’t one of Latrice’s victims. Obviously, the little girl is
not
a virgin.” Ray scowled. “I want her father investigated. She has two younger sisters. If he
is
the abusive son-of-a-bitch the mother claims, he might be hurting those children.”

“I’m on it, Ray
, right now.” Baker, the only father among them, left the group.

Journey tapped the child’s folder. “She’s the only
rational one in the group.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Ray.

“When I talked to her, she said her mother made her go, and that Latrice gave them all some
potion
to drink.”

“Potion?” asked Chris.
“What the hell was in that goblet?”

Journey nodded. “I ordered a tox screen on all of them
and an analysis of the concoction.” He looked toward the door Baker had just used. “I’m glad you’re checking out the father. The kid mentioned Latrice promised
to take care of
her father.”

Most of the
women seemed to be under an unbreakable spell cast by the wicked witch of the South—Latrice Descartes. They were completely loyal to Latrice and would go to jail or die before they betrayed her.

On the other hand, Ray was convinced Latrice was totally
bonkers. Looking at the file in front of him, he read, “Latrice Descartes, forty-three, born in Germany. Her father was an army officer and was transferred a dozen times before Latrice left home and joined the military herself. She’s one of a few highly trained female Marines in covert operations. She was involved in a number of them, of which even now, the government won’t reveal details.”

He looked up. Dantzler shrugged. “I called the P
entagon. Can’t get ’em to budge, but I’d bet she’s still an operative, and that’s where her money comes from.”

“Doubt it,” argued Patrick Swift. “CIA, maybe, but I checked for a money trail and found none.”

Ray dipped his head to the side. “She’s a registered nurse, and tests show her IQ to be in the genius level, well over one-fifty. She was brought up in a very strict Catholic home with a father who appears tyrannical from documented reports. Got a number here. Let’s see what Daddy has to say. Chris, try to find Mom again.”

Ray contacted Latrice’s father in Guam
, working as a contractor on the Navy facility. He gave the detective some background information. “Her mother was a Baltic gypsy who secretly practiced black magic and introduced Latrice to her dark religion behind my back. All I know is that bitch cost me my security clearance years ago.”

“At what age
did Latrice get involved in the stuff?”

“Teens
, and she became a hellion. I divorced Edyta. Last I heard she was in Germany. Latrice joined the military as soon as she turned eighteen. I hoped it would straighten her out.”

“Reports say you were abusive, sir.”

“Define abuse. Did I whoop her? You
bet
. Lesbian, bisexual—Hell bound.” The man laughed and said, “She’s getting her just desserts and I want nothing else to do with her.” He hung up the phone without further ado.

Ray muttered, “Asshole.”

Chris glanced up from her phone conversation trying to find Latrice’s mother. “Edyta Descartes was deported not long after Latrice came to Louisiana and the State Department has no idea where she is now.” She closed her phone. “But, I do have a theory—if Edyta was of the Roma—you know, Gypsies—finding that woman will be a waste of time.”

Journey gave the detective a questioning look.

“Latrice’s dad
is an asshole,” said Ray. “No wonder she turned out like she did; couple him with a woman who was into the occult. She didn’t stand a chance.”

Comparing notes, the taskforce members realized that no matter who questioned her, Latrice was belligerent and believed herself an emissary of God who had been ordained to purify America. Each officer, local and federal, tried to break her. They shared their findings.

Latrice had served in the first Gulf War, and prior to that, had a spotty service record that said virtually nothing.

“But she’s dead certain the attacks of 9/11 were God’s warning that America had to be purified through blood sacrifice,” Journey said. “Covert operations,” he mumbled. “Something smells about that. Mostly it’s the timing.”

“Explain, Steve,” Ray said. “Timing?”

“Well, if she was involved in covert
operations—let’s assume it was the CIA pulling her strings—or was at least exploiting her madness. Anyway, the only time she would have been effective was 1984 to 1989, that is, before the fall of the Soviet Union.” Journey nodded. “Plus, the only places she could have moved through without being obvious would be Europe, both East and West, the Soviet Union or the U.S. I see no indication of language skills. Not that they don’t exist, but…probably that’s part of the blacked-out sections of her service record.” He sighed. “Anyway, for Latrice, dealing out death is natural, and of course, there’s no remorse, not then or now. She felt
called
to find the appropriate sacrifices. Called by what deity we’ll never know. But, because of her absolute conviction she’s doing something holy and righteous, she will
always
refuse to admit that she had ever
murdered
anyone. In her mind, the deaths of both the women and men were a part of the cleansing process. Latrice mumbled on several occasions, ‘Momma told me number thirteen was wrong. “Don’t use a twin,” Momma said. I thought she meant a damned Gemini.’”

Delving into her background showed she had been ritualistically sexually abused in her mother’s coven and warped religious beliefs abounded in her past
. She related many stories to Steve Journey. He said in their meeting, “The woman is a raving lunatic. First of all, she doesn’t believe the things that happened to her were abuse. She relates them as worship rituals.”

The state
’s psychiatrist, the defense’s psychiatrist, and an independent, non-partisan psychiatrist concurred with all law enforcement officials: Latrice Descartes should be ruled insane and a serious danger to society. Nonetheless, the state needed more proof than the fact the woman was delusional to commit her to a facility for the criminally insane rather than take her to trial and seek the death penalty.

26

Proof

“H
ey
,
Parks, Agent Milovich is back and your teacher came to see you with the FBI,” grunted the guard outside Dupree’s cell Monday afternoon after Halloween.

Dupree
sprang from his bunk with great excitement. “You mean Miss Sloan is here? Is that who you mean?”

“I guess it’s Miss Sloan
. It’s a little redheaded white lady.”

She’s safe!
Dupree reached under his bunk and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I’m ready. Take me to her.”

The guard escorted
Dupree to the same interrogation room where Ray and Chris had questioned him. As the door creaked open, Larkin Sloan looked up to see the boy who had put her in a struggle with life and death. This time she noted no belligerence in the young man’s face, but a certain fear that anyone could read. Dupree walked in and gushed, “Miss Sloan, I’m sorry. I’m real sorry. I had no idea you was in such danger.” He handed the folded, crumpled paper to Larkin. “I wrote what you asked for. I hope it’s good enough.”

Larkin
unfolded the paper and read silently:

Miss Sloan wanted me to write about what I’m afraid of. I told her I wasn’t afraid of nothing. That was a lie because I’m just plain scared all the time. I’m scared of being on the streets. I’m scared of ending up here in jail. I’m scared of dying before I turn twenty-five. I’m scared to see the tears in my momma’s eyes. I’m scared of being nobody. I’m scared of never having my dreams come true. I’m scared of having my dreams dry up like a raisin in the sun.

But I don’t want to be scared all the time
. I want to be like Walter Lee and rise above my circumstances. I want to be somebody, not a thug. I want to make my momma proud. I want Miss Sloan to be found so I can tell her I’m real sorry. I want to tell her that I really am afraid, but I just can’t put my finger on just what. I think I’m just plain scared. That’s all. I’m just plain scared of being scared.

Larkin looked toward Chris who stood near the window then back at Dupree who had sat down across from her. “Dupree, do you mean what you said in this piece?”

“Yes, ma’am
. And I’m real sorry. I didn’t know that man was gonna hurt you.”

“That man
didn’t
hurt me. Someone was using him and hurting him. Detective Reynolds and Agent Milovich arrested the woman who was behind all of this. Dupree, what do you know about
A Raisin in the Sun
?”

“It’s a real good story
. Walter Lee, I guess he’s my hero. He was at a real bad place, but he became a man, a real man.”

Shaking her head with her mouth agape and her eyebrows knitted together, she extended her hand in a pleading gesture
. “Why do you pretend to be stupid and bad when I can tell from this one piece of writing that you have great potential?”

“Miss Sloan, people like me either die or get a miracle
. Mostly, they die.”

With a catch in her voice, she said,
“I have a proposition for you, young man. It can be your miracle if you’ll agree.”

“What
cha want me to do?”

“I won’t press charges on you
if
you’ll come back to school, behave, and do
whatever
any of your teachers ask. I’ll tutor you and help you find your dream if you’ll cooperate. Well, Dupree?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered excitedly
. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do. And, Miss Sloan, I won’t let nobody ever hurt you neither.”

She stood
and held out her hand to seal the bargain with a handshake. To Dupree, she knew his word was his honor. Not only did he grasp Larkin’s hand, he reached across the table and engulfed her in a bear hug.

♣♣♣

Once all the coven members had been questioned, the authorities turned to witnesses. Both Raif and Larkin were scheduled to make official depositions the first Friday in November.

Robert LaFontaine, the handsome assistant prosecutor, was heading the state’s case. His eagerness to prosecute this case gleamed in his pale blue eyes. He knew this one would catapult his career in politics. Sitting in his office on the fourth floor of the Plaquemines Parish Court House, LaFontaine ran baby-smooth, well-kept hands through thin blond haired as he looked over files. He stood to his full seventy-one inches and stretched his firm hundred seventy pounds when he heard the outer office door open. Knowing the importance of the case for him, he personally planned to take Larkin’s and Raif’s statements.

Chris accompanied Raif to the prosecutor’s office for his appointment
. The agent knocked on the prosecutor’s door. “Come,” LaFontaine called.

Raif
and Chris entered a rather ostentatious office furnished completely in dark mahogany and bright brass. “My God!” the prosecutor verbalized at his first encounter with Ray Reynolds’s twin. He offered a handshake to both parties.

“You knew Ray discovered he had a twin, right?” asked the FBI agent.

“Yes, but seeing it…Well…Please sit, Mr. Gautier.”

Raif sat in the chair in front of LaFontaine’s desk and looked around the room. “Do you have another chair?”

“Excuse me?”

“I want
Agent Milovich to stay.”

“No problem.” LaFontaine got a
bright brass folding chair from a closet and opened it. “Here you go, Agent Milovich.

Raif stifled a snigger
.
About as pretentious as I’ve ever seen. What lawyer doesn’t have at least two chairs for clients or other visitors?

Chris narrowed her eyes
at him, halting the laugh. “Thanks.” She sat.

Retaking his seat
LaFontaine pulled a recorder from his drawer. “I need to record your statement.”

“Of course.”

“So, talk to me.” LaFontaine listened with minimal interruption.

Chris listened intently while Raif
explained. “During the time I was off my medication, Latrice convinced me she could help me if I would bring Larkin to her. I paid one of Larkin’s students to be my accomplice, but Larkin was able to communicate with me and got me back on my medication.”

“Why didn’t you take her with you when you went to the police?”
asked the prosecutor.

“Once I was in control of my faculties again, I became aware of the real danger. As long as Latrice thought she was getting what she wanted, Larkin was safe. I worked with my brother to gather evidence against Latrice.”

“You know, I could arrest you,” commented LaFontaine
.

“Whoa,” interject
ed Chris. “Does Mr. Gautier need a lawyer here?”

The prosecutor waved off her comment and
gave a slight headshake. He stopped the recorder. “Reynolds really should’ve held you, Mr. Gautier. And he should have brought in Latrice the second he had a suspect. He let his personal relationship get in his way.”

“Yes,”
Raif said, “you could arrest me, but what would it accomplish? Do you really think the public would support your punishing one of this woman’s intended victims? Besides, Larkin would have to testify against me, and she won’t do it.”

“Don’t be smug, Mr. Gautier,”
LaFontaine warned with a stern look.

“That’s not smugness,” Raif argued
. “That’s confidence in friendship.”

LaFontaine frowned.
“You’re sure of that, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely
. You haven’t met Larkin yet, have you, Mr. LaFontaine?”

“No
,” the lawyer answered. “She’s coming in after school.”

“Just wait
. You’ll see,” he said confidently and grinned. “She’s stubborn and would probably go to jail herself for contempt before she’d compromise her values.”

Chris slapped her hand on the prosecutor’s desk. “Mr. LaFontaine, I think you’ll find signed documents by both Chief Gerard and the mayor of Eau Bouease authorizing Detective Reynolds’s undercover operation, no matter if it was a bit unusual.
Don’t try to intimidate Mr. Gautier. He cooperated fully with law enforcement.” She stood. “And he’s said all he’s going to without representation. We’re out of here. I can’t wait for Larkin Sloan to put you in your place.”

“Agent Milovich, I’m fully aware of Mr. Gautier’s immunity and a farce of undercover work that I pray holds up. I meant no insult.” He extended his hand. “Mr. Gautier.” Raif shook the man’s hand.

Chris crinkled her nose as if smelling a foul odor and walked out.
Social-climbing slime ball. He’s worse than Brad Tisdale.

As Raif was leaving LaFontaine’s office, Larkin
came in. She greeted Raif with an affectionate embrace, as she did Chris. LaFontaine saw Raif was, without a doubt, correct in his assessment of his relationship with this woman.

♣♣♣

On the elevator ride down, Chris said to Raif. “I listened to you. You have total recall of everything that happened while you were off your meds. Most schizophrenics don’t. It’s all the proof I need. I’m convinced you need to see a neurologist. The dr
ugs could be masking your real problem and preventing you from getting the treatment you need.”

“I’ll make that appoint
ment.” He smiled. “Are you still going to hold my hand?”

She nodded and discreetly slipped her hand into his.

♣♣♣

LaFontaine sensed immediately the specialness of Larkin Sloan.

She came confidently and alone to give her statement
. LaFontaine observed her self-confidence and found her attractive. He began sympathetically. “Miss Sloan, don’t you want a friend here with you?”

Larkin smiled
. “I can do this alone, Mr. LaFontaine. I’m a big girl, and I learned to stand on my own two feet a long time ago.”

He nodded
. “Very well, then. Let’s make it a little easier. Call me Robert.”

“
Row-Bear? Are you really French?”

“Oui, Mademoiselle. Mon grand-père marié ma grand-mère pendant la Seconde Guerre Mondiale à Marseille. Il a fait partie de la résistance Française et elle a été une infirmière marine. Il a choisi de venir en Amérique avec elle quand la guerre était terminée.” (“Yes, Miss. My grandfather married my grandmother during World War II in Marseilles. He was a part of the French resistance and she was a Navy nurse. He opted to come to America with her when the war was over.”) He nodded again. “I speak fluent French, and not the Cajun variety.”

“
Très bien, Robert. Et vous devez m'appeler Larkin.” (“Very well, Robert. And you must call me Larkin.”) She flashed a smile, but had a pang of uneasiness. Her flirtation did not seem natural to her.

“Okay, Larkin
. Tell me your story, and,
please
, tell me why you aren’t pressing charges on Dupree Parks and why you would hesitate to testify against Raiford Gautier. Parks hurt you and Gautier paid him to do so and then abducted you and held you for weeks.”

“I know it might seem odd.” She smiled. “So,
I’ll answer the last part first. They were victims, too. Since Dupree has been back in my class these past four days, he has been a model student. He’s a lot brighter than anyone has ever given him credit for, and he has a talent for music.”

She sighed
, full of emotion. “Raif? He’s a sweetheart. I truly like Raif. He would never have hurt me in any way if he hadn’t been manipulated. He’ll never let himself get to that point again.”

“All right, Mother Theresa!”
Robert laughed, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Now, tell me what happened after you answer one more question. Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

“Isn’t there some
rule
against having dinner with me while this case is open?” Her right eye twitched.

Reading a bit of anger in
her face, Robert shrugged. “Rules are made to be broken. You’re fascinating, and I’d like to get to know you.”

“In that case, yes.”

“Great! Now, tell me what happened.” He pointed to his recorder and received a nod from the redhead.

Larkin told her story from
her really bad day that got worse after Dupree hit her with a book to Latrice’s being cuffed and included how she knew Latrice. She finished, “I don’t think I left anything out.”

“One thing.”
He turned off the recorder.

“What’s that?”

“Do you have feelings for Reynolds?”

She thought a moment before she replied huffily, “It wouldn’t be ethical.”
She clamped her jaw tight.

Robert
was a little confused by the remark, but he let it go, thinking he had grabbed a tiger by the tail. As she left the prosecutor’s office, Raiford Reynolds came in with a folder.

“Hello, Larkin,” Ray said awkwardly.