Midnight Caller (34 page)

Annabelle must have sensed her thoughts, because she added, “I think seeing me is upsetting him.”

“He's disoriented. He's just confused about what's happening,” Rain reassured her. But in that moment, the courage and faith Annabelle had shown throughout the past evening appeared to be slipping. It was clear how much she loved her brother.

“Have you checked on Haley yet?” Rain asked. She knew a neighbor of Annabelle's was watching the little girl. “You've been here since last night.”

She wiped her cheeks. “Brian's coming in another hour. I'll go then.”

“Go ahead and go now. I'll stay with him.”

When she saw the worry in Annabelle's eyes, Rain promised, “I won't let them throw me out. To hell with the ICU rules. I've already dealt with a serial-killer vampire. I can handle a bossy nurse.”

Annabelle's vision lingered on the rise and fall of Trevor's chest.

“He responded to you,” she said. “As soon as he saw you, he was able to let go. He needs you, Rain.”

She picked up her purse and put its strap over her shoulder. “The ICU is supposed to be family only. Just so you
know, I gave your name at the desk this morning as Trevor's fiancée.”

They shared a long look and then Annabelle left the room. Shifting her gaze back to Trevor, Rain took in the paleness of his features and the shadows under his eyes. He looked fragile to her, immersed in a labyrinth of tubes and wires. She was achingly aware that he stood on the edge of a dark abyss. Holding his hand, she vowed not to let him fall.

“I
hope we're not talking shop in here.”

Trevor looked up from the hospital bed to see Annabelle in the doorway. Considering the guilty looks being exchanged between Sawyer Compton and Eddie McGrath, who were also in the room, he figured there was little point in denying a briefing was taking place.

“Your sister's gonna have my hide if you don't say something,” Sawyer muttered. “She warned me to go easy on you.”

“I asked them to come, Anna.” Trevor's voice was raspy from the tube that had only recently been removed from his throat. “I needed details on the case.”

“You
need
to rest.” Taking the chair beside the bed, her expression reflected concern. “You've only been out of ICU for two days.”

“I'm okay.” Nearly a week had passed since the surgery. Although Trevor still felt like hell, his desire for information currently overrode his need to recuperate. He'd called both men and asked them to come by and fill him in on what had been pieced together on Carteris so far. As he already knew, the surgeon's lecture circuit matched the time line of the killings in other cities. But his DNA had also now been linked to
the victims, indisputably establishing him as the killer of all seven women. Not to mention, the remains of two additional, unidentified bodies had been located in the swamps near the bayou cabin.

What was less clear, however, was Carteris's past. The further the story went back on him the murkier it got, beginning with a discrepancy about the year of his graduation from Oxford Medical School. The date supplied by the university and the one in Carteris's personnel records at All Saints differed by nearly two decades. As for a birth certificate, there was none on file. The Louisiana Office of Public Health listed it as
officially misplaced.

Trevor thought of the man who'd been at the center of his manhunt for well over a year and a half. The same man who'd abducted Rain and stabbed him. He'd seen Carteris with his own eyes and he was damn sure he'd been nowhere near eligible for a senior citizen's discount.

“We're trying to get access to Carteris's records prior to his return to the States two years ago,” Sawyer said, picking back up on the discussion. “But since his research took place at private institutions in Europe and Asia, they've been less than forthcoming about what he was working on.”

“What about the autopsy report?” Trevor asked.

“Based on the condition of the internal organs, the M.E. estimates Carteris was in his early forties. And despite his fondness for ingesting human blood, he was amazingly disease free. But he'd definitely had some cosmetic work done. A rhytidectomy, which is a fancy word for a face-lift. I have to admit that kind of plastic surgery seems out of the ordinary for a man that young.”

“But it's not unheard of.”

“Did you tell him about the wife?” McGrath interjected.

Trevor shifted his attention to the detective. “Carteris's? What about her?”

“There was no car accident,” McGrath said. “The medical file says she died of a massive hemorrhage. Apparently, she
fell
from a balcony nine years ago and was impaled on a garden stake. The Thai authorities ruled it an accident, but who knows for sure.”

Sawyer leaned against the robin's egg–blue wall of the private room. “If I had to guess, I'd say Carteris was bedbug crazy and not some kind of superfreak.”

Still, Trevor knew about the things Carteris had claimed to Rain during the time he'd held her captive. Although he concurred with Sawyer's assessment, Carteris's boasts had to be unsettling to her.

“Have the labs come back on the drugs found in Carteris's bag at the cabin?”

“They're still running analyses,” Sawyer said. “But the preliminary report indicates high-dosage antioxidants, steroids and injectable HGH, or human growth hormone. There were also two compounds they've been unable to identify that might be part of Carteris's research. Trace amounts of them showed up in his bloodstream. Which again points to crazy, not immortal.”

“So how do you account for the graduation date from Oxford?” McGrath asked.

Sawyer shrugged. “Maybe the university got the dates messed up, or there was another Christian Carteris who graduated years earlier. Maybe our guy assumed the original Carteris's identity. There're still a lot of questions.”

“All I know is what I saw at the surgeon's house.” McGrath adjusted the sling that held his injured arm. “The letters were addressed to Desiree Sommers, and they were postmarked over thirty years ago. They were
love letters,
signed by Carteris.”

“Letters that no longer exist,” Sawyer reminded. “They
burned with the rest of the house. There's no way to test their authenticity.”

“Okay, then what about the photo from the cabin? The lab can't find any indication of it being doctored.”

Sawyer crossed his arms over his chest. “Don't tell me you're buying this ageless-vampire thing, Detective McGrath? Because you sound like you are.”

“All I'm saying is maybe there're things we're not supposed to know. Things that defy explanation. This
is
New Orleans, Counselor. Weirder stuff has happened here. Tibbs would've chalked it up to some bad juju. He'd remind us Carteris is dead—case closed—and that we've got plenty of live dirtbags to focus on.”

“Thibodeaux was a good cop,” Trevor said.

“Damn straight.” McGrath's expression was somber. “And he's probably pissed right now Carteris got the jump on him.”

One thing was for certain, Trevor thought. Whoever or whatever Carteris was, he'd taken too many innocent lives.

“One more issue.” Sawyer switched topics. “You should know D'Alba's out on bail. He's been arraigned on conspiracy to commit assault.”

Trevor's jaw tightened. “I hope the D.A.'s going after him.”

“Like flies on…” Sawyer's words faded as he glanced at Annabelle. “You know.”

Coughing, Trevor grimaced at the flare of pain in his chest.

“We should let you get some rest.” McGrath moved to the door. “I've got somewhere I need to be, anyway. Tibbs's funeral is still going on. It's one hell of a party, Rivette. Shame you're missing it.”

Trevor was aware New Orleans funerals could last a week, particularly in the African-American community. He
imagined a parade being led by a full jazz band and boisterous memorial events taking place at the French Quarter bars. There was no doubt it would be a proper send-off.

Sawyer followed McGrath's exit, his fingers subtly brushing Annabelle's as he went past. In the doorway, he turned and said to Trevor, “Don't forget what we talked about.” Trevor nodded.

“You look terrible,” Annabelle observed once the men had left. She waited while he pushed the button that administered pain medication from the electronic console and laid his head back on the pillow. “I'm serious, Trevor.”

“When were you going to tell me about you and Sawyer?”

“He told you?”

“He didn't have to. I might be in a medicated cloud, but all the staring and touching has been hard to miss. He spent the last five minutes making cow eyes at you.”

“Sawyer doesn't make
cow eyes.
” She sighed as she folded her hands over her denim skirt. “I wasn't sure I was ready to tell anyone. I've just made so many mistakes in the past. Sometimes it's hard to trust myself.”

“What does Haley think about him?”

“She likes him. Even though she told him he has porcupine hair.”

The comment made Trevor chuckle. He winced as his sutures pulled again.

“Has Brian been here?” Annabelle asked once he'd settled back down.

“He came by. Early this morning.”

“Then he told you a gallery from Chicago called about a showing. Alex is teasing him that he's going to leave the South behind for big-city life.”

“I'm proud of him.” Trevor thought of Brian's skilled landing on the rural highway, and the way he'd trailed him into
the bayou instead of following orders to wait at the plane. Brian had saved Rain's life, as well as his own.

A space of silence filled the room. Standing, Annabelle fussed with an arrangement of flowers on the nightstand. “They're not going to be able to charge Dad with anything related to taking Haley since they were only a few miles away and he called to tell us where they were. To a jury, it would look like a grandfather making an innocent mistake. Sawyer's still pushing for aiding and abetting Rain's abduction, but he's doubtful on that, too, since he appears to be an unwitting accomplice. I asked him to let me tell you instead.”

Although it seemed clear their father was merely a pawn in Carteris's game, it didn't keep Trevor from wishing they'd have found a way to put him in jail where he belonged. If anyone deserved retribution for the unspeakable acts he'd committed, it was James Rivette.

Annabelle appeared to weigh her next words before speaking. “They're considering removing the statute of limitations on forcible rape in Louisiana. I know it's something they've talked about in the legislature before and it probably won't happen…but if it did, I'd consider pressing charges.”

When he peered at her silently, she added, “I want him to pay for what he did. To both of us. I should've been brave enough to do it years ago.”

“Anna,” Trevor said softly. His eyes held hers.

“I've never forgiven myself for lying about what happened to you, Trevor. If I'd only told the truth about what he'd done—”

“You were scared. You and Brian were trying to survive. I understand that.”

“Understanding isn't the same thing as forgiving,” she murmured.

Trevor studied her face. What he was about to say wasn't easy for him, but he knew it was time.

“My staying away from here…it hasn't been about anger. It's about me not wanting to remember.” He slowly shook his head. “I've tried like hell to forget about our childhood and every bad thing that happened to us. But every time I came back here…every time I saw you and Brian…the truth is, it all became real again.”

Trevor took a steadying breath. All the decisions he'd made over the course of his life now seemed questionable to him, and he fought a wave of regret. “I thought if I stayed away…I could have some kind of peace. But I realize now that all I've done is isolate myself from the people who matter most. I punished you and Brian because I wasn't strong enough to deal with the past. I'm sorry for that.”

She squeezed his hand. “Trevor, you're the strongest person I know.”

He stared at the plastic hospital-ID bracelet around his wrist.
Rivette.
It was a name he was tied to by blood, a connection that had proved hard to break. When he looked at his sister again, he saw the anguish in her eyes. Annabelle's suicide attempt. Brian's drug use and their mother's alcoholism. Family secrets had wound their roots around each of them, threatening to drag them down into darkness. Trevor had run from those powerful tendrils even as they clutched at him.

“Rain believes the memories you're having…she thinks therapy could help you.” Annabelle looked at him uncertainly. “Would you consider talking to her? If you're not comfortable with that, she can refer you to a different psychoanalyst. Even one in D.C.”

Rain. She'd been a constant presence during Trevor's time in ICU, soothing him each time the panic had seized him. Much of the events of the past week were foggy, but the care he'd seen in her amber eyes remained vivid. Rain had managed to pull him through the worst of it, despite what
she'd been dealing with herself. He'd held on to her when everything else was spinning out of control.

“I'll talk to her about it,” he promised quietly.

Their intimacy was broken by the arrival of an orderly with a lunch tray.

“Can you believe me?” Annabelle chided herself. “I chased off your visitors and now I'm the one tiring you out.”

Once the orderly was gone, she pushed the mobile table to the bed, then lifted the tray's cover to reveal a bowl of yellow noodle soup, lime gelatin, a roll with a pat of butter in foil wrapping and an ice-cream cup. “The soft-food diet. How does your throat feel?”

“Like I swallowed razor blades.” He glanced at the tray's contents with disdain. “I'll take the ice cream. You can roll the rest back into the hall.”

Annabelle helped him raise the bed higher. As she did, her eyes lingered on the greenish bruise under his collarbone, visible in the gap of the cotton hospital gown.

“I can't believe that man shot you before he stabbed you,” she said worriedly as he peeled the lid off the ice-cream cup. “You're like a cat with nine lives, Trevor. And I'm afraid you've lost count of how many of those lives you've already run through.”

Thoughtfully, he scraped the wooden spoon across the ice cream's surface before speaking. “Sawyer offered me a job.”

Annabelle looked stunned. “Here? In New Orleans?”

Despite the positive press the FBI had gotten for closing the case on the serial murders, Trevor had been notified that he was being brought before the Bureau's Board of Professional Review. There was nothing SAC Johnston could do about it—his superior had told him as much by phone, even as he'd congratulated him for his hard work. Trevor had broken protocol going after Carteris alone in a hostage situation. While
that was a forgivable offense considering the outcome, he'd also endangered Brian, a civilian. But if he had handled it any differently, Rain would be dead now. He was certain of it.

While Trevor didn't think the infraction would end his career, it was possible he'd be placed on suspension, or even busted down from VCU to a field agent position. What Sawyer was offering was a chance to move forward, not take a step back.