Midnight Caller

by Leslie Tentler

  Trevor went up to the desk. “I’m looking for a woman brought in earlier—”

  The nurse held up a hand, the gesture making it clear she expected him to wait. Her eyes remained on the flustered Cajun. “Sir, I can’t understand a thing coming out of your mouth.”

  Frustrated, Trevor slammed his shield onto the counter. “Rain Sommers. Early thirties, assault victim. Where is she?”

  Giving him a wary glance, she adjusted her eyeglasses and consulted the computer screen. “Exam room eight. Follow the markers down the east corridor.”

  “He’s looking for someone, too. His daughter-in-law.” Trevor returned the shield to his pocket as he indicated the other man. His grandmother had used the same bayou dialect that was in essence a bastardized French, and he was surprised he could still pick up enough of it to translate. “She was flown here by helicopter after a car accident in Houma. He doesn’t think she had identification with her.”

  “Merci.” The man pointed to the screen and looked hopefully at the nurse.

  Trevor didn’t wait to see if the relative was located. He took off down the hall, scanning the windowed exam rooms as he passed.

  “Agent Rivette?” A uniformed officer with graying hair and a mustache spoke to him. Trevor recognized him as one of the policemen assigned to keep watch in Rain’s neighborhood during the day.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Looked like she was on her way back from yoga class. Even talked to her before she went in the house. He must’ve already been inside—”

  “Did it occur to you to check the house before letting Dr. Sommers enter?”

  The officer’s thick eyebrows clamped down over his eyes. “That wasn’t our assignment, Agent. We’re only supposed to sit outside and keep an eye out for anything unusual. Look, it was shift change and the only reason we were still out there is that I got a call from central. She’s lucky we heard her scream.”

  After a moment of staring at the officer, Trevor blew out a breath and redirected his anger onto himself. He’d finally gotten Rain to agree to a guard stationed inside the house, but he hadn’t scheduled the first shift until that evening. He should have gotten someone over there sooner.

  “The perp must’ve fled out the back door when he heard us coming in through the front,” the officer recounted. “We didn’t get a look at him. Units are still cruising the area, but he’s probably long gone.”

  “How badly is she hurt?”

  “She’s a little banged up, but she seems all right.” A young auburn-haired officer joined them. “We got inside before too much happened. She might’ve blacked out for a few seconds, so we brought her in to get checked out, just to be on the safe side.”

  “Where is she?”

  He pointed to an exam room at the end of the hall. “The detectives are with her now.”

  Trevor walked toward the room, cold fear still balled up inside him. He was all too aware of what could have happened if the officers hadn’t forced their way inside when they did. He stopped outside the door, where he could see Rain through a slit in the window’s closed curtains. She sat on the thin padding of an exam table, her legs dangling over its side. He swallowed hard at the faint bruises shadowing the slim column of her throat. Trevor passed a hand over his face, trying to keep his emotions in check.

  With heavy feet, he moved into the exam room. McGrath was busy lobbing questions at Rain while Thibodeaux scribbled in his ever-present notepad. She lifted her eyes to him. It was as if the composure she’d held on to throughout the ordeal began to crumble. Rain climbed down from the table and went to him, pressing her face against his chest. Trevor closed his arms around her.

  “I should’ve known,” she whispered brokenly. “The security system didn’t go off when I opened the door. I was distracted and didn’t notice…”

  “It’s okay,” he murmured.

  He met the detectives’ questioning glances over the top of her head. The room fell silent, except for Rain’s muffled sobs.

  Trevor stood outside the exam room with McGrath and Thibodeaux while an E.R. physician was inside with Rain. He worked to concentrate on what the detectives had learned so far, but the feel of her trembling in his arms had scattered him into what felt like a dozen pieces.

  “All I’m saying is the attack doesn’t fit the M.O.,” McGrath insisted.

  “You mean things like leaving the victim alive? Yeah, I noticed that,” Thibodeaux said in his usual caustic manner. “This Dante character is probably ticked as hell the cops interrupted his plans.”

  Trevor rubbed his forehead. “Was she able to give a description?”

  “Caucasian male, wiry build, around five-ten. He was wearing a ski mask.” Thibodeaux held up a finger. “And wait for this one. Blood-red eyes. I shit you not.”

  “Probably Halloween contacts.” Trevor had noticed a half-dozen people at the Ascension sporting the gruesome accessory. “Anything else?”

  “He had a tattoo around his right forearm that looked like barbed wire,” McGrath said. “She scratched his neck pretty good, too. We took a sample from under her nails.”

  Trevor stared at the closed exam-room door. He was thankful beyond words that Rain had fought her attacker and screamed for help. But something else nagged at him. He couldn’t imagine that Dante would have allowed such a mistake. He’d abducted six women without leaving behind a trace. Had he just been supremely unlucky this time?

  “The vic indicates her home-security system was engaged when she left earlier this afternoon,” Thibodeaux remarked, consulting his notes. “But I spoke with Forensics at the crime scene and they say the wires to the system weren’t cut.”

  “So the assailant knew her pass code?”

  “Or she forgot to turn the system on when she left the house and doesn’t want to admit it.”

  “Rain wouldn’t lie about that,” Trevor said. He didn’t miss the look that passed between the two detectives.

  There was a pause before McGrath spoke. “If you’re staying here, Tibbs and I are going over to the house in the Lower Garden District.”

  “I’m staying. You guys go ahead.”

  Thibodeaux stuck the dog-eared notepad in the back pocket of his trousers and glanced at the exam-room window. “She’s a little thing. Hard to believe she came out of this in one piece.”

  His nerves shot, Trevor watched as the men disappeared down the corridor.

  Although she didn’t look up, Rain felt the weight of Trevor’s stare as he entered the room.

  “They’re going to let me go,” she stated softly. “The doctor’s working on my discharge papers.”

  He moved closer, and Rain stared at her hands folded in her lap. Her body was sore, and the significance of what had happened had only begun to sink in.

  “Rain…I need to know who has your house’s security pass code.”

  His words caused her to meet his gaze. “You don’t think it’s someone I know—”

  “The system wasn’t tampered with. We need to eliminate any possibilities.”

  She blinked back the ache behind her eyes and tried to think. “There’s Alex. And David. There’s also a cleaning lady who comes in on Mondays.”

  And Oliver. Hadn’t he used the pilfered pass code less than a week ago to gain access to her home? Rain thought of the barbed-wire tattoo that wrapped around the man’s forearm. She’d have noticed something like that on her patient, she was certain of it. Besides, the height and weight didn’t come close to matching Oliver’s build.

  “Have you given your code to anyone else?”

  Rain shook her head. She remained silent as a nurse walked in and handed Trevor several papers, including a prescription for a light sedative, before leaving again. As he helped her slide off the exam table, she was cognizant of her disheveled state. She still wore her yoga clothes, although the halter top was stretched and torn, revealing her lace-edged bra underneath. Her lip throbbed where the man had struck her.

  She’d worn
a gray zip-up sweatshirt over her top on the way to the hospital. The garment lay across a swivel stool in the corner of the room. Trevor retrieved it and helped her into it, touching her as if she were made of glass. Once the jacket was in place, he carefully zipped it closed. Taking her hands in his, he frowned at her once-manicured nails that were now chipped and broken.

  “They took scrapings. They said I probably got his DNA.”

  Trevor nodded but didn’t say anything. When Rain looked into his eyes, she saw guilt reflected there.

  “This isn’t your fault. You warned me that I should have an officer inside—”

  “That doesn’t matter now. I’m taking you back to my hotel.”

  Rain released a shaky breath. “I’m going to the radio station. I’m doing the show tonight.”

  At first, Trevor appeared stunned into silence. Then he shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “I want to talk to that son of a bitch.”

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  He raked a hand through his hair, his blue-gray eyes as dark and turbulent as a stormy sea. “Because he’s angry, Rain. The cops messed up his plans, so he’s livid right now. You’d only antagonize him by going through with the show.”

  “You told me before he couldn’t reach me through the airwaves—”

  “No. Forget it.”

  “Use me,” she urged. “If he’s angry, he might let something slip that could lead you to him.”

  “You’ve been through too much already.”

  “I want to go on the air tonight. I need him to know he didn’t silence me. What do you have to lose?”

  He grasped her arms. The fear in his voice surprised her. “I could lose you. Do you have any idea how close you came—”

  His words stopped, although she knew what he’d been about to say. Rain was scared, too. But she couldn’t stand by and have another female experience the helpless terror she’d felt that afternoon. Dante had to be stopped. She touched Trevor’s face and willed him to understand.

  “I have to do this,” she said. “Unless you plan to physically restrain me, I’m going on the air.”

  23

  Heading down the hallway of the radio station, Rain could see Ella inside the broadcast booth. She lounged in Rain’s chair at the console, wearing a set of headphones and adjusting the microphone.

  “I was just…doing a sound check,” she stammered when Rain appeared in the doorway. Tugging at her short skirt, she rose from the chair. “We didn’t think you’d make it in tonight—”

  “Well, I’m here.”

  “But Agent Rivette contacted us from the hospital. He said—”

  “Rain?” David strode down the corridor. His eyes swept over her bedraggled appearance, and she self-consciously pushed back the hair that hung limply around her face.

  “Jesus, Rain.” He whirled on Trevor, who’d walked in from the reception area behind her. “She’s got bruises on her throat! Where the hell were you?”

  “He isn’t my bodyguard,” Rain interjected, but David continued his rant.

  “Let me get this straight. She nearly gets killed today, and you manage to drag her back in here? Don’t tell me you’re planning to put her on the air—”

  “For the record, I’m against this, D’Alba.”

  “Sure you are,” David scoffed. “Whatever it takes to get your man, right?”

  “So I’m not going on tonight?” Ella asked. Rain looked at David, unable to hide her surprise. When she’d said he should let Ella do the show, she hadn’t expected him to take her seriously.

  “Arbitron sweeps start this week,” he explained. “A live show does better than a previously aired segment. Ella’s a little green, but she’s got talent. She’s been taking night classes in speech and broadcasting, and I’ve been training her to act as a backup for a while now. Considering what happened today, I didn’t think you’d be here.”

  “I’m doing the show, David,” Rain insisted. “I have to. And I’ve got less than a half hour to prepare myself.”

  He studied her face. Then clearing his throat, he said, “Ella.”

  A pout formed on Ella’s mouth. “But you promised—”

  “Some other time.” Once the woman had stomped away, David released a breath. “Don’t disappoint me. I need a solid show tonight.”

  Rain nodded her understanding. She went into the booth and sat in front of the console. But despite her attempt to focus, she could still hear the two men in the hallway.

  “How badly was she hurt?” David asked.

  “Some minor cuts and bruises. The cops broke in before it got any worse.”

  “They get a make on the guy?”

  “Nothing beyond race and height. He had on a ski mask.”

  Rain didn’t glance up, but she could sense David’s eyes on her through the window. Her chest constricted at his next words.

  “No matter what you think, this goes beyond business, Rivette. I do care about her.” He paused. “I wonder if you can say the same.”

  David’s footsteps echoed down the hall. When Rain finally raised her eyes from the monitor, she saw Trevor watching her, his expression tense. He placed his palm on the window in a sign of support and left her to prepare for the show.

  The wit and candor that were the hallmarks of Midnight Confessions were there, making it sound to the listening audience as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Physically, however, the night was taking its toll on Rain. As she chatted over the air, as minutes of airtime stretched into hours, a single thought repeated itself in her head.

  Call me, you bastard.

  At a break in the live show, a song played out over the airwaves. Rain briefly covered her face with her hands. Five innocuous callers so far, including a transgender teen who was being bullied at school. She took a sip of water from the glass on the console, relieved her hand didn’t shake.

  “Rain? We can stop this anytime you want.”

  Trevor’s voice came over her headset, and she met his gaze through the window. Even with his presence, she felt like a lamb tethered to a post, waiting for the wolf to emerge. But it had been her idea to do this and she wasn’t backing down now.

  “I’m okay,” she replied. Overhead, the on-air light began to blink out its thirty-second warning.

  “We’ve got another call queued on line two.” This time it was David who spoke. He sat next to Trevor in the production room. “A college coed who’s thinking about moonlighting as a stripper to pay tuition. In her own words, ‘Mandy’s got a rockin’ bod and doesn’t see why she shouldn’t cash in.’”

  Rain made her decision in the final seconds before the show returned. This had to come to a head now.

  “We’re back with Midnight Confessions. I’m Dr. Rain Sommers,” she announced in a confident tone that belied her unease. “Before we go to our next caller, I have some advice for a special listener.”

  She pretended not to notice the way Trevor leaned forward in his chair, a look of caution in his eyes.

  “Dante, I want you to know you don’t have to be ashamed. Erectile dysfunction is a common problem for many men…”

  Ella stood behind Trevor and David, and her clipboard clattered to the production room floor. She stared at Rain in open horror as David mouthed the words holy shit at her through the glass window.

  “Rain, what the hell are you doing?” Trevor wanted to know.

  “If you’re listening, Dante, why don’t you give me a call? We can bone up on your treatment options. No pun intended, of course. I’m waiting to hear from you.”

  She pressed the button on the interface and put the would-be stripper on the air. “Dr. Sommers, my name’s Mandy and I’m a sophomore at NOU. Guys are always telling me I’ve got a really great body and I’ve been thinking…”

  It was nearly five minutes later when Rain pushed the microphone away with a frustrated shove. She removed her headset and tossed it onto the console. Despite her taunt,
Dante hadn’t surfaced.

  “Want to tell me what that was about?” Trevor leaned against the door frame. She’d seen him leave his post in the production room when the call with the college student ended and David cut to a block of ad spots.

  “That was me, pushing the warp-speed button,” she admitted miserably.

  Trevor appeared calmer than he did earlier, although admonishment still shone in his eyes. He continued standing in the doorway for several seconds, then walked in and pulled up a chair beside her. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I thought you were going to bait him. What you did was dangerous.”

  “I want an end to this, Trevor. Before he kills anyone else. I thought if I made him angry enough, he might not take the time to use a voice disguiser or a prepaid cell phone. Maybe he’d call directly from a landline, so you could trace his location.”

  “So you question his ability to…” Trevor failed to finish his statement. Instead, he shook his head. “Next time, could you let me in on the plan, so I can stop you?”

  “I didn’t have a plan. I was improvising.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  Rain rested her head against his shoulder. She was exhausted, and her body ached from the attack. Her memory of the event slammed into her. When she’d started to lose consciousness on the parlor floor, Rain recalled now that her last thoughts had been about Trevor. He’d have blamed himself for whatever happened to her.

  “There’s a caller on one of the private lines.” David’s voice broke in over the intercom, causing Rain to look up.

  “Is it him?”

  “He won’t identify himself, but it sounds like him. He wants to talk to you, but he won’t go on the air.”

  Rain’s heart rate accelerated. “Put him through.”

  “No way. I want this conversation on air—”

  “Put him through, D’Alba.” Trevor stood as he seconded the demand. “Now.”

  Rain stared at the flashing light on the console as if it were a ticking clock attached to a bomb. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted? She heard Trevor behind her, talking into his cell phone about needing a trace. Rain counted silently backward from ten before putting the call on speakerphone.