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Authors: Kristine Mason

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BOOK: Celeste Files: Unjust
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“Are you suggesting that I brought Denis into my life?”

“Not at all. I’m suggesting that your fear of him has weakened you. Combine that with the ridiculous amount of strain you put yourself under, and your negative attitude, it makes sense that he’s able to shove aside your free will and use your body as he pleases.”

“Oh, my God. That’s why he wants me to meet with Gabe. He’s made it clear that he wants his revenge,” Celeste said. “He could take over my body and force me to kill Gabe.”

“You can’t see that man, Celeste. Not until you have Denis under
your
control.”

“How do I do that? And how do I get rid of him if I don’t give him the revenge he wants?”

“You could walk away from all of this and come home,” Maxine suggested. “Denis could eventually give up his pursuit of revenge once he realizes he won’t get it from over one thousand miles away.”

“I’m not allowing Denis to follow me home.”

“Then fight him.”

Damn, she wanted to punch the wall. On this issue, Maxine was of no use to her. The woman kept telling her to control and fight Denis. Other than telling her to turn off her life’s stresses and to change her attitude—which was easier said than done—Maxine wouldn’t say how to defeat her ghost. “Again,” Celeste said. “How?”

“You already know the answer. Denis has clouded your mind so much that you just can’t see it.”

“In other words, you have no clue.”

Maxine chuckled again. “You’re surly in the morning.”

“I’m not surly, I’m angry. I don’t know where my husband is, and I’m scared to death he’s going to leave me and take our daughter with him. I want this fucking ghost out of my life, and I want to help the women Denis…abducted. Oh, wow,” Celeste gasped, an idea clicking in place. “Maxine, you’re a genius.”

“Am I? Hmm. I thought I was clueless.”

“Sorry I snapped at you.”

“You’re fine. Now tell me why I’m a genius.”

“The women are my answer. How do you fight a ghost? With the help of other ghosts.” A car door slammed. Celeste stood, moved the curtain and looked outside. “John’s back,” she said, her nervous stomach twisting. “Before I go, do you really think I’m weak-minded?”

“I never called you weak-minded. You’re a strong woman, who has control issues. Which is why it amazes me that you’ve allowed the dead to control your body. Your weakness is that you think the spirits are more powerful than you, and they’re not.”

“And my stress and negative attitude make me vulnerable.”

“Darling, I don’t believe you have a negative attitude, that was the wrong word to use. You’re realistic about life. During the months I’ve known you, the only time I’ve sensed negativity—and sometimes resentment—is when we’re dealing with your gift. It’s not going away. If anything, I think it’s becoming stronger. Only you can control it.”

“So I’ll either have to accept what I’ve been given, or end up a miserable, lonely old woman surrounded by ghosts.”

“That’s no way to live,” Maxine said with a sigh. “Call me when you can.”

“I will,” she replied, just as John entered the room. She ended the call and set the phone on her lap. “Where’d you go?”

“For a drive.”

“I made coffee,” she said, and stood. “Do you want to talk?”

He shook his head. “You need to get ready. Jerry called me. Gabe wants to tell his story, but he’ll only talk if you’re in the room.”

I showed you what I am. Now I’m going to show you what I can do.

As Denis’s words haunted her, she took a quick step back. “I can’t do that. Denis wants me in the room with Gabe, and I’m afraid—”

Your weakness is that you think the spirits are more powerful than you, and they’re not.

“You’re afraid of what?” John asked.

“Never mind.” At this point, she doubted John wanted to discuss evil spirits, and how she could defeat them. Especially when she didn’t have a concrete answer, only a farfetched idea that might not work.

“I’d like to know. I also want to know what Maxine had to say about this.”

“She thinks the pressure I put myself under has made me vulnerable and weak, and that’s why Denis was able to control my body.” She looked away from the disbelief and anger in his eyes. “I don’t know if she’s right.”

“Did she say how to get rid of Denis?”

Celeste headed into the kitchen for another cup of coffee. “No,” she said, not ready to mention her idea of using other ghosts to help with
her
ghost. She didn’t want either of them hopeful when the dead women could end up being of no use. “Since I can’t do anything about my stress level right now, the only way I’ll see Gabe is if I’m in handcuffs.”

He laughed and shook his head. “How are we going to explain that one to Jerry and Nick?” he asked, but didn’t disagree, which led her to believe that he wouldn’t object to her finding somewhere else to stay while they were in Florida.

The thought of leaving him, of him wanting her to leave, hurt. Her nervous stomach became nauseous. She dumped her coffee into the sink, then took a water bottle from the fridge. “I’ll handle the detectives.” She headed for the bathroom to finish her hair and makeup. As she stood in front of the mirror, she once again fought the tears. Her eyes were puffy enough, and she honestly had no idea what she’d say to the detectives about the handcuffs.

“Why is your suitcase packed?” John stepped into the bathroom, his gaze locking on her packed toiletry bag. “I didn’t ask you to leave.”

“Do you really want to sleep with me?” she asked, and applied concealer over the dark smudges under her eyes.

“I’ll lock the knives in the trunk of the rental.”

Her anger spiked. “You realize how ridiculous that is, right? Do you plan on doing the same thing when we get back to Chicago?” When he looked away, she decided the hell with her hair and makeup, and shoved what was left on the bathroom counter into her bag. “I see.” She brushed past him.

He grabbed her arm. “You see what?”

“It’s a good thing our condo hasn’t sold, and it’s only in your name. Buying a house would’ve complicated the divorce.”

He tightened his hold. “What divorce?”

“Ours.”

“That’s twice in two days you’ve mentioned divorce,” he said, his voice low, angry. “I’m starting to think you want out of our marriage.”

“I don’t want out, I want to protect you.” She tried to pull away, but he kept her in place. “Let go. I need to change so we can leave.”

“I don’t ever want to let you go.” He pulled her closer. “Maxine said your stress is what weakens you and makes you vulnerable to Denis, correct?”

She nodded. “I don’t know how to change that. I’m not selling or closing the bakery. I’m certainly not getting rid of our daughter. I’m in love with the dog, and we’ve out grown our condo.”

“You didn’t mention me or wanting another baby as a trigger for stress.”

Because she’d already hurt him enough. “You’re fine.”

“You’re lying.” He gave her a slight shake. “Come on, Celeste. We’re supposed to be partners. If I’m not holding up my end of our marriage, or you need extra help, you have to tell me.”

When they returned to Chicago, the amount of work waiting for her would negate any fun they’d had during their vacation—not that they were having much fun. She could take care of it all, but some days were too overwhelming, to the point she wished she could wave a wand, go back to bed and wake up to her work finished and her problems solved. “Since we won’t be home until Monday evening, I won’t have the chance to go into the Sugar Shack. So, after I play with Olivia and give her a bath, I’ll need to catch up our bills and the bakery’s, go through the mail, answer emails. Tuesday, I’ll feel guilty for dropping Olivia off at the daycare, and will wish I could spend the day at home with her. If I could take the day off, we could play, take the dog to the park, do the laundry and bake cookies.” She released a wistful sigh. “But I can’t take another day off.”

“Who says? Why can’t you take Olivia into the bakery with you, check on things, then go about your day? You have a manager and an assistant manger now. What if you scheduled yourself to work twenty-five or thirty hours a week, instead of fifty or sixty? You’ve been skipping weekends now and then, and that’s been going fine.”

John was right about the weekends, and it had been nice to spend that time with him and their daughter. “Cutting my hours would help. It’d also save money on daycare.”

“Stop worrying about money.”

“It’s kind of hard when I pay the bills and we’re planning on buying a house.”

“We have no debt, except what you owe on the business equipment and our condo, correct?”

“Yes, but you want to buy a new car.”

“I said it could wait. We also each have a 401K and have started a college fund for Olivia. We have money in the bank, and could have afforded to take a vacation a long time ago if you weren’t so cheap.”

Her face heated. “I’m not cheap. I’m frugal.”

“You’re a miser,” he said with a small smile. “You squirrel away any extra money, put it in a savings account, then claim we’re broke.”

She smiled back. “I can’t help myself. I want to make sure we’ll never have to worry about money.”

“Celeste, there’s always going to be something to worry about. I know you’re under pressure, but a lot of it you bring on yourself.” He touched her cheek. “Cut your hours, pay the bills twice a week, hire someone to help clean the condo, and I’ll help out with the laundry.”

She lifted her brows. “I don’t know how I feel about a stranger cleaning our house, but it would be nice. As for the laundry, you can fold, but not wash.”

“You’re not going to let the cashmere sweater I
accidentally
washed go, are you?”

“You did buy me a new one.”

“Which upset you because of the money I spent.”

She really did have control issues. “I wasn’t after I wore it,” she said, and hugged him. “I’m so sorry this is happening to us. When we go home, I promise to work on getting rid of some of my stress.” She looked up at him. “We’ll be okay, right?”

He kissed her. “Yeah, we’ll be okay. But I noticed you still haven’t said anything about the baby we’re supposed to be trying for. I know that’s been on your mind.”

“I think we should wait,” she said, her heart breaking. She wanted another child, a brother or sister for Olivia. If she had it her way, they’d have four or five kids. She wanted a house filled with love, laughter and chaos.

“Wait for what?”

“Wait until we find out if we have to lock away the knives.”

His jaw hardened. “Don’t I have a say in this?”

“You were the one who thought we should give it another year.”

“I changed my mind. We’re eventually moving into a bigger house, I want to fill those rooms.”

“I do, too. Just not now.” She took a step back. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have a ghost haunting me. As it is, I’m worried about him following me back to Chicago and latching onto Olivia. I don’t want it trying to hurt you, or the baby we want to have.”

“What if Denis doesn’t go away?” he asked.

“He will.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. But adding more pressure by bringing up a baby isn’t helping. Hopefully meeting with Gabe and going through the rest of the pictures will help me come up with an answer. I can’t live with the constant fear of doing something horrible while I’m sleeping. Maxine said I need to fight him and let him know I’m the one in control.” She just hoped to God she was strong enough to do it. “I have to get ready,” she said, stepping into the bedroom.

John followed her, and leaned against the doorjamb. “I’m sorry I brought up the baby. You’re right, let’s wait until we’re back home before we talk about trying again.” He glanced to her packed suitcase. “One last thing,” he said, meeting her gaze. “Don’t bring up divorce unless you have papers for me to sign.”

When John left the room, she slumped onto the bed. Although relieved he wasn’t walking out on her, or expecting her to leave, she still worried about Denis. About the dead man hurting John.

Maxine told her she needed to fight, and Celeste would. She inhaled a deep breath, and stood. She wasn’t afraid of a ghost, she was afraid of losing her husband.

Chapter 12

THE HANDCUFFS SNAPPED around Celeste’s wrists. “Are they too tight?” Nick asked, and kept his warm palm around her forearm. “You really don’t have to do this. Jerry and I agreed to remove our weapons.”

Instead of making up a story to explain the need for the handcuffs, Celeste had chosen to tell the truth. Why not? The truth might sound unbelievable, but she couldn’t come up with a lie the detectives might buy. Besides, at this point she couldn’t care less what the detectives thought of her. They needed her to hear Gabe’s story, and she needed them to allow her to keep going through the photos of the dead women. They could be her only hope, and the only way she could send Denis where he belonged—hell.

“The cuffs are fine. I appreciate that you two are willing to work with me and my paranoia,” she said, forcing a smile. “Can John sit in on the interview?”

“Gabe’s attorney said it’s fine,” Jerry responded, then glanced between her and John, before settling his gaze on her. “We’re ready if you are.”

BOOK: Celeste Files: Unjust
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