Broken (17 page)

After dinner, Christopher hit the video games and Courtney hit up her mother. "Momma, you've been doing all kinds of things with Cherie since we got here. I have an idea. Why don't all of us ladies, Meemaw included, go get our nails done? Papaw can babysit Christopher and Ashton for a couple of hours. Maybe we could even go to a chick flick together."

"What are you up to?" asked Larkin, instantly suspicious.

"Nothing. I'm just a little jealous of my baby sister. Please, Momma?"

"Sheena, what do you think?" asked Larkin.

"Why not? It could be girls' night out. Another time Papaw and Christopher can do something, like a round of golf, and if they want to do something so they can take a baby boy with them—okay."

"Dorothy?" asked Larkin.

"She's a sneaky little dickens, Larkin, but I would enjoy the time. I recall the spring break when she and Christopher instigated the deep-sea fishing expedition when Parker first arrived." She puckered her lips. "It turned out all right. Albert, don't let Christopher out of your sight."

"He's on the video game. He usually spends hours there," Albert Reynolds said defensively.

"That's true," said Larkin. "I hope he wouldn't try to pull something on his grandfather. Of course, he
is
Ray's son."

Albert held up a finger. "Now, you're scaring me," he joked. "Especially since the pot is calling the kettle black there. Who was it that sneaked back to Eau Boueuse to help Ray a few years back—and when she was pregnant with my little sweetie?"

Albert held his arms out to Cherie who gave her grandfather a big hug.

Larkin laughed. "Guilty."

"Go, ladies. Have some fun. If I need you, I'll call."

Cherie was excited to have her nails done like her momma's. Courtney watched her little sister and felt guilty that she had used her as an excuse. She knew that by now Ashton was asleep in his crib at Meemaw and Papaw's, and Papaw was asleep in his chair. Christopher should be at the beach. "Boy, you owe me," she mumbled under her breath.

After their nails were done, the ladies picked out the newest animated Disney movie. Courtney sat beside her mother, and her conscience nagged her relentlessly.

Christopher crept behind the shrubbery, watching the officers at their cars warily, and then dashed down the driveway and across the highway.
At least two of them followed Momma.
The beach party half a mile down the beach was in full swing.

Christopher spotted Kimberly near the bonfire and made his way to her. "Hey!" she said when she saw him. "You made it."

"Yeah. I wanted to hang out with you."

"Really? Just me? There were a lot of girls around you today."

"I didn't get anybody else's phone number, did I?

"Did you?"

"No."

Kim slipped her hand into Christopher's. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "We have hotdogs."

"No, I had dinner already. My grandmother makes the best fettuccini Alfredo."

"Yum. That's better than hotdogs."

"Yeah."

"Do you want a beer or a Coke?"

"What are you having?"

"Coke. I don't like beer."

"Then, I'll have Coke."

Kim got Christopher a Coke. "Do you want to take a walk?" she asked innocently.

"Yeah. It's hard to talk over all the noise." Christopher took Kim's hand, and they walked down the beach. They chatted and caught up on each other's lives over the last six years, since her father's murder.

"So? Where are you going to college next year?" Kim asked.

"LSU. Is there anywhere else?"

Kim laughed. "Are you gonna join our fathers' fraternity?"

"Probably. I am, after all, a legacy. Are y'all still in Baton Rouge?"

"Yeah. Mom married Saul Blackwell."

"I remember. Momma and Daddy went to the wedding, but left us at home since they got married on a school night."

"That's right." She laughed a little. "He's a good guy, but Kyle hates him. He and Mom have a little boy, Tate. Kyle hates him, too, but he's my little sweetheart. That's why they kinda got married fast. I'm not sure Kyle realizes it, but I can count months. Kyle hates everybody nowadays."

"I'm sorry. Does he hate you?"

"No, but he tries to control my life. I hate his friends. He makes Mom cry all the time."

Christopher scowled. "Would you like me to talk to him?"

"Thanks, but it would only make him meaner."

"Is he at the party?"

"I didn't see him. I hope he doesn't show up. I'm having a good time. I'd like to keep it that way."

"Well, we're really not at the party, are we? Would you like to sit on the pier?"

"Yeah. We've walked a long way."

"Do you wanna go back?" Christopher made a half turn.

"Not yet."

They sat on the side of the pier and dangled their feet over the edge. Christopher asked, "Do you think we could get together next year after I get to LSU?"

"I'd like that. I'm sure Mom wouldn't mind. You're Raiford Reynolds's son."

"Yeah," sighed Christopher with a grimace, guilt niggling at his conscience. "You know, we're in protective custody right now because of the police officers being killed. I sneaked out to come and see you tonight. My dad is gonna skin me, if Momma doesn't beat him to it."

"Your dad is just worried about you. You should be glad. My dad never cared."

"He should have. You're pretty awesome."

"Maybe if he had," said Kim softly, "Kyle wouldn't be in so much pain now. He paid even less attention to Kyle than he did me."

"That's sad, but you could be right."

Kim looked up at Christopher. She had her father's soft blue eyes but her mother's dark hair. Christopher leaned in to kiss her, and she responded.

Somewhere near them a gruff voice said, "Kimberly LaFontaine, what the hell are you doing?"

"Oh, God!" sighed Kim. "Kyle, go away."

The temperature seemed to drop instantly.

Kyle LaFontaine walked up and glared at Christopher. "Who the hell are you?" he asked angrily.

"Hello, Kyle. Christopher Reynolds."

"Oh!" Kyle laughed sinisterly. "You made this too damned easy."

"What are you talking about?"

Kyle and four other teenage boys got close enough for Christopher to see their faces. "Of course," said Kyle, "you weren't supposed to know us."

"Oh, my God!" exclaimed Christopher as he took in the appearance of the five boys. All wore swim trunks and either tank tops or open Hawaiian shirts. Each had shaved heads, and Kyle had a grotesque black-and-red double-headed serpent tattooed on his chest.

"What's the matter?" asked Kyle. "Scared?"

"Not hardly." Christopher squeezed Kimberly's hand. "Kim, get away from here."

"Why?"

"You're not safe."

"I'm not gonna hurt my sister," snapped Kyle.

"No, just me," said Christopher calmly. "But do you think she's gonna sit here and let it happen? Kyle, I wanna ask you something, and I don't want her to hear it."

"You're really not scared, are you, Reynolds?"

"No."

"Kim, take off," ordered Kyle.

"No. I'm not gonna let you and your
slugs
hurt Christopher. There are five of you."

Kyle snarled, "Kim, take off!"

"What part of no did you not understand, the N or the O? I'm not leaving."

"Beasley, get her out of here," ordered Kyle. One of his cohorts started toward Kim.

"Touch me. I dare you." Kim held up a can of pepper spray that was attached to her keychain. She stood and aimed for the boy's face.

"Man, this is getting out of hand. That asshole doesn't have to know we failed," said the one called Beasley.

"Kyle, you forced me into this," Christopher said, shaking his head and looking at the water. "Did you five skin-heads beat, rape, and leave Neely Rivers for dead?" He stood beside Kim.

"Who is Neely Rivers?" asked Kyle.

"She owned a tattoo parlor in New Orleans."

Kyle took a step back. "Everybody, leave!" he commanded. "Go!"

After the other four boys walked away, Kyle asked, "What do you know about that?"

"The victim lived and identified your tattoo."
That's why I had the creepy feeling when Kim told me you got a tat like your dad's.
He pointed to the other boy's chest. "The other twelve women died."

"Kim, I wish you'd leave," Kyle mumbled.

"Not a snowball's chance in Hell." She put one hand on her hip.

Kyle gave his twin a desperate look.

She shook her head firmly and puckered her lips. "This is worse than I dreamed. God! Kyle, talk to me."

He huffed. "I don't know anything about any other twelve women. That was my first job." He pointed toward where his friends had walked. "They weren't even there. I didn't kill the woman although I was supposed to. A cop named Lloyd gave us money to do it. He also gave us money tonight to find you and beat you to a pulp." He shook his head. "I can't do that to the guy that was kissing my
sister
."

Kim snorted. "Warped, Kyle. Warped," she muttered.

"Kyle, you have no idea what you're really mixed up in, do you?" Christopher said.

"Maybe you should tell me because"—He widened his eyes that looked like the early morning sky and sought matching ones—"I'm not quite the slug my sister thinks I am."

Brow furrowed, Christopher said, "Kyle, this Lloyd guy has killed
five
law enforcement officers, my aunt included. Obviously, my dad was right. He was behind the art thefts and twelve dead women. He's Latrice Descartes's son."

"L…Latrice? That crazy woman my dad talked about?" He put a hand to his lips and mumbled through his fingers. "The one that tried to summon a demon?"

Christopher nodded and Courtney put clenched fists to her mouth, eyes wide with fear.

The look on Kyle's face was thinly veiled terror. He started rubbing his tattoo as if trying to get it off. "Oh, God! What have I done?" He sank to the sand and sobbed, "What…Have…I…Done?"

The temperature moderated to the balmy coastal spring night.

Kim and Christopher went to Kyle. "Kyle," Christopher said, "come with me to my grandparents' house. My dad can fix this."

"I'll go to jail. That'll kill my mom."

"Trust me, Kyle. My dad'll help. He's your
godfather
, after all. This man wants to kill him, too. Are you sure he was a cop?"

"Yeah, a state trooper."

"Please, go with Christopher, Kyle," begged Kim. "I'll go with you."

Christopher reiterated, "Please, Kyle. You can save lives now. You have to help."

Kyle nodded. The three teenagers headed back to the Reynolds's beach home.