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Xavier swallowed again. “And then a man came into the room. He was white, too. He had dark hair and a scar on his face.” He traced a finger from his eye down the center of his cheek. “They were fighting, and he hit her. And hit her again. Then he put his hands around her throat...” His breathing quickened, and Gabe’s quickened right along with him. “He ran then and left her there. Lying on the bed. Not moving. I was... little. And scared. Too scared to say anything or do anything to stop it.”
“You were little more than a baby,” Gabe said, hoping it was the right thing. “You were traumatized. Your mother had just died, and you were clinging to life on a roof. No one would have ever expected you to do anything.”
Cicely’s smile was shaky. “Except to tell Rocky Hebert,” she said, her pride obvious.
Gabe exhaled, understanding dawning. “You told my father what you’d seen.”
“Yes, sir. He didn’t believe me at first. He tried to calm me down. Told me that everything would be okay, but it wasn’t. I knew what I’d seen.” More tears leaked from Xavier’s dark eyes, and he wiped at them angrily. “He asked me about my mother, but she was under the water. I told him that. Then I told him that the lady next door was on the bed. She had a dog, a big, fancy dog with long hair and long ears. I’d see her walking it. The dog’s name was Fluffy. I didn’t know the lady’s name. I just called her Miss Fluffy, and she’d always laugh.”
“And then you saw her die, too,” Gabe whispered. “Oh, Xavier. I’m so sorry.”
Xavier waved the air, like none of it mattered. But it did. This poor young man had suffered so much that night. That he’d gone on to become such a good person, volunteering and graduating salutatorian? And he was going on to med school?
“But my father must have believed you at some point,” Gabe guessed.
“He did. The neighbors told him that my mother had saved me then died, but they hadn’t seen the lady next door.” He shrugged. “Her window was next to where I was sitting on the roof. No one else had the right angle to see in. Anyway, your father finally went over to check, because I wouldn’t be quiet about it. He broke the window and climbed in. The flood was almost up to the second-story windows by this point. When he got back in the boat, he looked sad. Told me that he’d send a doctor to take care of the lady. That he was getting me to some place that was warm and dry.”
Gabe frowned, confused. “But then what happened?”
“I didn’t know, not for a long time. I never saw him again, not until I was sixteen. I was taken by social services that night. I didn’t have any relatives to call. Me and my birth mom were all alone. She was an accountant.” His smile was small and sad. “She liked numbers. She let me play with her calculator sometimes. I don’t remember that much about her. Just her hands tapping calculator keys. And reaching out of the water that last day.”
Carlos covered his mouth, choking on a sob. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Xavier turned to him. “I didn’t want to remember it. Took me years before I even told Mom and Dad.”
“We were foster parents,” Cicely said, taking up the tale. “So many of the kids were taken from New Orleans to Houston, and we ended up blessed with Xavier, although he didn’t go by that name then.”
“My mother named me Angel,” Xavier said. “That’s the name I told your dad that night.”
That checked out. The name on Xavier’s birth certificate had been Angel Xavier Morrow.
“Which made it hard for him to find Xavier later.” Cicely shook her head. “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. We fostered Xavier, then adopted him. Got him an amended birth certificate, which is standard practice for adoptions. His original birth certificate has been sealed. We know his mother’s name was Monique Johnson because her body was later recovered, but Xavier didn’t remember much then. He was... troubled. Nightmares and such. Terrible nightmares.”
Gabe shuddered. He couldn’t even imagine.
“I guess so,” Molly murmured. “Did you tell anyone else about the woman you’d seen, Xavier?”
“He tried to,” Cicely answered. “He told us—me and my husband. He told his therapist, but she believed it was trauma from seeing his mother die. When they’d recovered his mother’s body, we paid to have her cremated. Her ashes are in my husband’s study, but we paid for a marker in the cemetery so that Xavier could lay flowers on her grave.”
“Where is your husband?” Molly asked, even though she already knew. Gabe figured that she was checking out Cicely Morrow’s story.
“My husband is deceased.”
Which was also consistent with what they’d found that morning.
“So you went to school and started over with a new family until my father reconnected with you years later?” Gabe asked.
“Basically, yes. It wasn’t quite that smooth.” Xavier aimed an apologetic look at his mother. “I was not the easiest kid.”
“You were our kid,” Cicely said fervently. “And we loved you from the day we met you. Your daddy was so proud of you.”
Xavier’s throat worked and he opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“He was a little turd sometimes, though,” Carlos chimed in. “Started fights in school. That’s how we met.”
Xavier wiped his eyes and pretended to glare. “I didn’t pick that fight. You did.”
Carlos grinned. “Yeah, you’re right. That was me. I picked the fight and you ended it with one punch. We were in the first grade. I had to go to the nurse for a nosebleed, and Xavier was in the office getting detention, but we both had to see the principal, because zero tolerance and all that shit. By the time we made it through the first detention, we were best friends.”
