some others."
Lawrence raised blond brows.
Ray laughed. "I'll rack my brain, but I thought that was
Chris's and Baker's job. I'm a paper pusher."
"Right!" Dantzler laughed. "The only way you're gonna be
behind that desk on this case is if you're tied."
"You know it, Lawrence. So, let's do some brainstorming.
Robert was once a prosecutor and one of the other vics was a
judge. Too, one was a DHS worker. Did they ever work with
Rob? We could be looking at some sort of domestic violence
issue here. Was the couple connected with the court system?
Child advocates? Foster parents? Defense attorneys?"
Dantzler nodded. "They used to be foster parents. There
was some question about their disciplinary actions. They lost
their certification."
"Well, then, Chris, snag your partner and find a connection
among the four incidents," Ray said. "I'm sure there is one, just
not the ones Lawrence's little morons have come up with.
Where's Steve Journey when you need him?"
Dantzler sighed. "Working a serial rapist case in Las
Vegas—showgirls. I asked for him, but no go."
"It was rhetorical." Ray rolled his eyes. "But he is the best profiler. However, none of us needs a profiler to tell us these
murders are personal."
"Yes, boss, you're right. I guess Senator LaFontaine might
not have warranted the best. Showgirls are prettier," Chris said
teasingly.
"Bullshit," said Ray. "He's got you. You're the best."
"Thanks." She sighed. "And Robert was good to look at if
you didn't scratch below the surface."
"Does Raif know you think that?" asked Lawrence. "Maybe
he killed him because you looked at another man."
Chris hit her former boyfriend in the arm. "No, but he
might kill you. Or I might. Your little tease about our old
association almost cost me the man I love."
"Sorry. You do realize I thought he was Ray."
"Yeah, yeah." She turned back to her boss. "You know,
investigating these vics means you have to pay me to go out of
town."
"So, go already. Stop to pack first so you can see Raif's
surprise." Ray pretended to yawn behind his hand.
"I don't trust the two of you." Chris knitted her brows
together. "You're acting like naughty teenagers."
Ray grinned. "We were naughty. Raif has a terrible
hangover."
"My husband has a hangover? What did you do to him?"
Chris clamped her teeth together loudly enough to be heard.
"I didn't drink his hurricanes for him," Ray said. "I drank
my own, thank you. Maybe I should've had a few more. That
way I wouldn't care about being considered a suspect.
Lawrence, would you be so kind as to go help my detectives?
Find out who killed Robert LaFontaine and the others. You're a
scary bastard. I don't like being on your hit list. You know you
have a list of the most unlikely suspects."
7
Father
Raiford Reynolds walked into his house to the scintillating
aroma of tomato sauce, basil, oregano, and garlic. His mouth
watered as he anticipated Larkin's spaghetti and meatballs or
lasagna. Then, he saw her lying on the couch with a washcloth
on her face. He sat down and began to massage her feet.
"What's wrong, Angel?" he asked.
Larkin removed the washcloth from her eyes. "I just don't
feel well," she moaned. "I'm nauseous. Christopher and
Courtney are making dinner."
"This should be interesting. Who's gonna clean up the
mess?"
"They are." She put the cloth back over her eyes. "By the
way, Courtney's mad at you. You didn't eat any cake yet. She
refuses to let us cut it until you see it. If you don't hurry, we'll
be growing penicillin."
Ray laughed. "Well, let me check out the budding chefs
and apologize to my daughter."
"It's really a cute cake, Ray. Eat some and take the rest to
the station. Share, please."
He stood. "I really needed this tonight. I need my family. I
need to be a father. I can't tell you how much I love you."
"You can come back and rub my feet."
"Will do." Ray kissed Larkin gently before he went into the
kitchen.
♥♥♥
Courtney turned around from making garlic bread as Ray
entered the
Lawrence raised blond brows.
Ray laughed. "I'll rack my brain, but I thought that was
Chris's and Baker's job. I'm a paper pusher."
"Right!" Dantzler laughed. "The only way you're gonna be
behind that desk on this case is if you're tied."
"You know it, Lawrence. So, let's do some brainstorming.
Robert was once a prosecutor and one of the other vics was a
judge. Too, one was a DHS worker. Did they ever work with
Rob? We could be looking at some sort of domestic violence
issue here. Was the couple connected with the court system?
Child advocates? Foster parents? Defense attorneys?"
Dantzler nodded. "They used to be foster parents. There
was some question about their disciplinary actions. They lost
their certification."
"Well, then, Chris, snag your partner and find a connection
among the four incidents," Ray said. "I'm sure there is one, just
not the ones Lawrence's little morons have come up with.
Where's Steve Journey when you need him?"
Dantzler sighed. "Working a serial rapist case in Las
Vegas—showgirls. I asked for him, but no go."
"It was rhetorical." Ray rolled his eyes. "But he is the best profiler. However, none of us needs a profiler to tell us these
murders are personal."
"Yes, boss, you're right. I guess Senator LaFontaine might
not have warranted the best. Showgirls are prettier," Chris said
teasingly.
"Bullshit," said Ray. "He's got you. You're the best."
"Thanks." She sighed. "And Robert was good to look at if
you didn't scratch below the surface."
"Does Raif know you think that?" asked Lawrence. "Maybe
he killed him because you looked at another man."
Chris hit her former boyfriend in the arm. "No, but he
might kill you. Or I might. Your little tease about our old
association almost cost me the man I love."
"Sorry. You do realize I thought he was Ray."
"Yeah, yeah." She turned back to her boss. "You know,
investigating these vics means you have to pay me to go out of
town."
"So, go already. Stop to pack first so you can see Raif's
surprise." Ray pretended to yawn behind his hand.
"I don't trust the two of you." Chris knitted her brows
together. "You're acting like naughty teenagers."
Ray grinned. "We were naughty. Raif has a terrible
hangover."
"My husband has a hangover? What did you do to him?"
Chris clamped her teeth together loudly enough to be heard.
"I didn't drink his hurricanes for him," Ray said. "I drank
my own, thank you. Maybe I should've had a few more. That
way I wouldn't care about being considered a suspect.
Lawrence, would you be so kind as to go help my detectives?
Find out who killed Robert LaFontaine and the others. You're a
scary bastard. I don't like being on your hit list. You know you
have a list of the most unlikely suspects."
7
Father
Raiford Reynolds walked into his house to the scintillating
aroma of tomato sauce, basil, oregano, and garlic. His mouth
watered as he anticipated Larkin's spaghetti and meatballs or
lasagna. Then, he saw her lying on the couch with a washcloth
on her face. He sat down and began to massage her feet.
"What's wrong, Angel?" he asked.
Larkin removed the washcloth from her eyes. "I just don't
feel well," she moaned. "I'm nauseous. Christopher and
Courtney are making dinner."
"This should be interesting. Who's gonna clean up the
mess?"
"They are." She put the cloth back over her eyes. "By the
way, Courtney's mad at you. You didn't eat any cake yet. She
refuses to let us cut it until you see it. If you don't hurry, we'll
be growing penicillin."
Ray laughed. "Well, let me check out the budding chefs
and apologize to my daughter."
"It's really a cute cake, Ray. Eat some and take the rest to
the station. Share, please."
He stood. "I really needed this tonight. I need my family. I
need to be a father. I can't tell you how much I love you."
"You can come back and rub my feet."
"Will do." Ray kissed Larkin gently before he went into the
kitchen.
♥♥♥
Courtney turned around from making garlic bread as Ray
entered the
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