Midnight Caller (16 page)

“I
can do it.” Haley looked determined as she attempted to toss the green salad with two wooden paddles.

“I don't know,” Trevor said. “That's a pretty big salad.”

The bowl was nearly as large as the child. Haley stood on a chair next to the dining room table so she was better positioned for the task. Her tongue darted out from the corner of her mouth in concentration, and Trevor braced his hand against her back so she didn't topple over.

“Great job, sweetie,” Brian exclaimed as, job finally completed, she climbed down to the floor. Smiling, she scampered into the kitchen where Alex and Annabelle were preparing the rest of the meal.

“I think there's more salad on the table than in the bowl,” Trevor commented once Haley was out of earshot.

Brian scooped up the errant vegetables. “She likes to help. Thank God the table's clean and we're all family.”

Over the Latin rhythm coming from a set of wall-mounted speakers, Trevor could hear Annabelle pressing Alex for his paella recipe. His sister's laughter rose musically to the loft's exposed-beam ceiling. He had an empty feeling inside his chest.
This is the part of life I've missed out on.

Brian handed him a bottled water, interrupting his thoughts. “I've been meaning to ask. What do you think of Alex?”

“I like him,” he answered truthfully. He twisted the cap from the bottle. “You seem good together.”

“We are. I owe him a lot.”

Trevor looked at him for several seconds. “You're really okay this time, aren't you?”

“I'm not going to screw up again, Trev.”

He thought of the night he'd taken Brian to the facility in Baton Rouge. He'd returned home at Annabelle's urging to try to talk some sense into his brother. After a day spent looking, he'd found Brian at a friend's apartment, passed out with a needle still stuck in his forearm. Trevor had hauled him into a cold shower, terrified by his recklessness. Then he'd physically forced him into the car and driven straight out of New Orleans. He cringed inwardly at the brutal statements they'd exchanged.

“What I said the night I put you in rehab,” he began uncertainly, searching for the right words. “It's no excuse, but my anger got the best of me. I couldn't stand…seeing what you were doing to yourself. You're a talented person, Brian. You were throwing it all away.”

“We both said things we didn't mean that night.” Brian sounded sincere. “I'm not that person anymore. I hope you can believe me.”

By all appearances it was true. In the space of time since Trevor had last seen Brian, he'd somehow managed to turn himself around. If Alex was to thank for that, then he was eternally grateful to him.

“Do you want to tell me what happened at Riverfront Park yesterday?” Brian asked. Trevor rubbed his neck. As far as he was concerned, the subject was closed.

“I know what I saw.” He glanced toward the kitchen to make sure Annabelle and Alex were still occupied. “He was
there, watching us. It was the same guy who tried to knife me at the Ascension.”

“I didn't see anyone,” Brian insisted. “That courtyard only had one way in and out—”

“You think I'm seeing things?”

“I think you're under a lot of stress. You said as much yourself. This crazy vampire case you're working, combined with coming back here and seeing Dad again. Maybe it's too much.”

Trevor left the bottled water on the table and went to stare out the loft's floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun was setting over the rooftops of the buildings, and in the distance he could see tugboats and steamers as they floated on the Mississippi like ghost ships.

“You've stayed away from here for so long.” Brian's reflection appeared in the glass as he stood behind him. “Maybe you're on some kind of sensory overload.”

Trevor continued looking out at the panoramic view. “I had a suspect tell me this morning he knew what Dad did to me.”

Brian walked up to the window. “How's that even possible?”

He shrugged. He'd been searching for that answer himself. “Maybe he paid off someone in the records room at the NOPD. This guy is some kind of elder in the goth community. Creepy as hell. However he found out, he was obviously trying to rattle me, and it worked.”

“That makes no sense. The police records don't say a damn thing about what really happened that day. You know that.”

Trevor merely nodded. It was difficult to be around Brian or Annabelle without his mind hurtling back to the shadowed events that had pulled them apart. Even now, he struggled with the decisions he'd made, and their subsequent impact.

“I left you and Annabelle alone,” he admitted, finally ready to broach the topic. “But I just couldn't come back here.”

Brian's gaze was steadfast. “You didn't have a choice. You were in no condition—”

“I got
better,
Brian. If I'd been here, maybe I could've—”

“What could you have done? Kept me from using? You did come here, and you tried. Several times, in fact. I threw it in your face.”

He swallowed a sigh, but his brother wasn't finished. Brian lowered his tone.

“What about Annabelle? Think you could've kept her from slicing her wrists? Or stopped Mom from having that last drink and taking a header down the stairs?”

Trevor closed his eyes, the questions as familiar as his own skin. “I don't know.”

“Well, I do. You're just not that powerful, Trev,” Brian said softly. “What happened in that house messed all of us up. We've all had to face our own demons.”

Annabelle called to them over a clatter of china and silverware, announcing that dinner was about to be served, buffet style from the kitchen. From where Trevor stood, he could see Alex carrying a pot heaped with steaming seafood and rice to one of the marble-topped counters.

“All you ever tried to do was protect us. And we betrayed you for it.”

“You told the police exactly what Dad told you to. You were ten years old.”

“We let you believe a lie—”

The shrill of Trevor's cell phone cut into Brian's words. With a halfhearted curse, Trevor answered it.

“When?” He clapped a hand over his ear in order to hear the caller above the music and conversation spilling from the kitchen. The words coming through the phone made his heart pound. “Is she okay?”

He asked a few more questions and disconnected the call. “Tell Alex I'm sorry. I can't stay.”

“What's happened?”

“It's Rain Sommers. She was assaulted in her home. They've taken her to All Saints.”

“God! Alex and I will come, too.”

“No. Stay here. I'll call you as soon as I can.” Before Brian could ask anything else, he strode across the apartment and let himself out the door.

T
he smell of antiseptic was strong, overpowered only by the noise and rush of activity inside the E.R. Nurses in scrubs called out names and escorted patients to exam bays, and rows of chairs held people waiting for treatment. As Trevor sidestepped an orderly pushing an EKG cart, his gaze fell on a stern-looking African-American woman behind the admissions desk. She was trying to obtain information from a man wearing bib overalls and speaking in a frantic Cajun patois.

Trevor went up to the desk. “I'm looking for a woman brought in earlier—”

The nurse held up a hand, the gesture making it clear she expected him to wait. Her eyes remained on the flustered Cajun. “Sir, I can't understand a thing coming out of your mouth.”

Frustrated, Trevor slammed his shield onto the counter. “Rain Sommers. Early thirties, assault victim. Where is she?”

Giving him a wary glance, she adjusted her eyeglasses and consulted the computer screen. “Exam room eight. Follow the markers down the east corridor.”

“He's looking for someone, too. His daughter-in-law.” Trevor returned the shield to his pocket as he indicated the
other man. His grandmother had used the same bayou dialect that was in essence a bastardized French, and he was surprised he could still pick up enough of it to translate. “She was flown here by helicopter after a car accident in Houma. He doesn't think she had identification with her.”

“Merci.”
The man pointed to the screen and looked hopefully at the nurse.

Trevor didn't wait to see if the relative was located. He took off down the hall, scanning the windowed exam rooms as he passed.

“Agent Rivette?” A uniformed officer with graying hair and a mustache spoke to him. Trevor recognized him as one of the policemen assigned to keep watch in Rain's neighborhood during the day.

“What the hell happened?”

“Looked like she was on her way back from yoga class. Even talked to her before she went in the house. He must've already been inside—”

“Did it occur to you to check the house
before
letting Dr. Sommers enter?”

The officer's thick eyebrows clamped down over his eyes. “That wasn't our assignment, Agent. We're only supposed to sit outside and keep an eye out for anything unusual. Look, it was shift change and the only reason we were still out there is that I got a call from central. She's lucky we heard her scream.”

After a moment of staring at the officer, Trevor blew out a breath and redirected his anger onto himself. He'd finally gotten Rain to agree to a guard stationed inside the house, but he hadn't scheduled the first shift until that evening. He should have gotten someone over there sooner.

“The perp must've fled out the back door when he heard us coming in through the front,” the officer recounted. “We
didn't get a look at him. Units are still cruising the area, but he's probably long gone.”

“How badly is she hurt?”

“She's a little banged up, but she seems all right.” A young auburn-haired officer joined them. “We got inside before too much happened. She might've blacked out for a few seconds, so we brought her in to get checked out, just to be on the safe side.”

“Where is she?”

He pointed to an exam room at the end of the hall. “The detectives are with her now.”

Trevor walked toward the room, cold fear still balled up inside him. He was all too aware of what could have happened if the officers hadn't forced their way inside when they did. He stopped outside the door, where he could see Rain through a slit in the window's closed curtains. She sat on the thin padding of an exam table, her legs dangling over its side. He swallowed hard at the faint bruises shadowing the slim column of her throat. Trevor passed a hand over his face, trying to keep his emotions in check.

With heavy feet, he moved into the exam room. McGrath was busy lobbing questions at Rain while Thibodeaux scribbled in his ever-present notepad. She lifted her eyes to him. It was as if the composure she'd held on to throughout the ordeal began to crumble. Rain climbed down from the table and went to him, pressing her face against his chest. Trevor closed his arms around her.

“I should've known,” she whispered brokenly. “The security system didn't go off when I opened the door. I was distracted and didn't notice…”

“It's okay,” he murmured.

He met the detectives' questioning glances over the top of her head. The room fell silent, except for Rain's muffled sobs.

 

Trevor stood outside the exam room with McGrath and Thibodeaux while an E.R. physician was inside with Rain. He worked to concentrate on what the detectives had learned so far, but the feel of her trembling in his arms had scattered him into what felt like a dozen pieces.

“All I'm saying is the attack doesn't fit the M.O.,” McGrath insisted.

“You mean things like leaving the victim alive? Yeah, I noticed that,” Thibodeaux said in his usual caustic manner. “This Dante character is probably ticked as hell the cops interrupted his plans.”

Trevor rubbed his forehead. “Was she able to give a description?”

“Caucasian male, wiry build, around five-ten. He was wearing a ski mask.” Thibodeaux held up a finger. “And wait for this one. Blood-red eyes. I shit you not.”

“Probably Halloween contacts.” Trevor had noticed a half-dozen people at the Ascension sporting the gruesome accessory. “Anything else?”

“He had a tattoo around his right forearm that looked like barbed wire,” McGrath said. “She scratched his neck pretty good, too. We took a sample from under her nails.”

Trevor stared at the closed exam-room door. He was thankful beyond words that Rain had fought her attacker and screamed for help. But something else nagged at him. He couldn't imagine that Dante would have allowed such a mistake. He'd abducted six women without leaving behind a trace. Had he just been supremely unlucky this time?

“The vic indicates her home-security system was engaged when she left earlier this afternoon,” Thibodeaux remarked, consulting his notes. “But I spoke with Forensics at the crime scene and they say the wires to the system weren't cut.”

“So the assailant knew her pass code?”

“Or she forgot to turn the system on when she left the house and doesn't want to admit it.”

“Rain wouldn't lie about that,” Trevor said. He didn't miss the look that passed between the two detectives.

There was a pause before McGrath spoke. “If you're staying here, Tibbs and I are going over to the house in the Lower Garden District.”

“I'm staying. You guys go ahead.”

Thibodeaux stuck the dog-eared notepad in the back pocket of his trousers and glanced at the exam-room window. “She's a little thing. Hard to believe she came out of this in one piece.”

His nerves shot, Trevor watched as the men disappeared down the corridor.

 

Although she didn't look up, Rain felt the weight of Trevor's stare as he entered the room.

“They're going to let me go,” she stated softly. “The doctor's working on my discharge papers.”

He moved closer, and Rain stared at her hands folded in her lap. Her body was sore, and the significance of what had happened had only begun to sink in.

“Rain…I need to know who has your house's security pass code.”

His words caused her to meet his gaze. “You don't think it's someone I know—”

“The system wasn't tampered with. We need to eliminate any possibilities.”

She blinked back the ache behind her eyes and tried to think. “There's Alex. And David. There's also a cleaning lady who comes in on Mondays.”

And Oliver.
Hadn't he used the pilfered pass code less than a week ago to gain access to her home? Rain thought of the barbed-wire tattoo that wrapped around the man's forearm.
She'd have noticed something like that on her patient, she was certain of it. Besides, the height and weight didn't come close to matching Oliver's build.

“Have you given your code to anyone else?”

Rain shook her head. She remained silent as a nurse walked in and handed Trevor several papers, including a prescription for a light sedative, before leaving again. As he helped her slide off the exam table, she was cognizant of her disheveled state. She still wore her yoga clothes, although the halter top was stretched and torn, revealing her lace-edged bra underneath. Her lip throbbed where the man had struck her.

She'd worn a gray zip-up sweatshirt over her top on the way to the hospital. The garment lay across a swivel stool in the corner of the room. Trevor retrieved it and helped her into it, touching her as if she were made of glass. Once the jacket was in place, he carefully zipped it closed. Taking her hands in his, he frowned at her once-manicured nails that were now chipped and broken.

“They took scrapings. They said I probably got his DNA.”

Trevor nodded but didn't say anything. When Rain looked into his eyes, she saw guilt reflected there.

“This isn't your fault. You warned me that I should have an officer inside—”

“That doesn't matter now. I'm taking you back to my hotel.”

Rain released a shaky breath. “I'm going to the radio station. I'm doing the show tonight.”

At first, Trevor appeared stunned into silence. Then he shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“I want to talk to that son of a bitch.”

“That's not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

He raked a hand through his hair, his blue-gray eyes as
dark and turbulent as a stormy sea. “Because he's angry, Rain. The cops messed up his plans, so he's livid right now. You'd only antagonize him by going through with the show.”

“You told me before he couldn't reach me through the airwaves—”

“No. Forget it.”

“Use me,”
she urged. “If he's angry, he might let something slip that could lead you to him.”

“You've been through too much already.”

“I want to go on the air tonight. I need him to know he didn't silence me. What do you have to lose?”

He grasped her arms. The fear in his voice surprised her. “I could lose
you.
Do you have any idea how close you came—”

His words stopped, although she knew what he'd been about to say. Rain was scared, too. But she couldn't stand by and have another female experience the helpless terror she'd felt that afternoon. Dante had to be stopped. She touched Trevor's face and willed him to understand.

“I have to do this,” she said. “Unless you plan to physically restrain me, I'm going on the air.”