Midnight Caller (24 page)

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Authors: Leslie Tentler

BOOK: Midnight Caller
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“I'm at the gallery. With Annabelle.”

There was a long silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was strained. “I'll be there in fifteen minutes. And for Christ's sake, both of you keep the door locked.”

 

The Taurus's beams threw light into the closed gallery as Trevor pulled up along the curb. As soon as Annabelle let him inside, his eyes zeroed in on Rain. His hard features silenced the apology she'd been about to give. Instead, she stood with her fingers hooked nervously in her jeans and waited for the approaching thunderstorm to let loose.

Trevor stalked toward her. “Want to tell me what was so important you had to ditch the officer assigned to protect you?”

“I wanted to talk to Brian—”

“Then call him on the phone.”

“Go easy on her, okay?” Annabelle came over to where they stood. “And lower your voice. Haley's asleep.”

Trevor's gaze shifted around the room. His anger receded as he saw his niece sleeping on a bench in a corner of the gallery, and he stepped over for a closer look. Haley's small thumb was poked in her mouth and her dark curls glimmered like a halo under the recessed lighting. Her frayed purple cat lay on the wood floor under the bench. “Where's Brian?”

“He and Alex went to a client dinner in Pensacola,”
Annabelle said. “They just called from the airport. They're on their way back now.”

Trevor ran his hand through his hair, visibly forcing himself to relax. Rain could only imagine the adrenaline that had been coursing through him since he'd learned of her disappearance. She knew the ride back to her house would be a long one.

“Want me to carry her out to the car for you?” Trevor still looked at Haley, who mumbled a few nonsensical words and flipped onto her stomach. The bench's padding gave out a soft
whoosh
as she kicked her sneaker-clad foot and fell back asleep.

“That's okay,” Annabelle said. “I've got a few more things I need to do here. Rain and I had a couple of drinks, so I think I'm going to have Brian drive us home. You two go ahead.”

She escorted them to the door. Rain didn't miss the long look that passed between the siblings, and she waited while Annabelle hugged her brother. As soon as she'd closed and locked the gallery door behind them, Trevor guided Rain to the sedan. He opened the passenger door and she slid inside. By the time he'd walked around the vehicle, she'd fastened her seat belt and sat with her hands folded on her lap.

“I've had a long day with the investigation. You scared the hell out of me, Rain.”

“I didn't mean to,” was all she could manage. He slid the keys into the ignition switch and brought the engine to life.

“Do that again and you won't have to worry about Dante,” Trevor muttered, although the threat held little steam. He pulled the car out and silence enveloped them. Rain leaned against the headrest, wondering where to go from here. After all she'd learned tonight, she wanted to reach over and touch him, to try to comfort him in some way. But he looked so rigid she feared he might break into pieces next to her.

The car left the Warehouse District and made the path
around Lee Circle. It passed the illuminated bronze-and-marble statue of the Confederate general, then headed toward the Lower Garden District. Within minutes, they were entering the residential area with its Victorian cottages and graceful town houses. Rain cracked the window and let the warm night air inside.

“Annabelle shouldn't have told you,” Trevor said finally. His voice was softer than she expected. He shook his head, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “I didn't want you to know about any of that.”

Rain didn't try to feign confusion. She looked at his profile in the shadows. “She thought it was important for me to know.”

“None of that matters now.”

“I believe it does.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but bright lights suddenly swathed the inside of the vehicle. A large pickup truck on oversize wheels had swung from one of the tree-lined side streets and was gaining on them. A double row of hunting lights was mounted on the truck's cab, and its powerful engine roared like a wild animal advancing on its prey.

“Hold on,” Trevor advised, accelerating. “I think we've got company.”

34

R
ain screamed as the truck bumped the Taurus hard from behind. The jolt caused the sedan to fishtail before Trevor regained control and steered it back on course. The monster vehicle revved its engine and cut right, its tires squealing as it raced up along Rain's side of the car. A black-haired male with dark-rimmed eyes sneered down at her from the truck's cab, one hand on the steering wheel and the other around the long neck of a beer bottle. He threw it and laughed as it shattered on the sedan's windshield.

Trevor kept his eyes on the road. “Can you tell how many there are?”

“Three, I think.”

The truck veered into their lane, striking the car at the passenger door where Rain sat.

“Son of a bitch!” Trevor yelled as they were forced into the path of an oncoming car. A horn blared and he floored the gas pedal, managing to avoid a collision and get back in front of the truck. Rain turned as much as her seat belt would allow and saw the vehicle pressing up behind them.

“Get ready,” Trevor warned, watching in the rearview mirror. He swung the sedan into a wide left-hand turn. It shot down a side street, but the truck seemed magnetized to follow.

Houses whizzed past in Rain's peripheral vision. The truck remained glued to their bumper, swerving dangerously on the narrow, one-way street. Trevor released the snap on his holster, preparing for the worst.

“Do you think they have guns?”

He looked again in the mirror. “I hope we don't have to find out.”

They were headed away from the Garden District, the homes becoming more run-down before finally being replaced by cinder-block industrial buildings and metal warehouses. As they neared the freight docks lining the Mississippi, Rain could see large cranes rising up from the ships, looking like dinosaurs against the black night. A short distance ahead, a bridge crossed over one of the canals feeding into the harbor. The truck was bearing down on them again as it gathered speed for another attack.

“Hang on!”

This time, Trevor turned the steering wheel just before impact so that the larger vehicle clipped the corner of the sedan's back instead of landing a full-on hit. Rain closed her eyes as the car spun wildly before he brought it to a stop on the sandy shoulder of the road. But the truck had gained too much velocity. It lurched and flipped, crashing through the guardrail with a sickening noise.

“You okay?” Trevor ran his hands over her, checking for injury.

“I think so.”

“Stay inside the car. Use your cell to report the accident.” He released his seat belt and got out.

Rain dug her phone from her jeans pocket and called 911 as Trevor climbed over the crumpled guardrail. A second later, he vanished. Once she'd made contact with the emergency dispatcher and been assured help was on the way, she tossed
the phone onto the seat. She couldn't just wait. Rain set off in the direction Trevor had taken.

Reaching the guardrail, she scanned the area. Lights from the bridge only partially illuminated a field of kudzu that separated the road from the base of the overpass. The truck had crashed into one of the bridge's steel support columns. Its front was mangled, and its cargo bed hung precariously over the edge of the retaining wall where it had knocked out a portion of chain-link fence. The drop into the canal below would be deadly, assuming any of the passengers were still alive. Trevor was a dozen or so feet from the truck, kneeling over a lifeless form. Even in the dark, Rain could see it was a female.

Picking her way through the knee-high kudzu, she shuddered as a large nutria scurried in front of her. The feeble light from the bridge gleamed off its oily back before it disappeared into the undergrowth. She neared the wreckage just as the driver stumbled out through the front passenger-side door. His hair partially concealed his ghostlike face and a cut above one eyebrow leaked a thin trail of blood. He saw Rain and began to run away.

“You can't leave!” she shouted, her words dying as she glimpsed the handle of the gun sticking out of his pants. But instead of using it, he scrambled past her and faded into the shadows. Rain's pulse thrummed in her ears. The grinding sound of metal against metal caught her attention as the truck shifted slightly, its rear end wobbling over the canal.

“You shouldn't be down here,” Trevor said as she reached him. Rain looked at the bloodied woman who appeared to be in her very early twenties. Her black hair was spread out on the ground like ropes. Her eyes were closed, and her face and scalp were badly cut.

“She was thrown from the vehicle. It looks like she went through the windshield.” Trevor was using his dress tie as a
temporary bandage to stanch the flow of blood from a deep gash on her right arm. Rain's stomach turned.

“She's breathing, but not very well.” He stood. “Watch her. There's another male in the backseat of the cab who's not responding to my voice.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I may have to get inside to get him out.”

“Trevor, that truck could fall!”

Ignoring her, he tried the back door, but it was jammed. He rapped on the window. “Can you hear me? Wake up!”

Finding a large rock on the ground, he covered his eyes with one hand and looked away from the truck as he shattered the window. He reached inside.

“He's got a pulse, but it's weak,” Trevor said as Rain caught up to him. She grabbed his arm.

“You can't go in there. The other guy had a gun! The cab's not stable—”

“Go back to the girl, Rain. You may have to do CPR if she stops breathing. Do you know how?”

She nodded. Their eyes held in the darkness. Then she returned to the body that lay in the grass. The female was still unconscious, but her chest moved in and out. Rain watched Trevor climb inside the truck through the open front door. A scream rose inside her throat as it groaned and moved like an awakening beast.

An eternity seemed to pass while he worked inside the cab to free the remaining passenger. Each time the truck shifted on the ledge, Rain said a fervent prayer. In the distance, she heard the wail of emergency sirens. Help couldn't arrive soon enough.

To her relief, Trevor finally emerged dragging the dead weight of the unconscious male as the first maroon streaks of light shot across the sky. But he'd no sooner gotten him out of the vehicle when it gave way with an awful metallic
scrape against the concrete barrier. The truck slid over the ledge, followed a few moments later by a thunderous splash. Rain ran to where Trevor knelt next to the victim.

“They're here!” she cried. The first paramedics were already rushing toward them carrying a gurney.

“I think he's stopped breathing.” Trevor tilted the male's head back to open his airway. He looked young, the same approximate age as the female. Trevor bent over him, listening for his breath.

“We'll take over now. You folks okay?” an African-American paramedic asked as he dropped down next to Trevor.

“We're fine,” Rain answered.

“Were there any occupants still inside the vehicle?”

“They're all out.”

She touched Trevor's shoulder, and he stood as another paramedic arrived. He watched them begin resuscitation efforts.

“I took a chance moving him.” Trevor pushed his hair from his forehead. “If he has a spinal injury, I could've made it worse.”

“You did the right thing. The truck was ready to fall at any second.” Rain took his hand, and she felt his fingers curl around hers. She turned to gaze at the injured female who was receiving assistance, as well.

In the canal below them, a boat belonging to the harbor police appeared. Its spotlight lit a section of the canal as it circled the water. Rain peered into the murky depths where the vehicle had already sunk. Anxiety coursed through her as she realized how close Trevor had come to being inside the truck when it went over the wall. She grasped his hand harder.

Along the road, squad cars and ambulances now sat with their lights flashing. A news van had also arrived. One of
its crew panned the area with a video camera he held on his shoulder.

“Did you get a good look at the driver who ran past you?”

“Good enough that I'd recognize him again,” Rain said. “He was older than the other two. Maybe early thirties. He had a cut over his right eye that could help identify him.”

They walked back through the broad-leafed kudzu. An officer approached as they reached what was left of the guardrail. Trevor presented his shield and described the accident, explaining that the truck had been attempting to force them off the road when the crash occurred. He also stated that the driver was armed and had left the scene on foot. As she listened, Rain tried not to think about whose orders the goths had been following, but she couldn't shake the image of Armand Baptiste from her mind.

“The driver took a shot at you?” the officer asked.

Trevor shook his head. “He was more interested in getting away.”

“I don't suppose you got the tag number off the truck?”

“The plates were removed.”

The cop nodded and spit on the ground. “As soon as we get the vehicle out of the water, we'll be able to track ownership through its VIN number. You think this is related to your investigation into the serial murders, Agent?”

“There's no doubt.”

They paused as the injured young woman was rushed past them on a gurney and loaded into one of the ambulances. Paramedics still worked on the male.

“Which hospital are they going to?” Trevor asked.

“All Saints, most likely.” The officer stomped off, yelling an order at the news crew to move back. Rain and Trevor were left standing alone. She wanted to get him out of here, before the accident ate at him further, and before the reporters
recognized either of them. The car Trevor was driving had been dented and scraped, but to her knowledge it was still operable.

“It's going to be hours before they'll know who the truck belonged to,” she said. “You know that.”

Trevor looked exhausted.

“I'm sorry about the way I acted tonight, about the whole deal with D'Alba,” he admitted quietly. “Sometimes I don't understand myself.”

He gazed onto the water as the harbor patrol made another wide arc in the canal. “When the cop called and said you'd disappeared, all I could think about was our last conversation. What if I never had a chance…”

He stopped speaking, and Rain touched his face. “It's late. Just take me home, okay?”

Once they were out of sight of the others, Trevor put his arm around her. Rain felt his lips press against her forehead. She laid her cheek against his chest, shutting her eyes against the madness that seemed to be all around them.

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