Celeste Files: Unlocked Part 3

"I think you know."

"If you need an investigator, ask your husband for help. I spoke with him before you called. He'll be boarding the company jet in about an hour."

The thought of telling John about the visions and Maxine made her stomach flip. "I'm worried how he'll react," she said, unwilling to admit to her father that her biggest worry was that John would put the kibosh on having another baby if she started dabbling with her psychic abilities again. There were some subjects too personal to share with Ian.

"You won't know until you tell him." He sighed. "But, I'm intrigued. Tell me what you need."

Relieved Ian was willing to help her, she relaxed. "Once I find out the name of the victim-"

"Alleged victim," he reminded her.

"Right. Once I find out her name, is there anyway CORE could search her phone records and bank and credit card statements? I think the alleged victim might have given up a child for adoption and tried to find her. I also think she'd kept that child secret from her family and was murdered over it."

"Interesting. Why?"

She shrugged. "Money. The victim has two children. Splitting an inheritance fifty-fifty is one thing, but what if she had met the child she'd given up and decided to cut her into the inheritance? There goes the fifty-fifty split, which, to me, could be motivation to keep the woman's secrets...secret."

"Money is always an excellent motive for murder."

"So, will you be able to do this for me?"

"You know I can, but I'm not comfortable working behind my son-in-law's back."

"You seemed fine with it yesterday."

"I know. But after I told Cami, she pointed out that nothing good would come from keeping Maxine or your visions from John. I think you should tell him, but I'll keep quiet about it if that's what you want."

He fell in love with you knowing you were psychic.

Maxine's words taunted her. While they were true, John had only been with her for a week before she'd repressed her psychic side. Other than the memories of the trances she'd experienced that week, he had no idea what it was like to live with a psychic. Especially one who the dead liked to use to tell their stories.

"I'll talk to John, but please don't say anything to him until I let you know." She looked at the clock on the dashboard. "I'm sitting in the parking lot outside of work. I better get going. Thanks for being willing to help and for introducing me to Maxine."

Once she was off the phone, she killed the ignition, then opened the door. Although she'd love to dig deeper into this...investigation, she had a business to run and a manager to hire.

She paused outside of the bakery doors and wondered how she should approach John about Kelly's mom. She couldn't be one-hundred percent sure the woman was even murdered. While she wanted to tell John the truth, as her dad had pointed out yesterday, her husband liked his evidence.

And visions, gut feelings or intuitions weren't enough to convict anyone of murder.

Chapter 4.

CELESTE'S STOMACH TINGLED with antic.i.p.ation when she heard the condo door open, then shut. Her husband had been gone since Sunday morning and she'd missed seeing him and having his strong arms wrapped around her when she slept. Despite the worry over whether or not to tell him about her visions, she was anxious to see him and find out how his trip had gone.

"Daddy's home," she cooed to her daughter as she picked her up off the living room area rug.

Olivia gave her a dimpled grin, then looked around the room. "Dada, dada," she babbled, and squirmed in Celeste's arms. She set her daughter down, then watched with pride as Olivia toddled across the floor, managing the obstacle course of large Lego blocks and stuffed animals with ease. "Dada, dada." She walked around the corner, then squealed.

"How's Daddy's girl?" John asked with a smacking smooch so loud that the sound carried into the living room.

Olivia chattered in baby speak as John rounded the corner carrying her. He'd already shed his winter coat, and wore a black merino wool sweater that showed off his broad shoulders, muscular arms and trim waist. His dark-brown gaze snagged Celeste's, then slowly inched its way down her body. "There's Mommy," he said, dropping his voice to a husky tone. He gave Olivia a kiss on her head, then sat her in front of her toys.

"Hi," Celeste said with a smile, then laughed when John grabbed her by the waist and hauled her close to him. In an instant, he ran his hands under the back of her loose, long-sleeve t-s.h.i.+rt, then angled his head and kissed her.

She twined her arms around his neck, ran her fingers through his hair and groaned as he deepened the kiss. When he released her lips, he pressed his forehead against hers. "I missed you," he said, then gave her another kiss. "You look so d.a.m.ned s.e.xy."

She wore her 'at home' uniform, which consisted of black yoga pants, fuzzy slippers and either a long-sleeve t-s.h.i.+rt or sweats.h.i.+rt. None of which screamed s.e.xy. "You're looking very fine, too," she said, running her hand down his back and giving his rear a squeeze.

His eyes darkened with hunger. "Any way we can put Olivia to bed early tonight?" he asked, also grabbing her rear and pressing her closer.

"She has two more hours, and you haven't seen her in four days."

While the hunger remained in his eyes, he let out a guilty sigh. "I'm a bad dad."

"No, just a h.o.r.n.y one."

He chuckled, then let her go. "Come here, munchkin." He bent and lifted Olivia, who protested at the loss of her blocks. "Okay, okay," he said, sitting her back down.

"Hungry?" Celeste asked, then rolled her eyes when his gaze locked onto the apex of her thighs. "For dinner, gutter boy. I made beef stroganoff."

"I have something you can stroke-"

She laughed. "Really? Did you have to go there?"

He gave her the crooked grin she adored. "What can I say? You bring out the best in me."

"We eat in ten," she said, still grinning, and headed into their kitchen to finish dinner. He brought out the best in her, too. Which only compounded the guilt she'd been carrying since she'd had the vision yesterday. Her dad and Maxine were right. She should tell him what had happened.

She checked the rolls in the oven, then opened the fridge and brought out the salads she'd prepared earlier. By the time she'd finished setting the kitchen island which served as their kitchen table with gnome plates, napkins and silverware, she decided to wait and see how the evening played out. He'd been gone for four days and needed to unwind, not worry that his wife might be involved in a murder investigation. Plus, she still lacked that little thing called evidence.

She let him know dinner was ready, and when he entered the kitchen carrying Olivia, she asked, "What do you want to drink?"

He placed Olivia in her highchair. "Do we have any bottles of the pinot noir left? If I remember right, that should go well with the stroganoff."

G.o.d, her husband was adorable. He might not appreciate the term, but there it was. A few months ago, they'd started taking wine-tasting cla.s.ses for something to do, other than sitting on the couch catching up on their DVR or playing backgammon. Since then, John had developed quite the palate and had started to enjoy wine.

"I'm not sure, wino, let me check." She looked through their pantry, found the pinot, then grabbed two wine gla.s.ses. "Looks like you're in luck."

"Play your cards right and you'll be getting lucky later."

She shook her head and laughed. "If I play my cards right? Pretty sure of yourself."

He uncorked the wine, then began pouring. When he was finished, he looked to Olivia, who tugged at her bib. "Your mommy kissed me first."

"I did not."

"Did, too. You practically threw yourself at me."

"You're so full of it," she said, plating the stroganoff. "And aren't you supposed to let the wine breathe?"

He shrugged. "I'm thirsty," he said, and looked to their daughter, who was now shoving noodles into her mouth. "I love her."

Celeste grinned. "Me, too." Her smile fell when the memories of yesterday hit her, and she had to force a mouthful of stroganoff down her throat. If John knew what had happened, he might be furious and blame her for something she hadn't been able to control.

After wiping her mouth with her napkin, she picked up her wine gla.s.s. "So, how'd it go in Pontiac?" Ian had started a new program where law enforcement agencies could hire CORE to train their people on how to handle crime scenes. Since John had worked for the FBI and was a criminalist, he'd been sent to Pontiac, Michigan, to work with the Oakland County Sheriff's Department.

"Good, but a little boring. I'm heading back there again next week."

Considering John was used to finding criminals, not teaching law enforcement how to find the evidence that could lead back to the bad guy, she could understand how these tutorials would bore him. "I think what you're doing is important." Finding evidence was one thing, knowing what to do with it and how it fit into the puzzle was another. Before her vision and the clues she'd gained from it could sidetrack her, she said, "I did something kind of important today."

His forkful of stroganoff hovered at his lips. "What's that?" he asked, before taking a bite.

"I made Jenny manager of the Sugar Shack."

He finished chewing, then grinned. "Good choice. How does it feel to let go of some of the control?"

"I just did it today, so I'm not sure. But with Jen's background in baking and her business sense, I think she'll do great. I told her to hire someone to cover what duties she won't be able to handle. I'll have the final say, of course."

"Of course," he repeated with a grin, then let out a breath. "I know it's hard to turn some of the business over to her, but, baby, you know it's the right thing. You've lived and breathed the bakery since you'd started it. You're a business woman, and I'm proud of you, but you need to also enjoy life."

He was absolutely right. Giving up some of her day-to-day duties would free up her time and allow her to do other things.

Like find out who had killed Kelly's mom.

"Anything else happen while I was gone?" he asked.

Now would be the perfect time to tell him the truth. "Kelly's mom died," she said, choosing to take baby steps.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, his voice and eyes genuine. "Do you want me to go to the wake with you?"

"That depends if my sister or brother can watch Olivia. They're both so busy." Her sister, Eden, who was married to John's coworker, Hudson, was a former investigative reporter turned true crime novelist. Eden and Hudson also had a daughter, Hannah, who was a few months older than Olivia, and they, like her and John, led hectic lives. To avoid hiring outside babysitters, Eden and Celeste either used each other for help, or their brother, Will. "I have a feeling the funeral is going to be rough for the family-not that it's ever easy," she continued. "Kelly's mom committed suicide."

John picked up a roll. "No kidding? How long had the doctors given her?"

"I think another three months."

He made a slight shrug as he b.u.t.tered his roll. "I don't blame her for taking her own life. Now her family can remember her the way she was, rather than how she would end up when the time came." He looked up at her. "I'm sorry, hon. I didn't mean...I'm sorry," he repeated.

Celeste's mom had died three years before she'd met John, but he was well aware of how hard her mom's pa.s.sing had been on her and how she still grieved. "It's okay. I spoke with Kelly after I left the Sugar Shack. She sounded okay, but I'm sure that'll change once the reality of her mom being gone hits her." She broke off a piece of her roll and placed it on Olivia's highchair tray. "I'm going to pick up Kelly's daughter and drop her off with Olivia at the daycare, so she and her sister can handle the funeral arrangements and meet with her mom's attorney. I'm also donating baked goods for the luncheon they plan to hold after the funeral."

"You're a good friend."

"I wish there was more I could do for her." Tell him. "And there might be. Yesterday evening I-" Her cell phone rang. "Sorry, let me see who it is." She scooted her chair back, stood, then retrieved her phone from the counter. "It's Jenny." After she spoke with her new manager, she ended the call, then sat back down.

"Everything okay?"

"Everything is great. Jenny was calling to see if I'll be available to interview a woman she knows from pastry school tomorrow afternoon."

He grinned. "I still can't believe you finally did it," he said, picking up his wine gla.s.s. "Here's to having you around more."

She tapped her gla.s.s to his. "I'm around."

"You might be here, but your mind isn't. Or you're busy planning menus, paying bills, dealing with marketing. Since the article in Chicago Magazine came out, the bakery has been swamped. You could almost hire another manager."

"You're right, and I'm sorry. It's not fair to you or Olivia."

He reached across the table and took her hand. "Celeste, I'm proud of you. You've pursued your dreams and built a thriving business. I know hiring people eats into your bottom line, but I'd love to see you free up even more of your time. You'll need to if we're going to have another baby."

"I see," she said, a little annoyed. "So now that Jenny is managing the bakery you're finally and ever so graciously going to give up your super sperm. Very kind of you. I'm glad you've made this decision for us."

He squeezed her hand before she could pull it away. "Don't act like I'm trying to call the shots where our family is concerned. You know I want more kids."

"On your terms," she said, pus.h.i.+ng her plate aside.

"That's not true. We both agreed you've stretched yourself thin between Olivia and the business. Having another baby will put additional pressure on both of us." He let go of her hand, then took his plate and stood. "Call me selfish, but I've missed my wife."

She stared at John's back as he rinsed his dish. Yes, she'd been busy juggling career and motherhood, but she hadn't thought about how her business had affected her marriage. Other than nagging her about hiring extra help, John hadn't said much about how she ran the bakery or that he'd felt neglected. Between his travel schedule and her devotion to the bakery and Olivia, she realized they really didn't have much private time.

As Olivia continued to polish off her dinner, Celeste stood and went to the sink. She ran a hand along John's back. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"I've been asking you to cut back on your hours since Olivia was born."

"And I did."

"No, you rearranged your schedule and brought work home. I'm tired of sitting on the couch alone while you're in front of the computer dealing with payroll or whatever." He took the dishtowel off the counter and, drying his hands, faced her. "I want another baby, but I need you to be around more."

He was right. She'd been running on empty. There were many nights when John would put the moves on her, but she'd been too tired to love his body. That wasn't how she'd envisioned their marriage, and the only person who could change their current unhealthy situation was her.

"Let me run the numbers. For now, I think I can afford to hire an a.s.sistant manager, which would free up my time to take care of payroll and such during the day, rather than at night."

After setting the towel on the counter, he placed both hands on her shoulders. "Do it because you want to, not because of me."

"Mama?" Olivia called, and stretched as far as her highchair straps would allow.

John chuckled, and, after wetting a paper towel, went to their daughter. "How can you be so chubby when half of your food is on your face?" he asked Olivia, and cleaned her cheeks and mouth. "Come on, munchkin. Let's take a bath."

"You've been gone all week," Celeste said, and began cleaning the kitchen. "Let me finish up in here, then I'll take care of Livy's bath."

"I have my girl covered. I'm sure you have work to do anyway. And, no, that wasn't a dig."

She rubbed his arm and gave Olivia's damp cheek a kiss. "My work is finished."

He reached around and grabbed her waist. "Good. That'll give us time to practice our baby-making skills."