Midnight Caller by Leslie Tentler Page B

with his hand.
    â€œTell Momma I’ll be down in a minute. I’m making a call.” His voice became clear again. “Sorry about that. I’m at home. Anyway, it turns out the vic’s parents were out of town and thought Cara was staying at a friend’s house, a classmate named Simone Bausell. This friend, and I use the term loosely, never told anyone Cara had disappeared while they were out clubbing. Both girls are underage and Simone didn’t want to get into trouble. So she lied to her mother, toldher Cara’s parents were back and the girl had gone home. Meanwhile, the vic’s parents return from one of those ocean cruises last night to find out their daughter’s disappeared. They called the police.”
    â€œWhich explains why no one was looking for a missing teen.” Trevor looked at the clock next to the bed. It was just past 7:00 a.m. Light leaked into the hotel room under the drawn curtains.
    â€œI got the M.E.’s toxicology report in my e-mail this morning, too,” McGrath continued. “The vic had a shitload of Ecstasy in her bloodstream.”
    â€œDid the friend say which club Cara disappeared from?”
    â€œApparently, Simone was pretty baked herself that night. Says she visited a string of clubs, as well as an illegal rave in one of the old mansions upriver. Really gettin’ her party on, if you know what I mean. She can’t seem to recall at what point she and Cara were split up, or where.”
    â€œYou believe that?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    A creaking sound came through the phone and Trevor envisioned McGrath shifting his large frame in his chair. “I’ve got three girls myself, Rivette. My oldest is almost the same age as the vic. It scares the hell out of me what kids are into these days.”
    â€œI’d like to interview the friend myself.”
    â€œThought you would. The mother’s bringing her into the precinct this afternoon. They’ve lawyered up, so they won’t be alone.”
    Trevor wasn’t surprised. “What about the vic’s parents?”
    â€œThey’re pretty upset, as expected. I met them at the morgue at five-thirty this morning for the ID.”
    â€œYou should’ve called me.”
    â€œWe’re working on this together, right? No point in nobody getting any sleep. I didn’t call Tibbs, either. He’s positivelycranky without his beauty rest,” McGrath replied. “By the way, the cross left in your car belongs to Simone Bausell. She let the Seagreen girl borrow it, along with the trampy clothing found at the crime scene.”
    â€œNice friend.”
    McGrath snorted. “Wait till you see her. She’s what Courtney Love probably looked like as a kid.”
    The roar of the room’s air conditioner kicked up, forcing Trevor to press the phone harder against his ear to hear the detective.
    â€œHas this been a pattern with the other vics?” McGrath was asking. “This lunatic leaving you trophies from the kill?”
    Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose. When his cell phone rang, he’d been dreaming, more a nightmare, really, and it was beginning to return to him in pieces. He worked to shut out the familiar images so he could concentrate. “Rivette?”
    â€œI’m still here. And no, it’s not the first time. I work with a partner sometimes, but the letters and packages have all been addressed to me. We’re lucky all he left behind last night was a necklace. The last time I got a ring through the U.S. Postal Service. It was still on the vic’s finger.”
    â€œJesus.” There was a brief silence before the detective spoke again. “Look, it’s Saturday. My youngest has a soccer game this morning at City Park, but I’ll meet you at the precinct this afternoon. Around one.”
    â€œYeah. Thanks, McGrath.” The phone went dead. Trevor peered into the shadows. The adage “No