Midnight Caller (32 page)

T
revor's instructions to Brian were explicit. Stay with the Cessna, and leave with Rain if she made it back without him. He'd also given Brian the small handgun he carried in an ankle holster, in the event Carteris managed to follow her back to the plane. Then Trevor had hugged him as if he expected to never see him again.

Despite their father being a cop, Brian had never held a gun, let alone fired one. But the shot that echoed across the swampland had brought him to a quick decision. He'd taken off at a run on the mud-and-gravel road, traveling in the same direction as his brother. To hell with what Trevor told him to do—he wasn't going to let him die out here.

Cautiously, Brian peered into the dimly lit interior from the cabin's open doorway. Trevor was on the floor on the far side of the room—he was hurt, but how badly Brian didn't know. Should he wait? Trevor had radioed the FBI field office not long after they'd taken off from Lakefront Airport in New Orleans. Backup couldn't be too far behind. He hesitated, afraid of making a fatal mistake. But Rain's screams tore at him as the man hauled her across the room.

When they neared the door, Brian took a breath and stepped inside, pointing the gun.

Surprise registered in Christian Carteris's eyes. He pulled Rain in front of him, holding the knife against her throat. Her face was pale and streaked with tears.

“You lied about coming alone, Rivette. I'm impressed,” Carteris called over his shoulder. He looked amused as he gave Brian the once-over. “And who are you?”

Brian tightened his grip on the gun. “I'm the man who's going to blow you the fuck away if you don't let go of her.”

His grin widened. “You're the brother, aren't you? The artist?”

“Drop the knife! I'm not kidding!”

He responded by increasing the blade's pressure. Rain made an agonized sound as a line of crimson appeared on her skin. Fear flashed in her eyes.

“Would you like to watch me bleed her, Brian? Maybe you'd like a taste yourself? It's quite addictive.”

“You're sick—”

“I promise, drugs don't compare. Not liquid cocaine or heroin—it's like no high you've experienced.” He swiped his index finger across the blood on Rain's neck. Then he brought it to his mouth and licked. Brian swallowed hard, his stomach twisting.

“Your brother's dying—quite painfully, actually,” Carteris goaded. “If he's still breathing when I finish with this whore, I might show him some mercy and slit his throat.”

For a fraction of a second, Brian's gaze darted to Trevor's slumped form. The distraction gave Carteris opportunity. Shoving Rain aside, he sprung. Brian squeezed the gun's trigger, but Carteris struck his arm, knocking the bullet's trajectory off course. It shattered the paneled wall as noise exploded and the acrid odor of gunpowder filled the air. Brian fell with Carteris on top of him.

The knife skittered under the couch as they fought for control of the gun. Brian held on to it, but Carteris had a viselike
grip on his forearm. He slammed Brian's hand repeatedly against the wood floor. Brian felt his tenuous grasp on the weapon weakening with each hard whack. He yelled a curse as it finally slipped from his fingers.

Carteris intercepted the gun and shuffled backward like a sand crab, his expression victorious. He hoisted himself up. Still panting from the scuffle, he raised the gun.

From the corner of his eye, Brian glimpsed Trevor struggling to stand. Realization settled over him like a woolen blanket.

He was about to die.

Instinctively, Brian shielded his face with his arm, but not before seeing the faint movement behind Carteris. Rain.

Another deafening explosion shook the room. A second later, Carteris dropped his arm and let go of the weapon. His knees buckled and he fell face-first to the floor. Rain stood where Carteris had been just moments before, smoke curling from the barrel of the gun gripped in her hands. Blood spread from a fist-size hole in the center of Carteris's back. A last rattling breath escaped his lungs and then the monster lay still.

Brian got up. “Jesus, Rain!”

“The gun was in the waistband of his pants.” Her voice shook. “I…pulled it out and I…”

His heart thrummed. He looked at Trevor, and even in the candlelight he could see blood staining his shirt. He'd slipped back down to the floor. His head leaned against the wall, his eyes closed. Appearing stunned, Rain continued staring at Carteris's body, and Brian gave her a small shake.

“We've got to get Trevor out of here. To a hospital.” He thought of the small clinics in the outlying bayou parishes, ill equipped to handle a life-threatening emergency. “A real one, with a trauma center.”

“The FBI's on its way. They can help—”

“We can't wait. Get your shoes and find the keys to the SUV outside. We can use it to get him back to the plane. We landed on the highway.”

She started toward Trevor, but Brian grabbed her arm. “Find the keys, Rain. There's not a lot of time.”

Nodding jerkily, she went in search of them.

“Trevor.” Brian crossed the room and sank to his knees. His brother's skin where he touched it was clammy.

“I told you to stay with the Cessna,” Trevor said, his words threaded with pain.

“Yeah? Good thing for you I don't listen.” Brian tried not to appear alarmed by the amount of blood. Anger rippled through him when he saw that Trevor's hands were cuffed behind his back. It hadn't even been a fair fight. “How do I get these off you?”

“The keys are in my pocket.” With some effort, Trevor leaned sideways so Brian could reach inside his jeans. Once he removed the handcuffs, Brian got up and headed into the kitchen, returning with a stack of clean dish towels. He pressed them against Trevor's wounds, working to stay calm as his brother flinched.

“Sorry about that,” Brian said softly.

“Carteris is dead?”

“One hundred percent. Rain shot him right through the heart.”

“That's my girl,” he whispered.

“Trevor, you've got to help us get you to the plane. Think you can do that?”

“Yeah.” But his nod was weak.

Rain returned wearing sneakers and clutching the keys to the Escalade. Her frightened gaze met Brian's over the top of Trevor's head.

“I'll carry most of his weight,” Brian told her. “But you're
going to have to keep pressure on the wound. The movement might make the bleeding worse.”

She knelt next to Trevor, placing her hand over the towels as Brian removed his. Trevor looked into her face. “You all right?”

Her eyes sparkled with tears. “I'm fine.”

“Did he hurt you? I need to know—”

“I'm okay,” Rain repeated. She smoothed his damp hair back from his forehead with her free hand.

“What you said to Carteris, about making up for Desiree's betrayal…” Trevor paused, his brow furrowing in pain. “Who the hell was this guy? McGrath found letters he wrote to your mother thirty years ago—”

She hushed him. “Save your strength. None of it matters now.”

“Let's do this,” Brian said. With Rain's help, he got Trevor to his feet. He put his shoulder under his brother's and Rain did her best to support him on the other side. They moved forward, stepping around Carteris's body and the blood that bloomed around it. Leaving the cabin's interior, they slowly navigated the porch stairs. Brian looked at the silhouetted frame of the burned-down plantation manor and felt a chill go up his spine.

At the SUV, he got into the backseat first, pulling Trevor in after him so he was lying on his back. Once they had him situated, Rain removed her hand from the towels. Her face paled at the crimson already soaking through them. Trevor's head rested in Brian's lap, his chest rising and falling with his shallow breathing.

“How're you doing?” Brian asked.

“My chest hurts,” Trevor murmured. His eyes closed, but Brian tapped his cheek until they flickered back open.

“Hey. No sleeping on the job, Agent.” He attempted a
smile, but it faltered as Trevor coughed. He looked at Rain. “We need to go.”

The keys to the Escalade were in her hand. Backing out of the vehicle, she ran to the driver's side and got in. Rain put the keys into the ignition and the engine roared to life. The SUV's headlights cut into the darkness, illuminating the boughs of ancient trees.

“Drive slowly,” Brian instructed from the backseat. “We don't need to get stuck.”

It was only after the mud-splattered SUV reached the rural highway that he remembered. Rain was terrified of driving—always had been, according to Alex. In his concern for Trevor, he'd completely forgotten her phobia. Rain hadn't mentioned it, instead climbing behind the wheel as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She hadn't wanted to waste the precious seconds it would have taken for them to switch positions, he realized. She'd driven admirably well, maintaining control of the vehicle and slipping only once on the makeshift road.

By the time the SUV came to a stop, Trevor's breathing had grown increasingly labored. Brian dragged him from the vehicle into the waiting plane.

“I'm afraid he's going into shock.” Rain huddled in the nearly nonexistent space between the cockpit and the first row of passenger seats next to where Trevor was lying. She pressed her hands over the saturated towels covering his wound. Brian threw himself into the pilot's chair and prepared for a dare-devil takeoff on the isolated stretch of road.

“Damn it, Trev!” Brian swiveled in his seat as the plane's propellers started. He felt the sting of tears behind his eyelids. “You stay with us, you hear me?”

“Just go,” Rain pleaded. Her fingers, rusty with blood, stood out against the towels.

A few moments later, they were headed up into the starless
night. Brian contacted emergency services on the plane's radio, requesting that an ambulance be waiting for them at the airport in New Orleans.

R
ain flung open the Audi's door and raced through the entrance of All Saints Hospital. Brian was close behind her. There hadn't been room for either of them in the ambulance, so they'd been forced to follow in its wake from Lakefront Airport. As Brian went to the admitting desk and began tersely asking questions, Rain felt the blatant stares of others inside the E.R. She was aware of her appearance, including the blood staining her clothes. But she didn't care. All she wanted was to know Trevor would be all right.

He'd stopped breathing as the plane made its descent. Rain had performed mouth-to-mouth while Brian brought them down on the tarmac next to the glistening black waters of Lake Pontchartrain.

So much blood. She thought of Trevor's fading pulse under her fingers and covered her face with her hands. How anyone could survive such a trauma seemed out of the realm of possibility.

When she looked up again, she saw Annabelle coming toward them.

“What's happening?” Brian asked, meeting his sister. “I can't get the Nazi at the front desk to tell me a damn thing—”

“They've got him stabilized. He just went up to surgery.” As soon as the plane was back in the range of cell towers, Brian had called Annabelle and alerted her to what had happened. She must have been waiting at the hospital when the ambulance carrying Trevor arrived.

She laid her hand on Brian's face, her eyes soft. “Go see Alex, okay? He's lying upstairs in bed, crazy with worry.”

Reluctantly, he nodded and walked down the corridor to the elevators. As soon as he'd gone, Annabelle's gaze traveled over Rain's cuts and bruises. “Rain? Shouldn't you see someone? You look like you could use a doctor, honey.”

“I'm okay.” But she winced when Annabelle touched her. Her wrist was stiff and throbbed dully.

“Oh, God! Your arm is black and blue—”

“I just need a shower and some coffee.” She refused to waste time sitting for an X-ray while Trevor was fighting for his life. “Did they tell you anything?”

Emotion darkened Annabelle's eyes. “Not really. I heard them mention a pneumothorax?”

“A collapsed lung,” Rain said softly.

“Dr. Sommers?” A tall, muscularly built man with wheat-colored hair approached. Despite the time of night, he was dressed in khaki trousers and a crisp button-down shirt. Somberly, Annabelle made the introductions.

“Rain, this is Sawyer Compton. He's with the D.A.'s office.”

Rain knew who he was. She'd seen him on television, being interviewed on the parish courthouse steps on numerous occasions. Most recently, he'd taken part in the news conference held by the joint FBI and police task force relating to the serial murders. Sawyer Compton was known for his tough stance on crime, his disregard for the good ol' boys' network, and his reputation as one of the city's most eligible bachelors.

“I grew up in the same neighborhood with the Rivette
family,” Sawyer explained. “Trevor and I are old friends. Don't let him tell you otherwise.”

Annabelle's reddened eyes hadn't escaped him. He turned to her. “You okay, chère? The doctor hasn't been back down here?”

“Nothing like that,” she replied. “I'm just feeling a bit weepy.”

Sawyer's hand lingered at Annabelle's waist. He looked at Rain apologetically. “I came down here to give Annabelle moral support, not to conduct official business. But we've got an NOPD detective dead and an FBI agent wounded, so I need to ask you a few questions.”

“I understand.”

“I got a call from the FBI. A SWAT team went out to Vermilion Parish at Agent Rivette's request. They said Dr. Carteris is dead. Agent Rivette shot him?”

Rain's eyes were unwavering. “No. I did.”

She told him everything she knew about Carteris.

 

Rain took a shower in Alex's hospital room while Annabelle went in search of clean clothes for her to wear. As the hot spray kneaded her exhausted body, she stared down at the drain. Brownish water—a mixture of bayou dirt and Trevor's blood—swirled at her feet and disappeared. Holding her stomach, Rain doubled over in the stall and retched. But there was nothing inside her to come out. She sank to her knees, hoping the noise of the running water muffled her quiet sobs. He had to live. Trevor had been in surgery for nearly two hours, and they'd been told next to nothing.

Several minutes later, Rain turned off the shower. She stood in the collected steam and tried to regain control over herself. A knock sounded at the door.

“Rain?” It was Annabelle. “I found some clothes. They're medical scrubs, but at least they're clean.”

“Thanks,” she replied weakly, unsure if the other woman could even hear her. But the door opened a few inches and Annabelle placed the garments on the edge of the sink before closing it again.

When she came out, Annabelle handed her a wax-paper cup filled with coffee and covered with a plastic lid.

“Any word?” Rain asked, but Annabelle shook her head. Rain glanced at Brian, who sat in a chair next to Alex's bed. But he looked away from her and focused his gaze on the television set bracketed to the wall.

“We're all praying for him,” Alex said as he grasped Brian's hand.

Nodding, she cupped her palms around the coffee's warmth for a few moments. Then she placed it on a shelf, leaving it untouched.

“I'm going back to the waiting room,” she murmured and walked out.

She had to leave, before she fell apart in front of them. Rain kept on her path down the brightly lit corridor, despite Annabelle calling after her. She pushed the button in the elevator bay and looked out the plate-glass window. The darkness outside had never seemed more formidable, although she knew daybreak was only a short time away. Fear whispered to her that she might never see Trevor again.

Annabelle caught up to her as the elevator doors opened. She stepped on beside her. “I'm coming with you.”

Rain looked at the floor, unable to hide her tears.

“No one blames you,” Annabelle said. “Brian's just upset. He's second-guessing himself about not taking Trevor to one of the parish clinics.”

“It's my fault he's in surgery. He was trying to save
me.
”

“You didn't cause this,” Annabelle reasoned as the elevator began moving down. “Trevor has a dangerous job. We're all aware of that.”

Rain rubbed a hand over her eyes, unwilling to absolve herself of responsibility. “If it hadn't been me who Carteris abducted, Trevor would never have done something as reckless as go out there alone.”

“He couldn't have lived with himself if anything happened to you. Call it a twin's intuition, but I think Trevor loves you, Rain. He'd risk anything to protect the people he cares about. I'm proof of that.”

Trevor loves you.
Annabelle's quiet assertion was more than Rain could handle. She fought another wave of tears. “Oliver was my patient. I should've known—”

“Should've known what?” Annabelle asked gently. “That his father was some deranged vampire freak obsessed with your mother? You had no reason to think anything except that Oliver Carteris was a troubled young man who'd been given too much money and too many freedoms. He never said anything to you that hinted at what he was involved in, did he?”

“No.” The elevator doors opened again. Rain knew Annabelle had heard her conversation with Sawyer Compton. She released a breath. “The assistant D.A. probably thinks I'm insane.”

“Sawyer's having his staff dig into Carteris's background. But he's heard pretty much everything in his line of work.”

They walked into an alcove near double doors marked Surgical Staff Only. The waiting area was lit by ceramic table lamps and the silvery glow of an aquarium, and couches were arranged around the room. Brian joined them a short time later. He sat next to Rain, pulling her to him as he whispered an apology.

Holding her injured wrist, Rain fell into an uneasy sleep against him. But it wasn't long before Brian's movements brought her back to consciousness. She rose to her feet with
the others as a fatherly-looking man walked into the waiting area.

“Rivette family?”

His scrubs bore the telltale stains of blood.