Midnight Caller (22 page)

A
nother day had passed, and the messages Rain had left on Trevor's cell phone had all gone unreturned.

Staring out the French doors of her office, her gaze leveled on the officer who sat in her parlor with his nose buried in the evening edition of the
Times-Picayune.
This is what being a shut-in feels like, she realized. She'd become an adult who required babysitting and was forced to rely on others for the smallest of errands—like shopping for groceries or simply walking outdoors to retrieve the mail. With the continued cancellations in her patient sessions, even the distraction of work had been mercilessly removed from her grasp.

Night was falling outside, bringing with it a thickening gray haze. Rain's thoughts dissolved as the doorbell chimed. Laying aside the paper, the officer rose from the sofa and moved to the foyer. He looked out the window before opening the door.

Rain's stomach did a small flip as Trevor entered. He spoke with the officer, but she could hear nothing of their conversation from her location. When he finally reached her office, she already stood at her desk. “I've been calling—”

“I'm sorry. I've been busy.”

“The raid on the Ascension's been all over the news. They're calling Armand Baptiste a suspect in the murders.”

Trevor slid his hands into his pockets. Up close, the rub of shadow under his eyes and stubble on his jaw told her how deeply he'd been involved in the chain of events.

“We found duplicates of the rosaries in Baptiste's office at the club,” he said. “His fingerprints were on the case they were stored inside. It's enough to implicate him.”

“But he's disappeared?”

“He's either in hiding here in New Orleans or he's on the run. Law enforcement across four states is looking for him.” His shoulders slumped under his dress shirt, and Trevor hesitated before speaking again. “We also caught the guy who attacked you. His DNA matched the scrapings from under your nails.”

Her pulse quickened. “He worked for Armand?”

“No, Rain. He worked for D'Alba.”

“I don't understand.”

He walked over to where she stood in front of the darkening window. “It was a publicity stunt. D'Alba didn't have a choice but to fess up when the junkie he hired to do the job ratted him out.”

A weight settled on her lungs that made it hard to breathe. “Why would he do something like that?”

“Because he knew Dante's connection to
Midnight Confessions
could deliver a huge amount of attention, and he wanted to up the ante. The attack on you was the perfect setup for leaking the story about Dante calling in to the show. It heightened the drama and kicked off a media cyclone.”

Rain blinked, trying to clear her head. She hadn't forgotten to set the security system when she'd gone out that day. David had given her pass code to the intruder. He'd actually paid someone to assault her, or worse. She closed her eyes, feeling ill. “Has he been charged?”

“With conspiracy to commit assault.”

She fell silent for several seconds, giving the shock waves careening through her a chance to subside. When she glanced again at Trevor, he was rubbing his fingers tiredly over his forehead. The knuckles on his right hand were red and abraded.

“Did you hit him?”

“Does it matter?” he asked sharply.

It was there. The ominous look in his eyes that reminded her of the sky graying before a storm. Rain searched his face as worry coiled inside her. “What aren't you telling me?”

He glanced away, studying the sage green of the office wall. “You should know D'Alba claims you were in on it. He said you agreed to and helped stage the attack.”

She nearly laughed in disbelief. “And you believed him?”

“No.”

But it was clear a seed of doubt, however small, had been planted. Several nights ago, Trevor had asked how she could have ever been involved with David. He'd questioned her about keeping Oliver's possession of her pass code a secret. Whatever trust she'd won from him was now tenuous, if David hadn't managed to destroy it completely.

Rain couldn't keep the defensive edge from her words. “Why on earth would I go along with a plan like that, when I wanted out of my contract?”

“D'Alba had an answer for that, too. He said he offered to release you early without financial repercussions if you went along with the scheme.”

The lie was like a slap in the face. Despite everything, it was impossible to comprehend the low David had stooped to this time. His words came back to her.
The show is my last hope. I won't let it go. I'll do whatever I have to.
“You
do
realize he knows about us?” Rain moved closer to
Trevor. She laid her palm against his chest, no longer caring if the officer in the next room witnessed the intimate gesture. “He'd say anything to come between us, not to mention try to get himself off the hook.”

“I know that, Rain.” Letting go of a breath, he gently lifted her hand from his shirt, squeezing her fingers before releasing them. But his eyes appeared distant, troubled. “Look, I've got to go. The investigation is changing. We've got police and FBI agents all over the city, looking for Baptiste. I just wanted to come by and update you on the situation.”

No,
Rain thought wildly. He'd come here to get her reaction. To gauge her face and her words for honesty. Anger tightened her throat, making her voice tremble. “Don't you want to take me in for questioning, Agent?”

“Don't do this,” he muttered, looking away.

“Of course, there's no hurry. Anytime you want to interrogate me, you know where I am. Being held like an inmate in my own home.”

“It's still not safe. If you need to go out, an officer can accompany you—”

“What I
need
is for you to not shut down on me.” Their eyes locked in the room's encroaching shadows.

“I've got to go,” Trevor repeated. He turned to leave.

“This is what you wanted, isn't it?”

The question made him pause. His image reflected back to her in the door window.

“If you can doubt me, it's easier to close me out.” Rain hugged her arms over her chest. “It's how you deal with anyone who cares about you. Brian, your sister, me. What happened to you, Trevor? This goes beyond your father. What happened that's made it so hard to trust anyone?”

He turned around, and Rain was momentarily frozen by the depth of emotion she saw on his face. Then with a defeated stance, he pivoted on his heel and walked out.

 

Rain sat on her bed, watching from the window as the night grew darker. She'd gone upstairs once Trevor's car had pulled away, not wanting the officer to see the tears in her eyes. Tucking her knees under her chin, she wrapped her arms around her legs and tried to quell the heaviness in her heart.

If David could convince the police that the attack on her was a publicity stunt in which she'd willingly participated, the charges against him would have to be dropped. But even more upsetting was the idea that Trevor would ponder her involvement. Did he actually think she had been complicit in David's scheme?

She recalled his troubled expression as he left the house. The accusation she'd hurled at him had hit its mark, causing his soul to bare itself to her for only a moment. He kept a deliberate distance from those he cared for, but why? All Rain knew was that she needed answers if she was ever to have any chance of understanding him.

Reaching a decision, she changed into jeans and sneakers. Then quietly, she went down the staircase of the old house. Rain breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the officer had moved to the kitchen. She peeped in at him through the doorway. He was devouring a sandwich as he watched an episode of
COPS
on television. His mouth full, he gave encouragement to two on-screen policemen as they chased a potbellied, shirtless man down a hill.

Tiptoeing to the back of the house, Rain hit the bypass button on the alarm system. The noise from the television drowned out its soft beep. She went out through the service entrance. It was a simple matter to open the courtyard gate and slip away unseen.

S
ynapse was closed, its doors locked and the lights in the gallery dimmed to a faint glow. A rap on the front window caused Annabelle Rivette to glance up from her paperwork. Rising from behind the desk in Alex's office, she stole a peek at Haley who was in the next room playing. Then she went cautiously down the hall and into the main exhibit space.

Although she looked different from the alluring female in Alex's photo, Annabelle recognized the petite redhead who stood outside on Julia Street. She disarmed the security system and unlocked the door.

Rain Sommers wore no makeup, and her hair was pulled into a ponytail from which coppery tendrils escaped. Her baby blue T-shirt advertised the New Orleans Jazz Festival. She gazed in surprise at Annabelle from the doorway.

“I'm sorry to bother you, but I was looking for Brian and Alex,” she explained. “I went through the lobby and tried their apartment, but no one was home. I thought maybe they were down here?”

“They're out of town on business, but I expect them back later tonight. I'm here catching up on the books.” Annabelle could see disappointment etched on the other woman's features, and she looked past her to the darkened sidewalk
in front of the gallery. She appeared to be alone. “If you don't mind me asking, are you all right? You seem a little…upset.”

“I just needed to talk and I thought…” Her voice trailed away, and she shook her head apologetically. “I should've called first. I'll let you get back to your work.”

“I'm Annabelle. Would you like to come in?”

Rain had taken a few steps back, but at the offer she halted her retreat. She hesitated before slowly coming inside. “I'm Rain Sommers.”

“I know who you are.” Annabelle locked the door behind them. “Does Trevor know you're here? Considering what's going on, I'm surprised he'd let you out at night alone.”

“He doesn't know.” Rain tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, looking as if she was deciding how much to say. “He thinks I'm at home under guard.”

“Should I call and tell him where you are?”

“No, please don't. We sort of had a…disagreement tonight. He left…”

Annabelle studied Rain. When she spoke again, her voice was tentative. “You care about my brother, don't you?”

Although the question seemed to catch her off guard, Rain met her eyes.

“I think I might be falling in love with him.” She ran her hands along the front of her jeans, then pressed them against her face. “I shouldn't have said that…I'm a little tired. A lot's happened over the past few days.”

Annabelle touched Rain's shoulder. She walked her farther inside the gallery and tried to put her at ease. “I tease Trevor about being my big brother, but he's actually a whopping twenty-eight minutes older than me. Did you know we're fraternal twins?”

“I'm afraid there's a lot about Trevor I don't know,” Rain
admitted. “I guess that's why I'm here… I was hoping Brian might shed some light.”

“Trevor's had a wall around him for a long time. You look like you just ran into it.”

Rain gave a weak laugh. “Something like that.”

Annabelle pressed her lips together in contemplation. Rain appeared skittish, as if she might bolt back out through the door at any time. The tell was there in her haunted expression and shimmering eyes; her feelings for Trevor were sincere.

She deserved to know.

“If you still feel like talking, maybe I could be a substitute for Brian? I know we just met, but I've been looking at your photograph over Alex's desk for so long I feel like I already know you. Regardless, you shouldn't be running around by yourself. It's not safe.”

Rain stared at the floor. “Thank you for being so nice.”

“Let's go into the back, though.” She reset the security system using the keypad near the door. “I don't want anyone thinking the gallery's still open.”

She led her down the hall, stopping to introduce her to Haley. While Rain chatted with her daughter, Annabelle inserted a movie into the DVD player. Soon, Haley was immersed in a colorful animation featuring a sassy talking fish and sea creatures.

“Why don't we sit in Alex's office.” She kept her voice down so she didn't disturb Haley's cartoon. “I know where he keeps the good liquor.”

She figured they both deserved a stiff drink before the conversation they were about to have.

 

He didn't have time for self-recrimination and regret.

Still, Trevor pulled the Taurus over. Its tires spun gravel as it came to a halt on a street at the edge of Audubon Park, near the campuses of Tulane and Loyola universities. He scrubbed
his hands over his face and tried to block out the conversation with Rain that kept replaying in his head.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Remorse tore through him like the hot lead of a bullet. He didn't actually think she'd been involved in D'Alba's stunt, did he? Not for a minute, he finally admitted to himself. For one thing, after the attack her fear had been all too real. Trevor recalled the way Rain had broken down in the bay of the E.R. that night. She'd trembled in his arms, her tears making damp spots on his shirt. Guilt spiraled inside him as he thought of the bruises left on her throat by the man's choking grip. That had been no act.

Then why had he reacted the way he did to D'Alba's claim?

If you can doubt me, it's easier to close me out. It's how you deal with anyone who cares about you. Brian, your sister, me.

Rain's accuracy was uncanny.

In many ways, Trevor thought he'd recovered from his past. Moved on. But every day, it still seemed to be claiming a part of him, making him feel distrustful and alone. Before Rain, there'd been other women. Quite a few, in fact. But if any of them made the mistake of falling in love with him, he'd put as much distance between them as he could. His job provided a convenient excuse—too much responsibility, too much travel—for him to forge or maintain any real connection.

Trevor stared at his scraped knuckles, the result of his explosive reaction to seeing the man's barbed-wire tattoo. After he'd been dragged off the perp by McGrath and Thibodeaux, he'd hit the precinct's wall with his fist, desperate to channel his anger. He was lucky he hadn't broken his hand. Had Rain affected him that deeply?

Tugging his lower lip between his fingers, Trevor stared
out the windshield at the park's moss-draped oak trees and lush grass. Below him, a marble-green lagoon reflected moonlight, its surface mirror smooth. The familiar sulfur smell of decomposing plants blew in through the car's air-conditioning vent. This place, this city, was a conduit for broken memories he didn't want to remember.

This goes beyond your father. What happened that's made it so hard to trust anyone?

His cell phone rang. He dug it from his pocket and flipped it open. “Rivette.”

Fifteen seconds later, the Taurus made a sharp U-turn as it pulled onto the road. He headed back to the Lower Garden District. The saying “Don't shoot the messenger” crossed his mind, but it didn't keep him from wanting to put some serious hurt on the officer on duty at Rain's house. The man who was supposed to be keeping an eye on her. At least he'd had the guts to call and deliver the news himself.

Somehow, she'd disappeared.

Trevor called Rain's cell phone, but it went straight to voice mail. He left a terse message demanding she call him, then said a silent prayer that she'd left of her own accord.

Whether Armand Baptiste was Dante or not, the killer was still out there somewhere.