Broken by Janet Taylor-Perry Read Free Book Online Page B

last. It was supposed to have served some purpose." She scooped food onto her Styrofoam plate.
    "Maybe it's because you were able to provide some identification," Amile said. "Could be they're keeping a low profile."
    "This isn't fact, but just my intuition," Neely explained.
    "That's scary, Neely," Amile said, handing Colleen a plate. "I guess I can see where you're coming from."
    "You have to admit that the FBI agent being killed before he could come back and see me was more than strange."
    "That is was, chile," observed Colleen. "You know, there was another FBI agent killed in Baton Rouge a few months back, and a cop in Eau Boueuse before that. All killed the same way. It's as spooky as when all them women, thirteen if I recall, were killed in Eau Boueuse twenty years now."
    Amile nodded. "Yeah, some crazy woman trying to summon a demon with virgin sacrifices." He shook his head. "Lots of nut jobs in this world."
    "Thirteen? Agent Journey told me I was the thirteenth." She shivered.
    Colleen put her hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "You okay, sweet girl?"
    "Yeah. It's just I don't remember much about that time. I was just a kid," confessed Neely. Her brow creased and gooseflesh covered her skin. Eau Boueuse brought back the fleeting thought of Raiford Gautier. She gave a soft grunt. Nobody will want me now—especially not someone like him. She shook off her melancholy and broke the head off a crawfish with unnecessary force.
     

    As the three friends sat around the low table enjoying the food Amile had brought, the bell on Neely's door jingled. An attractive young man entered. He had eyes that reminded Neely of a nearly forgotten fantasy.
    "May I help you?" she asked as she washed her hands in the sink behind the counter.
    The young man replied, "Yes, I'd like to get a Celtic cross on my shoulder blade. Is Neely here?"
    "I'm Neely."
    "My dad told me to ask for you if I really had to get a tattoo."
    "Who's your dad?"
    "Raiford Gautier."
    The young woman almost dropped the bar of soap she had at the mention of the name. I just thought about him. "Really?" she said aloud.
    "Yes. He got a couple of tattoos here."
    "I remember." Neely's mind wandered back and she smiled at the memory and then swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. "How are he and his brother?"
    "Dad's hanging in there. He's had a rough time since Mom died."
    "Your mother…died?" Neely felt distressed at the fact that Raif was suffering. She could feel her heart pounding and a knot developing in her stomach. Stop it, you ninny. He only remembers you are a great tattooist.
    "Yes, she was murdered." The young man's words brought Neely back to the moment.
    "I'm so sorry. Please, tell your dad my prayers are with him," she said.
    "Thanks. I will"
    "Was your mother the detective from Eau Boueuse?"
    "Yes. Why?"
    "We"—She dipped her head toward her friends—"were just discussing the whole situation with all these cops being shot. It's strange. Raif must be devastated."
    "Dad's not the type to stay broken. He's overcome a lot of adversity. He just needs time. As for Uncle Ray"—The boy shrugged with a hint of smart-aleck attitude—"he's his normal self."
    "What's your name?"
    "Patrick. You are open for business, right? I came a few weeks ago, and you were closed."
    "Yes, I'm open. We were just having some lunch. Patrick, let me introduce Colleen and Amile."
    "Nice to meet you," said Patrick.
    Colleen and Amile acknowledged the introduction. Amile asked, "Are you hungry? There's plenty."
    "It smells delicious."
    "It is. It came from my café next door."
    "Maybe a friend and I can come for dinner sometime."
    "Please do. Neely, I'll take everything back to the café now. If you want something later, drop in."
    Colleen and Amile left Neely to work. "I'm glad you're open," Patrick said.
    "I had a little trouble and had to have the place redone, but I'm open."
    "Good, because if you hadn't been, I would've given up."
    "Why do you want a Celtic cross?"
    "I