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
“Hey,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.”
“Whatcha 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,” interjected 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 s
chool.”
“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 drugs could be masking your real problem and preventing you from getting the treatment you need.”
“I’ll make that appointment.” 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.
“Ray. How have you been?” she replied.
“Well, and you?”
“Great. I’m back at work where I belong.”
Even-toned, Ray asked, “Dupree is behaving?”
“Perfectly.” Larkin nodded. “He might even get the male lead in the spring musical review.”
“Well, if anybody can bring out the good in him, it’s you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is.”
Ooh! Take this! She turned back to the prosecutor and asked in a sugary voice, “Robert, did we decide seven?” Her eyes cut to Ray.
Robert gave a crooked smirk. “I’ll see you then.”
Ray flinched.
“I’m looking forward to it.” She walked away, head held high.
♣♣♣
There was a pregnant, uncomfortable pause in the room for several seconds after Larkin left. Ray shook it off.
“LaFontaine, I think we have all the proof we need.” He held up the folder triumphantly.
The prosecution had already established the fact that Latrice had access to all the female victims’ medical files while working for their doctors. Latrice’s credit card purchases included thirteen wedding dresses. The ceremonial dagger matched as the murder weapon in all the female slayings. Twelve coven members could attest to the “necessary sacrifices.” In addition, they had the botched ritual on tape, along with the tape of Ray’s meeting with Latrice, as well as Raif’s and Larkin’s testimony. Now, Ray proudly pulled out the forensic and DNA reports.
LaFontaine read, and a smile spread across his face. “Good stuff.”
The blood scrapings contained DNA from every female victim on the altar of the old monastery, which Latrice owned. The altar had an etched groove where the women’s necks had lain and the blood drained to collect in a reservoir around the base of the slab. That accounted for the lack of blood on the garments. Coven members admitted to drinking a swallow of blood for empowerment.
Hair fibers found on the wedding dresses belonged to Latrice. Blood specks on the robe Latrice had worn matched every victim. A garrote and a hand gun discovered in Latrice’s home were linked to two of the male slayings, and Latrice had frequently volunteered at the local missions and homeless shelters. The black SUV used in the hit-and-run belonged to Sabrina Hatch, one of the coven members. She had confirmed Latrice asked to borrow her car but told her to report it stolen.
“Reynolds, I think you’re a prick, but you really did your homework this time. Good job.”
“The feelings’s mutual, but let’s put that aside and lock this whacko away.”
“Agreed.”
Robert walked the detective to the elevator. Ray turned. “Larkin’s special,” he said quietly. “She’s innocent and sweet. She’s angelic. Don’t pull your philandering on her.”
“Reynolds, I don’t know what you did, or maybe it was what you didn’t do, to her, but thank you.”
A feeling of triumph coursing through his veins, Robert LaFontaine returned haughtily to his office, and Raiford Reynolds angrily kicked over the standing ashtray outside the building.
27
Criminally Insane
Thestate’s psychiatrist, the defense’s psychiatrist, and an independent psychiatrist interviewed Latrice Descartes, as well as the twelve coven members over a period of weeks before they released final reports. The general consensus regarding the women who had followed Latrice was that they were suffering the same kind of brainwashing that members of other cults, such as Jim Jones’s or Charles Manson’s followers, experienced. Additionally, the blood work came back to indicate a strong hallucinogenic combined with the hypnotic sedative Methaqualone in each one’s system. The only one who seemed to be letting go of her infatuation with Latrice and feeling remorse was Alicia Steen.
Judge LeVigne ruled, “Gullibility does not negate responsibility in the deaths of twelve women. Nobody forced you women to drink a concoction that affected your minds. You are hereby bound over for separate trials within six months. You will be notified of your court date. I want Alicia Steen evaluated further. Miss Steen, I’ll see you in the morning at nine sharp.” He banged his gavel and dismissed.
Ray whispered to Chris who sat beside him in the courtroom. “Damn it. LeVigne means well, but those comments were stupid. Notice that the defense didn’t object, but those words could be construed as bias upon appeal. My improvisation will be moot.”
Lucky Thirteen (The Raiford Chronicles Book 1) Page 19
