Celeste Files: Unlocked (17 page)

Olivia tugged at her pants. Celeste looked down and saw that their daughter was hanging onto John’s jeans, too. “I think someone feels left out.”

John picked up Olivia. “Since we’re both paranoid, let’s agree that Olivia stays with one of us at all times.”

“How’s that going to work out when I have to head into the bakery and you have to chase after bad guys?”

“I don’t know,” he said, resting his cheek against Olivia’s curls. “But your dad does happen to own a private criminal investigation agency, and I do happen to work for him. If the police don’t give us the answers we’re hoping for, I predict CORE will be lending a hand to both the Milwaukee and Chicago PD.”

Us
. “Thanks for sticking with me on this and for continuing to believe in me.”

“Believing has never been a problem,” he said, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “Not understanding what you can do is. I love you and what we’re building together.” The love and sincerity in his eyes made her throat tighten. “You can’t change being psychic, but maybe I can meet with Maxine, too. Maybe she could tell me what to do if you’re in a trance, or the signs to look for before you go under one?”

“I think that’s a great idea. Maxine mentioned today that she’d love to meet you.” Relieved John was willing to take the extra steps to help her transition back into the psychic world, she moved to her tiptoes and gave him a kiss. “This means a lot to me. Thank you.”

Olivia passed gas, making a special moment all the more special. While her daughter giggled and John laughed, Celeste reached for Olivia. “On that note. How about I give Miss Stinky Pants a bath.”

“I’ve got it,” John said, shifting Olivia away. The movement was subtle. If anyone else were in the room they wouldn’t have noticed. But she had.

“Go relax,” she said, testing him. “You’ve been with her all day. I’ll take care of bath-time.”

He avoided her gaze and instead gave Olivia a loud raspberry at the crook of her neck. While her daughter giggled, John turned away. “You didn’t eat anything. Have some pizza, and
I’ll
take care of her bath.”

She stared at her husband’s retreating back, disappointment piercing her in the heart. He didn’t trust her to bathe their daughter, even with him home. She would never do anything to hurt Olivia.

The black figure surrounding Olivia’s blond head rematerialized. As she shook off the memory, she couldn’t shake off the resentment suddenly burning its way through her belly. For the unknown killer, for John and for her psychic gift that could put them all in danger.

Chapter 11

CELESTE PULLED THE tray of cinnamon rolls from the oven, then set them on the stovetop. When John was in town on Sundays, she liked to spoil him with a big breakfast. Since she was still irritated with him for making it clear he didn’t trust her to give Olivia a bath, she’d been tempted to
not
bake the homemade rolls. The only reason she had was because she’d wanted one and because Olivia liked them, too. John could eat a bowl of dry Cheerios, for all she cared.

“Something smells good,” John said, as he came into the kitchen carrying his tablet, which he’d been reading a book from all morning. “Are you making omelets, too?”

“Nope.” She turned toward the counter, then cracked an egg into a bowl. “You’ve got a choice between scrambled and scrambled.” Olivia tugged at the hem of Celeste’s sweatshirt. She looked down and grinned. “Does Livy want some eggs, too?” she asked, and held her leg out to stop her daughter from nearing the oven. “Hot.”

Her daughter smiled back and toddled backward toward John. While he put Olivia in the highchair, she went back to cracking eggs.

“Then I guess I’ll have scrambled eggs,” he said.

“I guess you have no choice.”

“Well, I can see this is going to be a pleasant day.”

“Pretty much.”

“Cut the crap, Celeste. You’ve been in a mood since last night. What’s the problem?”

She tossed eggshells into the sink, and faced him. “You really don’t know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked.”

John shouldn’t look so damned sexy in his old sweats and t-shirt. She shouldn’t want to kiss him after the way he’d acted last night. But she did. She couldn’t help herself. Despite that he’d hurt her, she loved everything about him.

She turned away and began scrambling the eggs. “The problem is that
you
gave Olivia a bath last night.”

“How is that a problem? You know I try to be a hands-on dad when I’m home. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Kind of strange, since you normally hit the couch and let me take care of Olivia’s bath.”

“I gave her a bath the other night.”

“You’re missing the point.” She turned away from the counter. “Yes, you help out now and then, but admit it. Nine out of ten times it’s my job to take care of Olivia.”

“You’re home more than I am.”

“And you’re coming up with excuses. I
know
why you did her bath last night. The fact that you didn’t trust me to do it…never mind.” How could she
not
blame him? She’d practically drowned herself in the tub the night before.

The stool he’d been sitting on scraped across the floor. Within seconds, he had his arms around her, his chest flush to her back. “I’m sorry,” he said, and kissed her neck. “Of course I trust you.” He turned her so she faced him. “Understand something. You didn’t see what I did. When I found you in the bathtub, under the water struggling…I don’t ever want to see that again. Spend as much time as you need with Maxine and do whatever you need to do to figure out what happened to Sandra and Tracy. I don’t care what it takes, as long as you find a way to control these trances. Okay?”

“Okay, but until I figure out how to control them, how do you want to handle Olivia? If she’s not at the daycare, she’s with me. And you’re supposed to go out of town again on Tuesday.”

“What if you were on the phone with your sister or me or whoever during bath-time? This way if something happens, they’ll know to—”

“Call 911?” She shook her head. “Sounds a little ridiculous and makes me sound crazy.”

“I prefer cautious to crazy,” he said, then touched her chin. “For the record, I love spending time with Olivia and helping you when I can.”

“I know you do. And I’ll promise to be cautious if you promise to not be paranoid.”

“Promise.” He gave her a kiss. “Are we good?”

She relaxed against his chest. “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Does this mean you’ll make me an omelet?”

She chuckled. “Don’t push your luck.”

He kissed her again, then plucked a cinnamon roll from the tray and placed it on a plate. “What time do you plan to go to the wake?” he asked, cutting the roll into small pieces.

“It’s scheduled from two to four, then six to eight. I know this sounds bad, but I’d rather go to the earlier showing and get it over with.”

“I don’t blame you. Since I have nothing going today, it doesn’t matter to me what time you go.” He carried the plate to Olivia’s highchair, then placed half the cut-up roll onto her tray. “Oink, oink,” he said, as Olivia shoved a handful into her mouth. “You must’ve gotten your manners from your mommy.”

Celeste laughed. “You better check yourself. I’ve watched you eat ribs.”

“They’re supposed to be messy,” he replied, just as her cell phone rang.

She pulled the phone off the charger and checked the caller ID. “It’s George,” she said, her stomach suddenly filling with nervous energy. “I hope he has some good news.”

While John took over the eggs, she stepped into the living room and answered the call. “Morning, George.”

“Morning. I spoke with Joe and I’ve got some news you’re going to be interested in, and a request.”

She sat at the edge of the sofa’s armrest. “Were they able to do Tracy’s autopsy?”

“That and more. The ME placed Tracy’s time of death somewhere between late Tuesday night and Wednesday morning. He found water in her lungs and confirmed that she’d drowned. The bruising along her face and chest indicated she’d been forcibly held under water. They’re still waiting on a full toxicology report, but so far no alcohol was found in her system.”

Memories of the black figure looming over her instantly resurfaced. “What about Tracy’s office. Joe said it was ransacked. Did they find any fingerprints, hairs, fibers…?”

“Nothing yet. They couldn’t tell what the killer was looking for in the office. But Joe didn’t like that Tracy died the same day as her mother. He contacted Chicago PD last night and they, in turn, contacted Sandra’s attorney. Like we talked about, Sandra had left Tracy twenty-five thousand dollars of her approximately eight hundred and twenty thousand dollar estate.”

“Wow. That’s a lot of money.”

“It’s a lot of motivation. Especially because the attorney claims Sandra had kept her will secret from her daughters. Those girls had no idea what she had or what they were going to get. Anyway, the attorney said Sandra had all the paperwork lined up for her cremation. Chicago PD confirmed this with the funeral home. Since the paperwork was signed and ready to go, Sandra was scheduled to be cremated Tuesday morning.”

“Was?”

“That’s right. Chicago PD reopened the case and they’re treating it as a possible homicide. I know the detectives working it. I spoke with one of them, guy by the name of Clay Garfield. They got a warrant to search Sandra’s house, but didn’t find anything that indicated foul play. Because Clay also doesn’t believe in coincidences, he tried to get a warrant to search the two daughters’ homes, along with Sandra’s ex-husband. The judge didn’t think there was enough probable cause, but agreed that Sandra’s body needs to be autopsied before she’s cremated.”

“Wait. She wasn’t given an autopsy to begin with?”

“Celeste, I worked homicide for many years and had my share of dealings with the county corner and ME. In a case like Sandra’s, it was up to the coroner to decide if an autopsy needed to be performed. The coroner didn’t think so and, if I’d been assigned to her case, I wouldn’t have requested an autopsy, either. Think about it. Dying woman in the final stages of cancer takes her own life. It’s cut and dried.”

“I understand,” she said. “When are they planning on doing the autopsy?”

“Clay wants to pick up Sandra’s body after the wake ends tonight, then bring the family back to the station for questioning. Since they’re doing a closed-casket memorial service tomorrow, the body won’t be missed and the service can proceed as planned.”

Oh, God. She couldn’t begin to imagine how Kelly was going to take the news. What was even worse, this was all her fault. One fuzzy vision could put Kelly and her family through hell. It could also give Sandra and Tracy justice.

Unless you’re wrong.

“Do you know who Detective Garfield plans to question?” she asked, ignoring her self-doubt.

“The two daughters and their husbands. If the ex is at the funeral home, I think he’ll be interviewed, too. If not, I’m sure the detectives will pay him a visit. I know I would.”

“Well, you definitely had interesting news for me,” she began, “so what’s the request?”

“I told you I know the detectives working this case. Clay and I go way back, same with his partner. Both are damned good at what they do. Clay’s also very open-minded. I told him you’re psychic and he wants you to help them.”

Her stomach did a little flip. She moved from the sofa’s armrest to sit on the cushion. “How can I help?”

“Clay wants you to go to the six to eight showing and for you to stay until the end. Once the wake is over, the police will take the body. He’s hoping you could…I dunno, get a read off the family.”

She rubbed her temple where a dull throb began to build. “George, I get readings off objects and have visions or trances. I can’t
read
peoples’ minds.”

“I get that, I think Clay does, too. But you know these people and could maybe pick up on their body language.”

“That I could do.”

“Clay also wants you to be at the station when he interviews the family.”

She froze. “No way. That I
won’t
do. I don’t want Kelly to know that I have anything to do with her mother’s body being removed from the funeral home.”

“Clay assured me that they won’t know. You’ll be brought into the station without their knowledge and sit in a separate room to watch the interviews through a one-way mirror.” He let out a sigh. “Between Tracy’s murder and what they’ve found out from the attorney, I truly believe Sandra didn’t kill herself. I truly believe in you, Celeste.”

While she appreciated that George had faith in her and her visions, taking part in what the detective had planned didn’t settle well with her. What if Kelly found out she was the reason the police had reopened the investigation into Sandra’s death and Celeste had been wrong this whole time? Or what if she was right and the killer ended up being Lea, or maybe Kelly’s own husband? Kelly’s family would be torn apart. But if she was right, Sandra and Tracy deserved to have their killer convicted and placed in prison.

“Well?” George asked. “Should I tell Clay you’ll help him?”

John walked into the room, his gaze probing.