Celeste Files: Unlocked Part 10

Once she'd backed out of the driveway, Celeste turned to George. "Sandra was murdered at some point on Wednesday. That's a fact and not something I pulled from the vision I had. This means Tracy could've been murdered sometime between Tuesday night and Thursday afternoon."

"From Chicago, it's a two-hour trip to Milwaukee." George pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "If you're right about Tracy, then the killer needed at least a five-hour window to drive here, murder Tracy, then drive back to Chicago. Your small list of suspects...do any of them have that kind of time in their day?"

"Lea does." She didn't work and, according to Kelly, had used the au pair or daycare to free up her day for time at the gym, shopping, lunches and manicures. "If we could convince the Chicago PD to take another look into Sandra's death, they could confirm alibis for Lea, along with her husband and Kelly's."

"Sandra told me Lea's husband was okay-not her first choice for her daughter-but he was all right." George tapped at the cell phone screen. "She also said she never liked Kelly's husband. Said something about him being very controlling and verbally abusive to her daughter."

Celeste had witnessed Dale in action. He was a total jerk, but was he capable of murder? Plus, if Sandra never liked Dale, Celeste doubted the heavy betrayal and sadness she'd felt through Sandra would have been as strong.

When George placed the phone to his ear, she asked, "Are you calling Tracy again?"

"No. A Milwaukee detective I met during my search for Tracy." He held up a finger. "Joe? It's George Landry, how you doing?" After a pause, George said, "I'm standing outside Tracy Saunders' house. I'm worried about her and need a couple of officers here to do a wellness check. Can you make that happen for me?" After a few moments, George thanked the detective and pocketed the phone. "Joe's coming himself and bringing his partner along with him. They should be here in about fifteen minutes."

While they waited for the detectives in the warmth of George's SUV, Celeste kept thinking about the timing of Tracy's murders. "She had to have been killed the same day as Sandra."

"What makes you think that?" George asked. "And, you don't even know for a fact Tracy is dead."

The comforting white light teased her mind. "You're right. I could be wrong about everything. But let's say I am right. If the killer is from Chicago and needed five hours to come here, drown her, then drive home...if they got to Tracy's around eight that night, that would put them back in Chicago around one in the morning. Right?"

"Right." He rubbed his jaw with his gloved hand. "Unless your suspects are known to stay out late-especially during the week-that'd raise suspicions with their spouses."

"Since I can confirm that Lea was with Kelly on Thursday, and that Kelly's husband was also with them, then went back to work, Tracy had to have died on Wednesday."

"But can you confirm Lea's husband's whereabouts?"

"No. The police could."

"If they suspect foul play." He sighed. "Look, I'm not discounting any of your suspicions. During the thirty years I'd been with the Chicago PD, I saw things that-if I didn't have proof-people would think I was making up stories. Killing two people in one day? Seen it before. But your suspects are a stay-at-home mom, an attorney and a computer guy. Unless the two husbands took an entire day off of work, they couldn't have pulled off the double murders. There's just not enough time in the day."

"Which leaves Lea. Did Sandra ever talk about her daughters with you?"

"Sure. Not much though. She did tell me she was worried about how they'd react once they found out about Tracy."

"So she planned to tell them?"

He nodded. "Since she was leaving Tracy money, she'd said she wanted her daughters to learn about the half-sister from her, rather than during the reading of her will."

Another memory from last night's trance tugged at her. "During my vision last night, as Tracy was being attacked she asked about Sandra. The killer had said something like, 'I'd tell you to ask Sandra, but she's as good as dead.'"

"Anything else?" George asked.

"Yes, Tracy asked if Sandra was dead and the killer told her, not yet. So, if Tracy was attacked the way I saw it, that would mean that Tracy was dead before Sandra."

He looked out of the front winds.h.i.+eld, just as a dark sedan, followed by a police cruiser, pulled into Tracy's driveway. "Time to stop speculating and find out if you're right about Tracy." He turned to her, his eyes grave. "And I hope to G.o.d you're wrong."

She did, too. But as she stepped out of the Explorer and neared the police waiting by the front porch, dread settled on her chest. The killer had climbed these same steps and, under the ruse of wanting to learn how to play the piano, had entered this house and taken Tracy's life. Could she be wrong? After two years without a psychic vision, was her active imagination simply filling in the questionable blanks?

While George introduced her to Detective Joe Foster, a forty-something trim man with dark hair and a deep cleft in his chin, along with Joe's partner, Detective Rob Kliess, the two uniformed officers worked on opening Tracy's front door. After about twenty minutes, they succeeded without causing damage to the door, then one of the officers stepped inside. He immediately stepped back onto the porch, holding a hand over his mouth.

Frowning, Joe looked at his partner, then to George. "Hang tight. We'll be right back."

The stench drifting from the house lingered, even after the door had been closed. With her stomach nauseous from the foul odor and the memories of Tracy's final moments, she stood on the porch and watched as George paced. The two other officers also remained outside. The one who had gone into the foyer looked as if he might lose his breakfast at any moment.

Minutes later, Joe opened the door and stepped onto the porch. His face grim and ashen, he nodded to the two cops. "Get the crime scene tape and set up a perimeter around the house." Hand shaking, he pulled his cell phone from the front pocket of his coat. His eyes held apology and sympathy when he finally looked at George. "I'm sorry, George."

"Tracy's dead?"

"We found her in the bathtub."

George's eyes widened as he s.h.i.+fted his gaze to her. "Accidental?" he asked, still studying her.

"No. Before I call this in, I'm wondering why neither of you seem surprised."

George blinked a few times before wiping a gloved hand down his face. He turned to Joe. "Ever work with a psychic before?"

Joe glanced to her. "No."

"You might change your mind after you hear what Celeste has to say."

Chapter 10.

CELESTE PARKED IN front of Maxine's. She quickly sent John a text to let him know it would be another hour or so before she'd be home, then she exited the Jeep. Although she considered Maxine her psychic mentor, right now she needed the woman to play the role of psychic therapist. She could tell John everything that had gone on while in Milwaukee-and she would-but John was all about evidence. While she could now present him with plenty of evidence, what she couldn't answer was what had happened when she'd gone to the light with Tracy. Celeste hoped Maxine could help her with this and give her something to rea.s.sure John that she could and would come back from the light, should she ever find herself there again.

When she entered Maxine's, the woman quickly embraced her. Although surprised, Celeste hugged her back. Tightly. She hadn't realized how much she'd needed the physical connection and, in that moment, how much she and Maxine were in sync.

"Are you okay?" Maxine asked, leading her into the kitchen instead of the unicorn parlor. Celeste instantly envied the huge kitchen and all its modern amenities. The kitchen she had at the condo she shared with John was a quarter of the size of Maxine's, and Celeste easily pictured whipping up a meal for a huge party using Maxine's extensive counter s.p.a.ce and double ovens.

"Honestly, no," she said, taking a seat at the stool in front of the island. She brushed her hand along the quartz countertop. "Tracy's dead."

Maxine's eyes filled with sadness, but not shock. When Celeste had called her last evening to ask if they could get together, she'd told Maxine she had planned to meet with George with the hope of finding out more about Tracy. So much had happened since then...the trance, the police treating Tracy's house as a crime scene, the forensics investigators, the black body bag...

"I'm so sorry," Maxine said, reaching across the island and grasping her hand. "What happened?"

"Me. I had a trance last night."

"Trance or vision?"

"Both. And it was the scariest, strangest and, next to Olivia's birth, the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced."

Maxine's breath hitched. She stared at her with curiosity. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I'm hoping you can enlighten me. I thought I had the grounding thing down. But I was so wrong." She met Maxine's gaze. "So very wrong."

Maxine reached under the island, then produced a bottle of wine. "When I had the kitchen remodeled, I had my contractor install a wine cooler. I know it's a little early in the day, but I have a feeling this conversation calls for more than just a cup of tea."

Over a gla.s.s of wine, Celeste told Maxine about last night-leaving out the s.e.x she'd had with John. By the time she was sipping her second gla.s.s, she'd finished explaining what had happened at George's office, then at Tracy's house.

"Well?" Celeste asked, picking up the wine gla.s.s. "What do you think?"

"That I should have pulled out the vodka instead of the wine." Maxine shook her head. "Celeste, what you've experienced is incredible. Tracy's murder...I'm sorry you had to go through that with her, but you have to know now that if you hadn't been with her, she would still be reliving her murder. Over and over again."

"That's what Tracy told me."

"Incredible. My question...do you believe that?"

"Yes. Describing to you what I saw after she died doesn't compare to what I felt. My concern, and John's, is about the white light. In past visions I never went that far. I always woke up before the person died. Even when I went through trances during the serial killer case I worked with John, I always snapped out of it before...the end."

Maxine raised a brow and lifted her wine gla.s.s. "I don't think you have cause for concern. After all, it wasn't your time," she said, then took a sip.

"That's not very rea.s.suring." Celeste ran her finger around the rim of the gla.s.s. "And I need something to rea.s.sure John that I'll always come back to him."

Maxine moved around the island and sat on the stool next to her. She then took her hand. "Celeste, you said you heard John calling for you, correct?"

"I did, but I didn't feel him pulling me out of the tub. My body...it was like I was separated from it." She met Maxine's gaze. "Was I? Is that possible?"

"Those are questions I can't answer. But, I don't believe that your spirit left your body. I think that Tracy came to you, probably because her energy was drawn to yours since you'd connected to Sandra. Or, because you know who killed her."

"But I don't know. I have my suspicions. Now I can only hope the police will take another look at Sandra's suicide." She finished her wine. "I'm going to have to go soon. John is anxious to hear about what happened in Milwaukee. What I'll tell him about the detectives and what they found at Tracy's are all things he understands."

"Naturally. Most people can't make sense of what you and I can do or see. They, like John, rely on the tangible. They need to see or touch what's presented to them in order for their minds to determine if it is real or not. Since he can't see what you do, he has to go on faith and the belief that you aren't lying to him."

"I know John believes me, otherwise he wouldn't have been as angry as he was last night. You were right. Ian was right. I should have told John from the start." She pushed her gla.s.s away and shrugged. "It doesn't matter now. He knows what's going on. I just wish I did."

Maxine offered her more wine. After Celeste declined, the woman topped off her own gla.s.s. "You know exactly what happened. I think what's bothering you the most is that you weren't able to control it. Before you slipped into this trance, did you have any of your usual physical signs?"

"Nothing. I wasn't nauseous or scatterbrained. I was tired, though, and all I kept thinking was how relaxing a long hot bath would be. The weird thing is, I couldn't tell you the last time I took a bath over a shower." Celeste thought back to last night. "I wonder if it's possible that Tracy planted the idea of a bath in my mind. Back in Wisconsin, before I met John and realized my visions of women being murdered were real, I would wake up in random places throughout my house. One night I woke up under the kitchen table, my arms and legs tangled in the chair spindles. Later, I found out that the girl I'd dreamed about that night had been found bound to a tree."

Deciding she could use a little more wine after all, Celeste reached for the bottle. "I'm fine with being psychic, and I truly hope I can help give Sandra and Tracy justice," she said, filling her gla.s.s a third of the way. "But I don't like that my visions are controlling me physically. Here's the reality. My mind might have been joined with Tracy's, but last night, my body was in the bathtub and I was underwater when John found me. If he hadn't, could I have drowned like Tracy? Would I have snapped out of the trance the moment water entered my lungs? And how in the h.e.l.l do I prevent another trance from happening?"

"Yes, we're right back to the reason you came to me in the first place." Frowning, Maxine looked toward the large kitchen window that overlooked the backyard. "I need to think on this and do additional research. In the meantime, I want you to continue to watch for physical signs. Know your body, Celeste. And you might want to refrain from taking long baths for a while."

"Ha, ha." Celeste half-smiled. "As it is, I'm afraid to give Olivia a bath. I even had anxiety about driving today and was glad George drove us to Milwaukee. I'm really worried, Maxine."

Maxine touched her hand. "I know, darling. And I wish I had answers for you. Go home to your husband and, for now, do as I suggested. Know your body and listen to what it tells you. I also think you should come over again and perform another reading. We'll conduct an experiment. I have plenty of objects in my house we can use that have history to them. Instead of using the scribble method to ground you, we'll use John."

"No offense, but I don't think John will want to sit in on a reading."

"I'm not talking about your husband in the physical form. Your love and spiritual connection to John should be all the grounding you need." Maxine grinned. "I would love to meet him, and your daughter. Maybe you'll have me over for dinner?" Chuckling, she raised her gla.s.s. "Or better yet, come here and cook. I have this big beautiful kitchen and it deserves to be used by someone with culinary skills, which I lack."

"That sounds nice, but we'll have to keep the parlor closed. Olivia would destroy- The black figure filled her mind, its dark ma.s.s undulating and rolling over itself. As it moved, growing larger, it revealed a small head covered in golden curls.

"Celeste," Maxine said, her voice firm and filled with alarm. "What is it?"

"I don't know. Before I fell asleep last night I saw the black ma.s.s surrounding Olivia." The same fear that had gipped her then, squeezed her chest tightly. "Do you think it means anything?"

"I'm not sure," Maxine said, concern clear in her eyes. "You and John had argued about your ability and he'd made his concerns for Olivia clear. I'm sure it was your restless subconscious worrying about your daughter."

"You're probably right." She finished her wine. "I better go. Thanks for the wine and the advice."

Maxine led her to the front door. When they reached the foyer, the older woman handed Celeste her parka. "I'll be around tomorrow if you need to talk, and would love for you to stop by on Monday after the memorial service. I'd like to hear how things went."

Celeste slipped into her coat, then retrieved her car keys from her pocket. "Sounds good. I'll call you."

Maxine pulled her into an embrace. "I know this is a confusing and stressful time for you. What you experienced with Tracy was a beautiful and magical thing. I envy you for that." Instead of releasing her, Maxine tightened her hold. "For your peace of mind, as well as mine, please keep Olivia close to you or John, until Sandra and Tracy's murders are resolved."

Celeste pulled back and stared at her. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No. I'm worried there might be something you're not telling yourself."

When Celeste entered the condo, the zesty aroma of garlic, Italian spices, pepperoni and sausage made her mouth water and her empty stomach growl.

"Mama?" Olivia called from the living room, followed by the pitter-patter of her little feet along the wood floors.

"In here," Celeste said, taking off her coat and then hanging it in the closet. When she turned, she grinned as Olivia, wearing a big dimpled smile and nothing else but a diaper, came to a wobbly stop at the end of the hallway.

"Hi, cutie-patootie." Her daughter giggled and came running for her. "Where are your clothes?" she asked, scooping up Olivia and giving her a kiss.

Olivia babbled, her face serious, and explained the situation in baby speak. Unfortunately, Celeste didn't speak baby and the only word she could understand was Dada. "Did Daddy take your clothes?" she asked, and headed into the living room to find John. "Or did Olivia?"

"Dada," Olivia said, then looked to John, who rose from the couch, with accusation in her eyes.

"Don't blame Daddy," John said, approaching them. "I'm not the one who p.o.o.ped their pants and got it all over the place."

Celeste wrinkled her nose and kissed Olivia's forehead. "Eww. Did you have a blowout?"

Olivia giggled, then squirmed and complained when her blocks caught her attention. She sat her daughter on the floor, then gave John a kiss and hug. "Bad day?" she asked.

"Nope. We had fun together. Well, until the diaper incident. It was so bad I almost had to call for reinforcements."

"Wuss." She grinned. "How is it that you can handle walking a crime scene but not a little p.o.o.p? What would your coworkers think?"

He furrowed his brows. "You do have a point. Let's keep this to ourselves."

"I will, especially since you took care of dinner. Did you eat?" she asked, and headed for the kitchen.

"I fed Olivia, but waited for you." He pulled out a bottle of wine. "Want a gla.s.s?"

"Just a half. I had some wine with Maxine and don't want to wake up with a headache in the morning." She considered what went on today and what might happen tomorrow. "Never mind," she said, and pulled two plates from the cabinet. "Make it a full gla.s.s."

When he met her gaze, his eyes probed hers. "You found Tracy?"