Midnight Caller by Leslie Tentler Page A

he confessed. “Everything’s going to shit.”
    â€œI didn’t know.”
    â€œOf course you didn’t. Do you think I wanted you to know what a mess I’ve made?”
    â€œIf there’s anything I can do—”
    â€œYou can renew your contract,” he said tightly. “You can forgive me for fucking Ella.”
    There was desperation in his eyes as he waited for a response. Hearing none, he drained his glass again. As he did so, Rain searched his face for some glimpse of the charming man she’d imagined herself in love with only a few months earlier, but he’d all but disappeared. After a short while, he reached for the decanter and splashed in another drink.
    â€œYou’re pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” he asked.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    David’s eyes glinted like a knife blade. “You shut me out of your bed, and now you’re holding my financial future in your hands.”
    â€œThat’s not fair.”
    â€œNational syndication means a lot of money.” The tumbler hit the counter with a sharp rap. “If the show takes off, it could mean a publicity tour, maybe a book deal, guest spots on TV talk shows—”
    â€œYou certainly have this all figured out.”
    â€œI do. At least I did. ” His face suddenly loomed near hers. “Damn it, Rain! How could you not want this? How could you not want us? ”
    He pulled her to him, his hands cupping her bottom so that she was drawn fully against his hips.
    â€œTell me we weren’t good,” he challenged huskily.
    â€œStop it.” Rain tore herself from his arms and took several steps back. Normally she could handle David, but she wasn’t used to him drinking so much. “I think you should go.”
    â€œI’m staying,” he stated flatly. “You shouldn’t be here alone tonight.”
    â€œI’ll be fine.” Rain walked to the wireless phone that hung on the kitchen wall. “You shouldn’t be driving, either. I’m going to call you a taxi.”
    He bridged the distance between them and yanked the phone from her hand, replacing it roughly in its cradle. “I don’t need a goddamn taxi.”
    She trailed him to the front of the house. David stared onto the darkened street. The cicadas’ chant from the garden had grown louder with the door open, and the moist heat of the New Orleans night filtered in and clashed with the house’s air-conditioning.
    â€œJust tell me you’ll think about Midnight Confessions, ” he said.
    â€œDavid.” Rain’s voice was soft. “I’m pretty sure my mind’s made up.”
    His eyes carried the weight of his words. “Whatever happens between you and me, Rain, I can deal with it. But the show is my last hope. I won’t let it go. I’ll do whatever I have to.”
    He walked to the Jaguar and drove away. Rain continued standing at the window long after she’d closed the door and locked it. Outside, a squad car rolled past. Its spotlight swept over the lawn as it conducted a safety check, ensuring nothing looked amiss.
    I won’t let it go. I’ll do whatever I have to.
    Whether David’s words were a threat, she wasn’t sure.

9
    T he ringing cell phone shattered Trevor’s sleep. He fumbled on the nightstand for the offending device and managed to flip open its cover.
    â€œRivette,” he mumbled hoarsely.
    â€œIt’s McGrath. Thought you’d want to know we got an ID on the Jane Doe.”
    Trevor scrubbed a hand over his face at the sound of the detective’s voice and sat up. “Who is she?”
    â€œHer name’s Cara Seagreen. She was a sophomore at St. Vincent Catholic in Jefferson Parish.” He paused, and Trevor heard a young girl talking in the room with the detective. “Hold on…”
    There was a muffled sound that Trevor assumed was McGrath covering the mouthpiece