Midnight Caller (27 page)

T
wo coffee cups sat on the kitchen counter, and only a dusting of powdered sugar remained from the beignets purchased at the corner bakery. Rain trailed a finger through what was left of the snowy confection. From upstairs came the knock of the old house's pipes, indicating Trevor was in the shower.

As she began clearing away their breakfast dishes, she noticed the blinking light on the phone console that hung on the wall. When had a call come through?

Rain dialed into the message system. A synthesized voice announced there was a single message, with a time stamp of late the previous evening. She entered her access code. Oliver's speech was slurred.

Dr. Sommers? You need to pick up. You're not answering your cell. I've got to talk to you. Fuck. Just pick up the phone…

Her cell phone. As a rule, Rain kept it with her since it was the number she gave to patients for use in case of an emergency. But she now recalled tossing it onto the seat of the Taurus after making the 911 call. Last night she'd forgotten to bring it inside. Oliver's second call, the one made to her home, had gone unnoticed. She wondered if it had been sent
straight to voice mail when Trevor was on the phone with the hospital and police.

In her office, she located the number for Oliver's cell. It rang repeatedly but no one answered. A call to the residence on St. Charles Avenue garnered the same response. What should she do? Going to look for Oliver would be pointless, since she had no earthly idea where to find him.

Rain walked into the parlor as Trevor came downstairs. He wore jeans and a fresh T-shirt, his hair damp and his own cell phone gripped in his hand.

“What's wrong?” she asked, seeing his expression.

“Annabelle just called. It's my niece, Haley. She's gone.”

Rain thought of the little girl and her heart froze. “Someone took her?”

“Not someone. My father. I need to get over there now.”

 

Still wearing her running clothes, Rain accompanied Trevor to Annabelle's. She found her cell phone in the car and as Trevor drove, she tried to reach Oliver again, but to no avail.

One emergency at a time,
she thought as she stuffed the phone into the patchwork denim bag she'd brought with her. It was one of Celeste's favorite sayings, something she'd repeated often when Rain was in the high drama of her teenage years. She only hoped a similar theatrical flair was behind Oliver's call. One thing was for certain—James Rivette had impeccable timing. Rain glanced at Trevor as he drove well above the posted speed limit and wondered how much one man was supposed to take.

Turning onto the street, she saw a squad car in front of a neat raspberry-hued cottage with gingerbread trim and a wide front porch. They parked, and she went with Trevor up the sidewalk as a police officer emerged from the house. Trevor dug his shield from his back pocket and presented it.
The two men walked to a line of green-leafed hosta plants at the yard's edge and spoke in quiet tones.

Going up to the porch, Rain looked inside through the open front door. Annabelle sat huddled on the couch, a tissue wadded in her slender fingers. Alex was next to her, trying to console her, while Brian paced the far side of the room. Rain turned as the officer got into his squad car and drove away.

“They're going to put out an Amber Alert for the Chevy he drives and they're sending a unit to watch his apartment,” Trevor said as he came up the porch stairs. Distress filled his eyes. “He left a note on the front door that said he was taking Haley out for breakfast, like it's a perfectly normal activity. I swear, if he does anything—”

He stopped speaking as Annabelle appeared at the door. Rain embraced the other woman.

“It's okay, Anna,” Trevor promised. “We'll get her back.”

Annabelle met her brother's gaze. Her voice shook. “You were right. I should've gotten a restraining order.”

“You had no idea he'd pull something like this.”

“Has Dad ever tried to make contact with Haley before?” The question came from Brian, who'd followed Annabelle onto the porch.

“Never,” Annabelle said, sniffling. “He'd never even come to the house until a few days ago when—”

“He was looking for me.” Trevor finished the statement and Rain touched his arm. She knew that in his mind, he'd already accepted responsibility for his father's stunt, as well as anything that might happen to his niece.

“What can we do?” Alex asked. He'd stepped outside behind Brian.

“Nothing,” Brian said. “It's like the old days. We're powerless.”

“Like hell.” Trevor headed down the stairs. “I can go out looking for the bastard.”

Brian caught up to him before he reached the gate. “Where are you even going to start? The police already have an alert out for the car—”

“I can't just sit around here while—”

The phone in the house rang. Annabelle rushed inside with the rest of them on her heels. As soon as she answered the phone, her body went rigid. “Where are you? I want my daughter back!”

Still holding the receiver against her ear, her eyes swung to Trevor. Rain's stomach tightened.

“He wants to talk to you.”

Trevor took the phone. He didn't waste time with a greeting. “I want Haley back now. You hear me, old man?”

He listened to whatever his father was saying on the other end of the line. Wearily, he passed a hand over his face and released a frustrated breath.

“We'll be there.” Although his voice was low, the threat it held was clear. “If Haley's shed a single tear, I'll kill you.”

Trevor disconnected the phone. His eyes were the color of cold gray steel. “He's drunk. He claims he just wanted to get to know his grandchild. They're over at City Park, riding the carousel.”

Brian laughed bitterly. “You're kidding.”

“He wants us to meet him—you, Annabelle and me,” Trevor continued. “He says he made a mistake and if we don't involve the police further, he'll give Haley back without incident.”

He looked as though he wanted to throw something through one of the room's paned windows. “He was going on about how unfair life's been to him. How none of what happened to any of us was his fault—”

His words broke off angrily, and Annabelle went to him.

“I just want to get her back, Trevor. Please.”

“We're calling the cops and telling them where he is,” Brian said as he reached for the phone.

“No.” Trevor stopped him. “He says if he sees any cops, he's going to run. I don't want Haley caught in the middle of this. I'll make a call to the police on the way over, tell them to stay on the park's perimeter but not to approach.”

Trevor turned to look at Rain, who stood next to Alex.

“Go with your family,” she said softly. “You don't need to keep up with me. Besides, a stranger might agitate him.”

He appeared hesitant. “When I call the police, I'll ask for the officer who was just here to turn around and come back. It shouldn't be more than five minutes. Until then—”

Alex spoke up. “I'll stay with her. We'll be fine.”

Outside, Rain and Alex stood on the porch as the others climbed into Brian's Audi, leaving Trevor's damaged rental sedan behind. The doors slammed closed and Brian started the powerful engine. The car peeled away and disappeared down the street.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Alex intoned, running a hand through his hair. “Can you believe this?”

“Unfortunately, I can.” Rain thought of what she'd learned about the family's violent, tragic past. The secrets were bubbling to the surface, and she thanked God that at least Trevor wasn't meeting his father alone. He desperately needed Brian and Annabelle there to ground him, to keep him from losing control.

She sighed worriedly, recalling that Trevor said his father was intoxicated. He'd put Haley in a car and driven away with her, risking her safety.

“Maybe we should go back into the house. Until the police get here,” Alex suggested. She followed him inside and locked the front door behind them. As they went into the efficient galley-style kitchen, Rain resigned herself to the fact that she'd have to wait as calmly as she could for the events at City
Park to play out. In the meantime, she could try to contact Oliver again. So far, he hadn't returned either of the messages she'd left him.

“We could have some coffee,” Rain said as she searched inside her bag for her cell phone. The coffeemaker on the counter held a carafe full of the dark brew. Not that her nerves needed an added jolt of caffeine, but it could help pass the time.

“Coffee, hell.” Alex opened one of the cabinet doors and peered at the rows of canned goods and other staples. He gave Rain a strained smile. “I'm a train wreck, honey. Where do you think Annabelle hides the bourbon?”

A
lthough the massive live oaks in City Park provided a canopy against the sun, the midmorning humidity had already grown oppressive. Trevor's T-shirt stuck to his skin as he scanned the children's play area for his father.

True to his claim, James slumped on a wrought-iron bench across from the antique carousel. Haley sat next to him. Still dressed in her striped pajamas, she swung her moccasin-clad feet contentedly and munched on a pink cloud of cotton candy. Lyrical calliope music floated through the trees' low-spread branches.

“Son of a bitch,” Trevor fumed. He felt Annabelle touch his wrist.

“Don't scare her,” Brian said. “She doesn't understand what's going on.”

As they approached, Haley called to them and climbed down from the bench. She ran to Annabelle, who scooped the child up in her arms.

“Haley, you know better than to get in a car with a stranger.” Annabelle glared at her father as she wiped sticky sugar from her daughter's face.

“But he isn't a stranger!” Haley waved at James, who
waved back. “That man who came to our house, Mommy? He's my grandfather! He said so!”

“It's about time I got to know my grandbaby.” James put his hands on the knees of his trousers and winked conspiratorially. “Ain't that right, sweetheart?”

“Anna, take Haley to get cleaned up,” Trevor instructed.

Putting Haley down, Annabelle took her hand. “Let's go to the restroom. Then maybe we'll take a ride on the carousel.”

With a concerned glance at Trevor and Brian, she led her away. James leaned back against the bench. Nearby, the miniature train that ran through the park's camellia gardens rumbled past, its bell clanging as children laughed and shouted from its seats.

“If it ain't the saint and the sinner,” he mused, his glassy gaze traveling over his sons as they approached.

Trevor kept his voice low and controlled. “Annabelle's taking out a restraining order on Monday. You come within two hundred feet of her or Haley again and you'll land your ass in jail, if what you pulled today doesn't already put you there.”

Hauling himself from the bench, James pushed a blunt finger into Trevor's chest. “I got rights to see that little girl—”

“No, you don't. And don't touch me.” Trevor shoved his father's hand away. He could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Thought I'd beat that attitude out of you a long time ago.”

Brian gripped Trevor's shoulder. “Don't bring this down to his level. Let's just get Annabelle and Haley and go.”

“And what about
you?
” James turned on Brian, sneering. “I've seen you around with your swishy boyfriend. Are you the husband or the wife? You disgust me. You're an embarrassment to the family name!”

“That's rich coming from you, Dad,” Brian murmured.

Trevor placed his hand on his holstered gun. “I don't know what this is about, but I don't have time to waste with you. I'm giving you the chance to walk away before this gets ugly.”

A drop of perspiration trailed down James's flaccid neck before soaking into his plaid cotton shirt. Sweat had created dark circles under his arms, and he hitched up the belt that was barely visible under his protruding gut. He stared hatefully at Trevor. “I should've finished the job I started on you. That's my regret.”

Trevor felt a nerve jump along his jaw, but he didn't look away. His father's eyes held a cruel gleam.

“You gotta ask yourself where your family was when you needed 'em, Trev. They had no problem shipping you off when you woke up with an addled brain—”

“Shut up,” Brian said.

“But here you are, making out like the perfect family. Guess you really can forgive. As long as you're in City Park, maybe y'all should have a picnic.”

Years of hurt and anger tore at Trevor, but he held his ground.

“You always despised me, Dad, because I stood up to you.” He stepped forward, his face directly in front of his father's. “I knew you for what you were. A bully and an on-the-take cop. Now you're just a pathetic drunk who has to stoop to tricks to get his children to even look at him. You're old and alone. You got everything you deserve.”

James clenched his fist and pulled it back, but Trevor caught his arm. “I'm telling you one more time to go, before I arrest you myself. Don't come near Annabelle or Haley again.”

A charged silence hung between the two men. Then James wrung himself free. His face flushed persimmon.

“To hell with both of you.” Staggering away, he halted
when he reached the crushed-shell path. “Oh, yeah. Almost forgot.”

He fumbled in his shirt pocket and threw something on the ground at Trevor's feet. White gold glinted against the dewy grass.

“What's that?” Brian asked, looking at his father as Trevor picked up the object.

James shrugged. He wedged a cigarette between his lips and patted his trousers for a lighter. “I'm just the messenger. He said you'd know what it meant.”

The delicate serpentine chain pooled in Trevor's palm as he stared at the amethyst pendant. His lungs felt incapable of taking in air. She'd been wearing it the night of Brian's opening, then again when they'd made the trip to the Ascension. The unlit cigarette fell to the ground as Trevor launched forward and grabbed his father's shirt collar. Taken by surprise, James held on to his son's forearms to keep from falling.

“Where'd you get this?”

James sputtered as he tried to dislodge Trevor's hands. “Jesus! A man came by the bar!”

“Trevor!” Brian tried to get between the two men. “He's not worth it—”

“What man?” Trevor gave James a hard shake. “Answer me!”

For the first time, his father looked more nervous than cocky. His face appeared heavily lined in the sunlight that filtered through the tree boughs overhead. “He said you'd been messing with his girlfriend! That you gave her that necklace, and he wanted to send it back to you with a warning—”

“A warning?” Brian repeated, confused. A buzzing built in Trevor's ears that competed with the voice in his head, telling him he'd been a fool. It wasn't a warning, but a subterfuge.

“Use your cell to call Annabelle's house,” Trevor ordered Brian. “Right now!”

He dragged James to the bench and shoved him onto it. Cursing, James swung wildly. But his father's inebriated state gave Trevor the advantage. Pulling handcuffs from his pocket, he managed to snap one of the bracelets around James's large-boned wrist. He closed the other over the bench's wrought-iron armrest.

“You can't do this!” The handcuffs clanked loudly, drawing the attention of passersby like a town crier's bell. “I haven't done anything!”

Trevor's knees felt weak. “Try accessory to kid napping!”

“That little girl's my grandchild!”

“I'm not talking about Haley!”

Brian paced in front of the bench with his phone to his ear. “No one's answering. Trevor, what's going on?”

“Stay with him until I can get the cops to pick him up.” Trevor tried not to let the fear show in his face. “Then take a taxi back to the house with Annabelle and Haley. I need your car keys.”

Brian didn't ask questions. He handed them over and Trevor took off at a run.

 

“This is FBI agent Trevor Rivette, badge number JTF0171012. I need a patch to the officer assigned to 1211 Lucerne Street!”

His cell phone pressed against his ear, Trevor reached the parking lot and flung himself into the Audi. He started the ignition and whipped the vehicle onto St. Bernard Avenue heading back to Faubourg Marigny. Within a minute, the radio's crackle came through the phone's receiver.

“Agent Rivette? We've had some trouble at this location. I've got an ambulance here and additional units combing the area.”

“How many hurt?”

“Just one. Hispanic male, mid-forties.”

“What about the woman?”

There was a brief pause. “Sorry, Agent. There's no one else here.”

Trevor disconnected the call and threw the phone onto the seat as he accelerated the car.

Turning onto Annabelle's street minutes later, his heart slammed inside his chest. An ambulance and three NOPD squad cars sat in front of the house with their lights flashing. A gaggle of police officers stood on the porch, and curious neighbors were gathered outside the yard's fence.

Leaving the car in the middle of the street, Trevor flashed his shield at an officer who attempted to block his path on the sidewalk. “This is my sister's house. What can you tell me?”

“Officer Defillo's inside, Agent. He's the one who called for assistance. You should talk to him.”

Trevor raced up the porch and into the parlor. The officer was a stocky, Italian-looking man who'd responded to Haley's disappearance earlier that morning. He stood outside the kitchen doorway.

“What the hell happened?” Trevor asked as he approached.

“Looks like the intruder came in through a window in back.” Defillo gestured down the hall where Annabelle's bedroom was located. “The screen's been pried off and it was left open. Whatever happened, it went down before I got back here this morning.”

“What time was that?”

“Nine twenty-two.”

Trevor worked to keep his composure. Barely five minutes had passed between his departure and the officer's arrival, but it had given Dante all the time he needed. He'd been watching and waiting somewhere nearby for his opportunity.

“Has anyone spoken with the neighbors?”

“The lady next door heard a woman screaming,” Defillo recounted as he checked the notes he'd scribbled into a writing tablet. “Said she looked outside and saw a black SUV pulling away. She's not sure of the make and she didn't get a license plate, but she noticed the vehicle had some fancy wheels. Probably chrome-aluminum rims.”

“I'm going to want to talk to her.” Trevor strode into the kitchen, then came to a halt at the scene. Alex lay on the floor. Two paramedics were securing a stabilizing collar around his neck so he could be lifted onto a gurney. Blood oozed through the white gauze on the side of his head.

Trevor knelt next to him. Alex's eyes were closed, and an oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. Its plastic fogged with his shallow breathing.

“Alex, can you hear me?” When he received no response, he looked at the paramedics. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He took a pretty hard hit,” one of them replied. “They'll know more after a cranial CT scan.”

Trevor stood as Alex was placed on the gurney. His eyes followed the paramedics' path as they rolled him outside, and then he did his best to take an objective look around the room.

Rain's denim bag and cell phone were on the table. Brown liquid pooled from an overturned coffee mug, soaking into the cloth place mats. One of the chairs was on its side, wedged against the refrigerator. A heavy bookend from the parlor lay on the floor—it was more than likely the object that had been used to strike Alex. Rubbing his closed eyes with his fingertips, Trevor tried to clear his head.

He had to stay focused. It was the only chance Rain had.

The sound of a throat being cleared came from the doorway, and Trevor turned to see McGrath. He had on his stan
dard detective's uniform of trousers, short-sleeved dress shirt and tie. His gold shield hung on a chain around his neck.

“We heard on the scanner,” he said as he came into the room, carefully sidestepping the evidence. “They gave the home owner's last name, and Tibbs remembered you had family here. We made the connection.”

Trevor looked away from the detective. Through the kitchen window, he could see Thibodeaux standing on the side lawn and leaning against the fence as he spoke to a group of neighbors.

“The woman who was taken. Was it your sister?”

Trevor shook his head. “She was with me.”

“Then who?”

He swallowed. “Rain Sommers.”

“Shit. What was she doing here?”

“I had a family emergency. I thought she'd be safe until I could get a cop over here to watch her.”

With heavy steps, Trevor went to stand in front of the sink. Turning on the faucet, he splashed cold water onto his face and let his head hang down briefly between his shoulders before reaching for a roll of paper towels. Dante's obsession with Rain was the one thing that might keep her alive—at least for a while, he reasoned. He tried not to think about how scared she must be or what might be happening to her right now. Blotting his face with the towel, he dropped the wadded ball next to the basin.

“You sleeping with her, Rivette?” McGrath had walked up beside him. When Trevor didn't respond, he added, “I noticed how close you seemed with her at the hospital. If you ask me—”

“I didn't.”

McGrath scratched his mustache with his index finger and lowered the volume of his words. “You're not the first to get emotionally involved in a case. Just make sure it doesn't get
in the way of clear thinking. Otherwise, you need to recuse yourself now before things get any worse.”

After a moment, he slid his hands into his pockets and took a few steps toward the doorway. “Let me know if Tibbs and I can do anything.”

“McGrath?” Trevor's voice halted the detective's exit. He would have to alert the local FBI team about Rain's abduction, get photos of her circulated and updates to the media as soon as possible. But he needed McGrath and Thibodeaux, as well. “There's a collar being brought into your precinct. I need you to lean on him hard.”

“What's the deal?”

“Obstruction of a federal investigation, possible accessory to kidnapping. He pulled me out to City Park on a prank, giving the killer enough time to move in here and abduct Dr. Sommers.”

“What're you saying? Dante has a partner?”