Celeste Files: Unlocked Part 11

She nodded. "Dead."

He blew out a breath and finished uncorking the wine. "The way you saw it?"

"Unfortunately."

He looked at her again, and hardened his jaw. "Please tell me you didn't actually see her?"

"G.o.d, no." As she placed pizza on their plates, she told him how George knew Detective Joe Foster, and how the Milwaukee detective had handled the crime scene. "George and I left for Chicago before the forensics investigators finished working the scene. Before we left, Joe did tell us that there was no sign of forced entry, and, except for Tracy's office, nothing in the house was out of place. He also said there was bruising along Tracy's face and shoulders that suggested someone held her under the water."

"What did the detective say about Tracy's office?"

"It was ransacked." She bypa.s.sed the pizza and reached for the gla.s.s of wine. "The problem is, it'll take them time to sort through the office to figure out what the killer was looking for."

Olivia came over and, calling for him, raised her arms and reached for John. He scooped her up, took a seat on the chair in front of the island, then picked up his slice of pizza. "But you know," he said, craning to take a bite of pizza before Olivia put her fingers all over it.

"I think I do, and George agrees. He told Joe about Sandra's suicide, and that we both think the killer wanted to make sure no one was aware that Sandra was Tracy's mother. If I didn't suspect Sandra was murdered over the adoption papers, I don't know if the Milwaukee PD would've made the connection in time."

"In time for what?"

"Sandra's cremation."

He raised a brow and gave Olivia his crust. Within seconds their daughter had coated it with drool. "So is this detective going to contact the Chicago PD and ask them to reinvestigate Sandra's suicide?"

"Joe said he would. On the drive home, George told me Joe promised to keep him in the loop. Although George believes him, he's contacting a few detectives he used to work with when he'd been with the Chicago PD."

"If George doesn't get anywhere, you could always call Jessica."

Jessica Russo was a Chicago homicide detective and married to Dante, an agent who also worked for CORE. But Jessica was pregnant and due in a few weeks. "I hate to bother her, but I would bother her partner."

John took the mushy crust Olivia offered him and placed it on his napkin. "Yeah, Alex is a good guy. He'd help." He wiped Olivia's face and hands, then kissed her clean cheek. "Were the forensics investigators able to come up with a time of death?"

"They're thinking two to three days ago, but will know more after the autopsy."

He set Olivia on the floor. "I don't think you have to worry about the Chicago PD reinvestigating Sandra's suicide. The time of Tracy's murder is too coincidental to ignore. What I'm wondering is how they're going to handle it."

"Handle what?"

"The wake is tomorrow, the memorial service is Monday. If the ME missed something during the original autopsy-if there even was one-they'll need Sandra's body. I can't imagine that'll go over well with the family."

"Oh, G.o.d. I feel horrible, like this is my fault." She shoved the plate of uneaten pizza aside. "It's bad enough Kelly and her family have to deal with their loss. Now they'll have to deal with a murder investigation." She rubbed her temple. "What if I'm wrong? That means I put this family through h.e.l.l over nothing."

"I think Tracy has made it clear you're right on track." He reached for his gla.s.s. "Are you still planning on going to the wake tomorrow?"

"Yes. I'm hoping my guilt won't show."

He reached across the island and took her hand. "Let's get Eden to watch Olivia and I'll go with you."

Keep Olivia close to you or John, until Sandra and Tracy's murders are resolved.

"No," she said, quicker and harsher than she'd meant. "Thanks, but it's okay. I'd rather not bother Eden. And I'd rather Olivia stay close to one of us. I trust Eden, not whoever killed Tracy and Sandra."

He tightened his grip on her hand. "What aren't you telling me?"

"I'm sure it's nothing, but last night, before I fell asleep, I saw the black figure surrounding Olivia."

He glanced away and looked to where their daughter sat on the floor playing with a couple of plastic storage bowls she'd pulled from the kitchen drawer. "What did Maxine have to say about that and what happened last night?"

"That neither of us should worry about me not coming back from the light. If it's not my time..." She shrugged. "She does want to work on helping me control the trances. As for Olivia, she thinks what I saw was my subconscious messing with me. If you remember, we argued hard about the trance and you brought up one of my worst fears-going into another trance when it's just Olivia and me. But I think Maxine's right. What happened to Tracy has me paranoid."

"Me, too. And I'm sorry again for some of the things I said last night."

"Only some of them?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood. She didn't want to discuss murders or visions, or worry about the what-ifs should she go into another trance. Tired and not looking forward to the next two days, she wanted to curl up on the couch with her two favorite people and pretend everything was normal.

John chuckled and stood. Still holding her hand, he came around the island, then pulled her into his arms. "Okay, I'm sorry for everything I said."

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 pa.s.sed 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, s.h.i.+fting 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 sweats.h.i.+rt. 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 c.r.a.p, Celeste. You've been in a mood since last night. What's the problem?"

She tossed eggsh.e.l.ls into the sink, and faced him. "You really don't know?"

"I wouldn't have asked."

John shouldn't look so d.a.m.ned s.e.xy in his old sweats and t-s.h.i.+rt. 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 sc.r.a.ped 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 a.s.signed 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, G.o.d. 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 h.e.l.l. It could also give Sandra and Tracy justice.