Midnight Caller (30 page)

“Damn it, all I can hear is ringing! What about Tibbs?”

Trevor shook his head. McGrath winced. He looked around the chaos, and his eyes fell on the body covered by a sheet on the green grass.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered hoarsely. “That desk he was trying to open. It must've been rigged.”

This time, when the paramedic tried to push McGrath into a prone position on the gurney, he weakly complied. When he finally spoke again, his eyes were red and his voice was choked with emotion. “You get this bastard, Rivette.”

“We need to get him to the E.R.,” the paramedic said. Trevor nodded and took a step back. He watched as McGrath was loaded into the waiting ambulance. Around him, members of law enforcement walked around like shell-shocked refugees as firefighters began dousing the structure with hoses. Black clouds billowed from the top floor. Flames shot out through the windows and licked hungrily at the roofline. One thing was certain. The house had been set up to incinerate
quickly, as if Carteris intended to obliterate his tracks and take out as many people as he could in the process.

Thibodeaux, a good detective, was dead. Another name to be added to the growing list of victims. Trevor ground his hands against his watering eyes, feeling a cold weight settle inside his chest.

Carteris had vanished, taking Rain with him.

R
ain stared at the glass that sat untouched on the table in front of her. Outside, thunder rumbled not too far off in the distance. Nightfall was settling over the cabin like a cloak, replacing the bayou's hush with a nocturnal chorus of insects and frogs.

“You haven't tasted your wine,” Carteris admonished. He'd changed into pressed slacks and a white shirt he'd left open at the throat, its vee revealing dark chest hair.

“It's a rare Beaujolais.” He took a sip from his own glass and blotted his lips with a cloth napkin. “Try it. I think you'll find it enjoyable.”

Her head still pounded from the powerful sedative he'd given her earlier. “Why? What did you put in it?”

Carteris smiled. “My dear, if I wanted to sedate you again, I would. I'd hoped we might enjoy a light repast together. Is that too much to ask?”

He leaned forward. His pleasant expression faded and the green eyes behind spectacles transformed into cold stones. “Drink it. Or I'll pour it down your throat.”

Rain reached for the glass and brought it to her lips. Swallowing, she felt the liquid drop into the empty pit of her stomach. Perspiration trickled down her spine. Although Carteris
had managed to get the generator working, the small air-conditioning unit was hardly a match against the bayou heat. Candlelight danced inside the stifling cabin and created moving shadows on the cypress-paneled walls.

Satisfied she'd at least sampled the wine, he poured himself another glass. A plate sat on the table with cheese, foie gras and crackers. Apparently, the cooler he'd brought with them was well stocked. There was also something that appeared to be caviar, heaped in a small dish that sat in a pool of melting ice. He piled some onto a cracker and popped it into his mouth, chewing with relish. Rain realized she'd had nothing to eat since the beignets she'd shared with Trevor that morning, but the idea of food seemed ludicrous.

A flash of lightning reflected on the windows. The storm was moving closer, and would be upon them soon.

“The gown fits you perfectly.”

She pulled the edges of the negligee's low neckline closer together. Carteris had woken her from her drugged sleep only a short while earlier. He'd thrust the gown at her, allowing her to go into the small bathroom to put it on. It was made of pale creamy silk, although its delicate lace trim had yellowed with age.

“I bought it in Europe for your mother and had it tailored for her small frame. It's Chanel. It was quite expensive at the time.” He swirled the burgundy liquid in his glass. “I mailed it to her while I was in medical school at Oxford. She sent it back to me unopened.”

He rose from the chair and walked to a vintage turntable that resided on a low cabinet next to the wall. Carefully, he placed the needle on the vinyl LP, and Rain tensed as her mother's husky voice filled the room.

“You've heard this before? It's an original issue of the
Sanctity
album.” He gazed at the image of Desiree on the album's cardboard sleeve.

Rain felt a tremor pass through her, unable to forget what Carteris had claimed.
He'd been her mother's lover.
Her eyes slid discreetly to the framed photograph on the bookshelf. That image had been doctored. It was the only plausible explanation. She clung to the idea that he was just an insane fan whose deluded mind had invented a fantasy world centering around Desiree. It simply wasn't possible to think otherwise.

As if he could read her thoughts, Carteris moved toward her, carrying the album cover. “You still don't believe me, do you? I met your mother when I was a senior at Loyola, Rain. She was singing in bars in the Quarter, mostly for tips. She even worked topless a time or two. My parents thought she was a bad influence.
Nothing but pretty swamp trash,
they'd said. Which was why they sent me to complete my medical education abroad. They knew Desiree was a gold digger, and they wanted to keep us apart.”

His eyes met Rain's in the candlelight. “I was what one might call a late bloomer. Your mother was my first sexual experience. Our relationship was very intense, and I was madly in love with her. Obsessed, actually. The things she taught me…”

His words trailed off, and a look of distaste soured his features. He laid the album cover down. “Of course, once I was out of the picture, it didn't take her long to forget me. She took up with Gavin Firth almost immediately. He was already quite famous, and supposedly, he'd come to New Orleans to jam with the blues greats. Desiree saw an ideal opportunity. Firth could help with her career—his connections could make her into a star. Your mother was always a user, Rain.”

He reached out, grasping her jaw and tilting her face upward. “You have her delicate features, you know.”

“I'm not her,” she managed to say, her voice unsteady. “Surely you understand—”

“Get up.”

Shaking almost violently, Rain complied. She was once again made aware of Carteris's stature. He stroked the column of her throat, and her pulse fluttered under his fingers as he applied light pressure against the main artery.

“Blood is the key to everything. I'm a wealthy man. How do you imagine I became so?”

“Your family had…money,” she stammered. “You're a cardiac surgeon—”

“That's no more than a sideline to me. Have you ever leafed through one of those celebrity magazines and wondered how an actress nearing her fifties could look as young and fresh as a twenty-year-old ingenue?” He paused for several weighted seconds. “There's amazing secret research being done. I'm considered a pioneer, and my work has made me a fortune.”

His thumb brushed over her bottom lip. “I could've kept Desiree young and beautiful forever, too.”

“How old
are
you?” she whispered.

“How old would your mother be if she was still alive?”

Rain fought every instinct she had not to struggle as Carteris slowly bent his head and kissed her. She remained perfectly still, not resisting but offering no reciprocation. Finally, he broke contact and sighed. She jumped as the first fat raindrops smacked the tin roof.

“The storm is here,” he announced, picking up his glass. “Bring your wine. We'll finish our drinks on the porch.”

She had no choice but to obey. Rain claimed her goblet in trembling fingers, aware her acquiescence might keep her alive a while longer. She walked to the door he held open for her. Carteris, his claims about her mother, the bayou cabin—everything seemed like an unfathomable nightmare. Even her steps were sluggish and weighed down, as if she'd fallen into a terror-induced trance. Moving onto the narrow porch,
she felt the wind whip under the roof's protective overhang. It brought with it a cool mist that jolted her awake as the shower fell in silvered sheets around them.

A powerful explosion lit the bruised sky. The bolt struck somewhere nearby, lacing the air with a smell like scorched electrical wiring. But Carteris seemed not to notice. He gazed out at the ruined plantation house.

“Desiree loved storms. I suppose that's why she named you what she did.” He drained his glass and set it on the railing next to a can of wasp spray. The insects' nest remained tucked under the shadowed eaves, but no buzzing sound emerged. It looked like a dark, abandoned moon.

“Did you know I saw you once, when you were a toddler?” He removed his spectacles and placed them in his shirt pocket. “I was there that night. You were such a tiny thing. I decided to spare your life.”

Rain's eyes shot to his face. “What are you saying?”

He chose not to answer. Instead, he smiled wanly. “It's nearly nine o'clock. In a few hours it will be the anniversary of your mother's death, my dear.”

Her hold on the glass tightened. She had to know. “Will I die on that day, too?”

Another streak of lightning illuminated her captor's face. “That's entirely up to you.”

Carteris moved closer, caressing her bare arms. His weight pressed into her and his palms were hot against her damp skin. He spoke, his voice hard-edged. “I'm going to kiss you again. And this time you're going to kiss me back like you mean it.”

His hands sank into her hair. The kiss was rougher, deeper than before, nearly punishing as he forced his tongue inside her mouth. Rain cried out in protest, but the sound was swallowed up inside the cavern of his jaw.

“Desiree,” he uttered, sliding his wet lips to her throat.

She dropped the glass and shoved against his chest. The crystal shattered on the wood planks, splattering wine on the hem of her gown. Fumbling backward, she wiped her mouth to remove the taste of him. She couldn't go through with what he wanted. She'd rather die.

“We're going back inside.” His fingers clamped over her arm, but Rain grabbed the can of wasp spray. She aimed the stream of chemicals into his eyes. Carteris howled. He clawed at his face as she threw herself down the porch's stairs and into the deluge.

Barefoot, she ran across the clearing and into the foliage, heading toward the road they'd driven in on earlier that day.

His bellows of outrage followed her into the dark.

I
f she kept traveling alongside the gravel road, Rain reasoned it would lead her back to the rural highway where she'd hopefully be able to flag down a passing motorist. She'd been walking for what seemed like an hour, but the going was excruciatingly slow. Her feet were bruised and cut, and the gown's wet silk had molded itself to her body. Overhead, the last residue of light had leaked from the sky. Except for the periodic streaks of lightning, she found herself in darkness that was far different from anything she'd experienced in the city.

Pushing through the downpour, she tried to veer her mind from the menacing swampland with its alligators and other feral creatures. Rain only knew she'd prefer to take her chances with the wildlife than spend another moment with Carteris. His violent curses as she ran from the cabin made it clear that if he recaptured her, she'd pay for her transgression with her life.

I was there that night, you know. You were such a tiny thing. I decided to spare your life.

She couldn't stop thinking about the claims Carteris had made. He'd begun to sound both lucid and convincing.

No,
she reminded herself. None of it was possible. Carteris
was too young to have ever known her mother—it had to be the ravings of a psychopath. Her mind as muddy as the trail she walked on, Rain's thoughts shifted to Trevor. Sudden tears of longing filled her eyes. Did he know yet it was Carteris who'd abducted her? Was he still looking for her, or had he already accepted the probability she was dead?

The need to get to a phone forced her to move faster. But she'd made it only a few hundred more feet when the glare of headlights cut through the dark. Her heart froze. Rain fled deeper into the brush lining the side of the road. She dropped to a crouch, barely missing the swath of light that sought her.

“Rain!” Carteris had the driver's-side window of the Escalade rolled down. Rocks crunched under its tires as it rolled forward. Had he seen her? The hair on her nape prickled as the vehicle came to a stop a short distance away.

Leaving the headlights glowing, Carteris killed the engine and climbed out. He began searching the foliage with a high-powered flashlight, moving closer to where Rain cowered as if he could smell her scent and her rising fear. She remained motionless, afraid to blink or even breathe.

“I'm already angry with you.” His words were clipped. “Come out now. Don't make this harder than it has to be.”

His beam landed on her precise location, blinding her. “This is your destiny, Rain. Don't you understand that?”

Rain took off into the woods. She ignored the sting of branches whipping against her face and arms, aware only of her pursuer's shouts and the wet slap of his shoes behind her. Adrenaline catalyzed her flight. She slid down a moss-slick embankment, trying to put as much distance as she could between them.

For a time, it seemed as though she'd lost him. The flashlight's shaft no longer followed her trail, and all she could hear was the sound of her own labored breathing. But Rain
continued running until she tripped over what must have been the upraised roots of a swamp cypress. She fell several feet before landing on her hands and knees in shallow water. A sharp pain jolted up her right wrist, and she bit back a cry as something slithered over her ankle.

“Rain!”

He must have heard the splash. Carteris's yell caused her to scramble up. Her wrist throbbing, she slogged her way to the stagnant pool's muddy bank. The odor of fermenting vegetation filled her nostrils and mosquitoes buzzed in her ears. Grasping at spindly roots, she worked frantically to pull herself up the slick incline.

Reaching the top, her fingers closed around something hard and smooth sticking up from the bayou silt. In the second-long flash of lightning, she saw that it was the bone of a human limb, the flesh picked clean from it by wild animals. Rain made a guttural moaning sound. The rounded cap of a skull peeped out from the wet ground nearby. A few clumps of long matted hair still clung to it.

Bile rose in her throat. She staggered to her feet just as the forceful blow came from behind. Rain tumbled onto her stomach, her hands sinking in mud. Dizzy, she turned her head and saw grime-covered shoes. Carteris trained the yellow circle of light on her face.

“Running from me is a stupid thing to do.”

She screamed as he grabbed her hair and yanked her roughly to her knees. Her efforts to fight him were futile. He hauled her up and began half dragging, half carrying her to the waiting SUV.

 

Returning to the house on Prytania felt like a mortal wound. Trevor stared at the kitchen counter, which still held their breakfast plates from early that morning. Exhausted, he rubbed a hand over his face. He'd let his guard down, allowed
his father and his past to distract him long enough for Carteris to make his move. God only knew what was happening to Rain right now, or if she was even still alive. They had nothing working in their favor except an APB on Carteris's vehicle. Feeling as if he was drowning, Trevor closed his eyes.

Eventually he became aware of Dahlia's purr. She'd sprung onto the counter, and he stroked the cat's silky head before getting out a can of food from the pantry and feeding her. For a time, he stared out the window over the sink, lost in his own helplessness as raindrops trailed down its darkened pane. Then he dialed into Rain's voice mail system, using the pass code he'd gotten from her service. He listened to the message left by Oliver Carteris shortly before his death.

I've gotta talk to you…fuck. Just pick up the phone…

Had he been trying to warn her?

Carteris's travel records had confirmed Trevor's suspicions. The surgeon's lecture circuit over the past eighteen months meshed with the time line of killings in the other cities. Not to mention, one of the hair strands found in the Mercedes was a match to Cara Seagreen. He envisioned Oliver in New Orleans, scanning the goth clubs and hangouts, searching for prey to take home to his father. With his exotic good looks and Carteris's pricey sports car, it probably hadn't been a difficult task.

His cell phone rang. He withdrew it from his pocket and answered.

“Agent Rivette? This is Sandra Bellamy, a research assistant at the FBI field office. I thought you'd want to know we had another sighting of a black Cadillac Escalade. This time near Vermilion Parish in the southwest part of the state.”

Trevor shifted the phone to his other ear, hopeful this one had more significance than the twenty others reported since an alert had been issued statewide on the news. “The plates matched?”

“The caller didn't get a look at the numbers. But he says the vehicle was a late model, with halogen fog lamps and aluminum wheels. The total package.”

“Did he see the occupants?”

“Only the driver, sir. A white male. He wasn't sure if there was anyone on the passenger side. The caller was a farmer parked on the side of the road where he'd gone to check crawfish traps. When he saw the news tonight, he thought he should call.”

Trevor released a breath, knowing the sighting was a long shot. “Any idea where the vehicle was headed?”

“Just into the bayous. Geographically, there's not much beyond that point except wetlands.”

“Sandra, can you run a check to see if the Carteris name is linked to any property in that part of the state? Check the suspect's mother's maiden name, too. It's Benoit.” He spelled the surname and heard the rapid click of a keyboard through the phone.

“I'll have to access the tax-assessor records for each of the parishes in that area,” she said. “It might take a while.”

“Just do it as fast as you can.” Disconnecting the phone, Trevor walked through the parlor and into Rain's office. He turned on the mission-style lamp and thought about what McGrath had told him outside the burning mansion. Just before the bomb had detonated, the detective found love letters Carteris had supposedly written to Desiree Sommers. But the math didn't add up. The correspondence all bore postmarks from the seventies. According to the hospital's personnel records, Carteris was forty-three years old. Which meant at the time the letters were written, he couldn't have been much more than a child.

None of it made sense. To make matters worse, those letters were gone now, destroyed along with whatever else might have been inside the residence.

Dropping into the chair behind Rain's desk, he turned on the computer. It didn't take long to locate the notes from her sessions with Oliver Carteris. Ten minutes later, however, he'd found no clues and certainly nothing to indicate that Oliver might have been involved in anything as serious as murder. His mind reeling, Trevor lowered his head into his hands.

A short time later, a soft knock caused him to look up. Brian stood in the office doorway. His dark hair and striped polo shirt were damp from the downpour outside. He held a set of house keys in his hand. “You left them in the door.”

“They're Rain's,” Trevor said quietly. “I took them from Annabelle's this morning.”

“Alex has a set, too. He thought I should check on Dahlia.”

And on you,
Brian's blue eyes seemed to say. Trevor shook off the concern he saw on his brother's face. “Alex is awake?”

“He's got one mother of a headache and he's worried sick about Rain, but the doctors think he'll be fine. They're keeping him a couple of days for observation.” Pausing, he stepped farther inside the room. “The explosion at the surgeon's house was on the news tonight. They're calling him the prime suspect in the murders. You were there, weren't you?”

When he didn't answer, Brian continued, “They said people were hurt, and a detective was killed. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Trevor said. But after a moment, he admitted, “I don't know.”

He ran a hand through his hair, unable to hide his fear and frustration. Getting up from behind the desk, he walked to the window and stood with his arms crossed over his chest. After a moment, he felt Brian squeeze his shoulder. The supportive gesture was almost more than he could bear.

“This isn't your fault—”

“The hell it isn't,” Trevor replied, his throat tight. “The
whole thing with Dad this morning was a setup. I walked right into it.”

“What were you going to do? He had Haley. You had no reason to think—”

The digital shrill of Trevor's cell phone halted Brian's words. Trevor looked at the number on the screen and flipped open the device. What Sandra Bellamy told him gave him a flare of hope.

“What is it?” Brian wanted to know once he'd completed the call.

“There're several hundred acres of rural property near Vermilion Parish registered to Myrna Benoit, Carteris's mother. She died several years back, but Carteris has been paying taxes on it since. Someone called into the hotline earlier today, claiming to have seen a vehicle matching Carteris's headed in that direction.”

“Do they know where the property is?”

“Somewhere in east Jesus, out in the bayous.”

“That's
west
Jesus, actually,” Brian murmured.

“Either way, there's not even a postal address. They're trying to pinpoint a location.”

The cell phone rang again. Trevor answered it quickly, expecting it to be the research assistant calling back with additional information. But the voice he heard was distinctly male. Electricity snaked up his spine.

“Good evening, Agent Rivette. I apologize for the poor reception, but I'm in a rather remote location. Did you have a pleasant visit with your father this morning?”

Trevor gripped the phone. “Just tell me if she's still alive, Carteris.”

“She's very much alive. For now.”

He turned his back on Brian and strained to hear the surgeon through the phone's crackling static.

“I've been listening to the radio. I understand the FBI and
police made an uninvited visit to my house today. Your intrusion cost the life of a detective. Shame.”

“Did the news tell you about your son? He committed suicide. He hanged himself at the Ascension.”

The airwaves between them sizzled, and for several seconds Trevor feared he'd lost the connection. But then Carteris spoke again, his words sounding almost resigned.

“I'm aware of Oliver's death.”

“It's time to end this.”

“Indeed,” he agreed solemnly. “I have a proposition for you. I'm going to give you my exact location. If you come to me tonight, perhaps we can make some kind of arrangement. Are you willing to do that?”

Trevor went to Rain's desk. He wrote down the directions as Carteris gave them.

“One thing, Agent. Come alone. No SWAT team or assisting agents. I promise you, if I so much as see another human being I'll cut her throat without hesitation.”

“I want to speak to her,” Trevor said.

“You're in no position to make demands.”

“If you want me to come out there, I need proof she's still alive.”

A second passed and he heard Rain cry out, her scream fading into sobs. He felt something break inside him.

“You should hurry, Agent,” Carteris said. “Before I get bored and start finding ways to amuse myself.”

The phone went silent. Trevor bowed his head, desperate to slow the pumping of his heart. He wanted her back. He had to find a way to get Rain out of this mess alive.

Brian spoke from behind him, reminding him of his presence. “Tell me you're not planning to go out there alone.”

“I have to.” Tearing the directions from the notepad he'd written them on, he folded the paper and shoved it into his
jeans pocket. He began to walk from the office, but Brian blocked him.

“Listen to me. You need to alert the authorities out there. Hell, take the entire FBI and the National Guard with you—”

“He'll kill her if he sees anyone else.”