She shoved the sweaty curls clinging to her forehead and cheek away from her face. “I think it’s hotter today than it was yesterday,” she said, then dragged in a deep breath.
“Actually, it’s about five degrees cooler. The breeze is helping.”
Celeste glanced to Barney and realized he looked as fresh as he did when they’d been in his air-conditioned wagon. “Not buying it.” She tugged at her damp tank top. “Between the wind and the water, it wasn’t bad on the airboat. Here, the air is stagnant and…suffocating.” She stopped, and despite probably losing several pounds in water weight due to her profuse sweating, goose bumps rose along her skin. “How far away is Denis’s trailer?”
He pointed to the left. “From here, second one down.” He looked to her. “Damn, girl. You are sweatin’ up a storm. I wish I would’ve thought to grab you a water bottle when we were back at my house.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” But would she? The closer they were getting to Denis’s trailer, the hotter she was becoming. She hadn’t thought much of it at first. After all, they were in southwest Florida in mid-June. Of course it would be hot. Of course she should be sweating. But each time Denis’s ghost made his presence known, the air around her grew hot, humid and overbearing. Was he here now? Would he be angry that she and Barney were about to snoop around his trailer?
The imaginary bands around her ankles grew thicker, tighter. Each step she took became shorter, harder, until she had to stop. Her heartbeat soared as panic tightened her chest. A wave of dizziness threw the rows of trailers out of focus. She closed her eyes and dragged in another deep breath.
Barney gripped her arm when she swayed. “Are you okay?”
“Let me show you what I am.”
Celeste opened her eyes and quickly glanced around, searching for the thick gray cloud she’d seen last night. She staggered, then, with Barney’s help, took a big step forward, the imaginary bands around her ankles suddenly disappearing.
“Come see, sugar.”
“You’re scaring the bejesus out of me,” Barney said, his tone alarmed, as he hooked his arm through hers, keeping her steady. “If the heat is too much. I’ll go get my car and—”
“I’m fine. I have to do this.”
He stared at her, his eyes filled with both worry and curiosity. “Are you catchin’ one of your psychic vibes?”
“Do you really want to know?”
He glanced over his shoulder to the next trailer, before facing her again. “Yeah.”
She nodded, and ran a shaky hand along her forehead. “He just told me that he wants to show me what he is.”
“What, not who?”
She nodded. “He’d said the same thing to me last night.”
Barney narrowed his eye. “Maybe we should wait until later, and go along with Lola and the detectives’ plan. At least at the ME’s you’ll have a doctor around, should you have…I dunno…an issue.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s here, and wants me to see something. I’m not turning back now, or waiting on Lola and her detectives. I’ll be fine.”
The look in his eye said he didn’t believe her, but he nodded. “I’m still worried. What’s John gonna think about this? I don’t care if he’s ticked off at me for bringing you here. I just don’t want him mad at you.”
Now that the air around her had grown less sweltering and suffocating, she was anxious to keep going and investigate Denis’s trailer. John probably wouldn’t be happy with her. But she was too impatient to wait for the detectives to give her the opportunity to go through Denis’s things, and the dead man wanted her here anyway.
“John will be fine. He’s very understanding when it comes to my gift.”
Barney grinned. “Girl, I’m the biggest bullshitter out there, just ask anyone who knows me. When John was down here last year to help save your dad and his gal, your husband and I had a couple of long talks. There ain’t no way in hell he’d be good with any of this. That man is too by the book. But I ain’t the one sleeping with him,” he said with a wink. “If you’re ready and willin’, let’s get this done, then go to lunch.”
Breaking and entering and lunch weren’t exactly activities that went together. Since this was her first burglary—and it wasn’t as if she was going to steal anything—she might make hers a liquid lunch. “I like that plan,” she said, and continued toward Denis’s trailer.
Barney had been right. No one was around. The half dozen trailers near Denis’s had their drapes drawn, the awnings rolled back, and showed no signs that anyone was in residence. Growing more confident, she followed Barney to where he was already picking the lock to Denis’s trailer.
“Shouldn’t you be wearing the gloves you brought?” she asked.
“Dang it.” He took a step back, then reached into his pocket and pulled out latex gloves. “I knew I was forgettin’ something. Maybe I shoulda stuck around for John’s training after all,” he said with a grin, and used his shirt to wipe his prints. Once he had the gloves on, and had handed her a pair, he went back to work on the lock. Minutes later, he opened the door.
Air, unbelievably hotter than what already surrounded them, drifted from the opened door, along with the wretched odor of rotting food. Barney waved a hand in front of his face, and wrinkled his nose. After pulling a small flashlight from his back pocket, he drew in a deep breath through his mouth, then leaned inside.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“Just gettin’ acquainted with my surroundings is all.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Ready?”
She nodded, finished putting on the gloves, then followed him inside. “I think I might throw up,” she said, and pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. Whatever Denis had left in the trash had been festering in the heat for nearly ten days.
Barney tried a light switch. “Denis must’ve shut off the power before he left for his fishing trip.” He aimed the flashlight toward a set of drawers, then began opening them. “Got us another flashlight,” he said, handing her the one he’d found.
She turned it on, then moved the beam over the small kitchen and living area. The trailer was surprisingly clean, considering the state of the room she’d seen during last night’s vision. “How long had Denis lived here?” she asked, and opened a kitchen cabinet.
“About two years or so. He said he moved to Florida from New Orleans for a change in scenery.” He chuckled and shook his head. “All he did was move from one swamp to another, so I’m not thinkin’ scenery was the issue. I think he might’ve had someone after him.”
“Why do you think that?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. Just a hunch.” He grinned. “Maybe I got a little psychic vibe going, too.”
She smiled. “We can discuss it over lunch—if either of us have an appetite after being in this stinky trailer.”
“Yeah, let’s speed this along. Why don’t you check the bedroom, and I’ll nose around in here.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said, and walked down the short narrow hall, then into the bedroom. A full-sized bed had been positioned at the center of the tiny room. Built-in drawers and small closets ran along the right wall, while a draped window was on the opposite wall, more built-in drawers below it. A long mirror was attached to the wall next to the bedroom entrance. Once again, the room was neat, not a thing out of place. She moved to the wall covered with drawers and closets, then opened one of the drawers and shined the flashlight inside. Socks and underwear.
“Cold.”
She ignored Denis’s raspy whisper and moved to the next drawer, then the next. He might want to show her something, but there could also be things he didn’t want her to see. After several minutes, and finding nothing but the man’s clothes, she opened one of the two small closets. A camouflage jacket, along with a pair of waders had been stuffed inside. She pushed the clothes aside, and discovered a shotgun leaning against the interior of the closet, along with several boxes of bullets.
She opened
the next closet and found similar hunting gear. After closing the door, she moved across the room.
“Warm.”
She opened one of the drawers below the window.
“Cold.”
Frustrated, hot and thirsty, she took a step back and aimed the flashlight around the room again. If Denis was being honest, then there was nothing in the drawers. Yet he’d made it clear that she was near that something he’d wanted to show her. She took another step backward, crouched, then pointed the flashlight near the base of the trailer’s walls.
“Warmer.”
“Where?” She ran her free hand along the carpeted floor. “Under the carpet?” As she shifted her feet and moved her hand, her fingers connected with the wood frame holding up the full-sized mattress. When she flashed the light on the frame, the beam revealed paneling that didn’t match any of the wood in the room.
“Hot.”
A puff of humid air tickled the back of her neck and bare shoulders. More excited to find what he wanted to show her than scared, she set the flashlight on the carpet, aiming it toward the panel. She smoothed her palms along the wood until she came across a tiny eye-hook latch. Once she unlocked it, the panel opened downward, and now rested on the carpet.
“See what I am, sugar. See how bad.”
“I saw how bad you were last night, and have the bruises to prove it.”
Denis let out a raspy laugh. “I let you live.”
“Let me live? Ghosts can’t kill people, and you don’t scare me,” she lied. She had no idea what Denis was capable of doing to her, and that scared the hell out of her. But she also didn’t want him to think he had the upper hand.
“Are you sure?” he asked, as a hot breeze moved her ponytail. “You’re mine until I’m done.”
Ignoring the ghost, she picked up the flashlight, then lay on her stomach to gain a better view of the compartment under the bed. The light touched on a wood box that reminded her of something where old silverware might have been stored. Brushing aside dust and cobwebs, she pulled the box from the cubbyhole. The letters D and C had been carved along the top of the box. Remembering Barney mentioning that Denis liked to carve his initials into his property, she lifted the lid of the wood box and aimed the light at its contents.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped. Her body shook with fear and outrage as she quickly sifted a hand through the dozens of pictures that had been tossed haphazardly inside. All the photographs were of women. She lifted one, sucked in a breath and fought back the tears. The terror captured in the subject’s eyes, the pain and worry etched on her face, reminded Celeste of the woman she’d seen in her vision last night. But this wasn’t a photo of that woman. She’d had longer hair, a fuller mouth and had been younger.
She picked up the next picture. Stared at the face of yet another woman, at the tears that had bathed her cheeks as the photo had been taken. At the utter horror in the woman’s dark-brown eyes.
“Help me,” a woman’s voice—barely a whisper—floated around Celeste like a feather might on a breeze.
Celeste’s mouth grew dry and her heart rate quickened. She stared at the woman’s picture, then shook her head. The ghost had her spooked and her imagination running wild. She did not just hear this woman talking to her. She set the photo on the carpet, and lifted another.
“¡Ayúdame!”
Celeste dropped the picture, and picked up several of the other photographs. As she shined the light on them, more feminine whispers filled her head. Some were in broken English, others were in Spanish. What they all had in common was the desperation and fear lacing their voices.
She sat back on her heels. What they all had in common was death.
“Did he kill you?” she asked, and stared at the pictures.
“Who you talkin’ to?” Barney stepped into the bedroom, shining his flashlight on the wood box. “What is that?”
Between Barney and the women still talking to her, her head began to throb with the onslaught of a severe headache. “I found it under the bed. It’s filled with pictures of women,” she said, then reminded him about what she’d seen last night during her vision. “I think Denis murdered these women.”
He squatted next to her. “What makes you think they’re dead?”
She winced when the throbbing in her head worsened, as if someone were piercing her temple with an ice pick. “Visions…voices, only the dead come to me, not the living.”
Barney flashed his light along the box. “There must be forty or fifty pictures.”
Celeste choked back a sob when she dug her hand into the pile of pictures. As if she was in a busy airport, dozens of voices floated around her, each one begging for help. The women wanted her help, likely to pass into the light and leave this life on Earth behind. Denis wanted revenge. He’d wanted her to see what he was, and now she knew. He was a murderer and didn’t deserve the revenge he sought. He deserved to burn in hell.
The air around her thickened, the temperature increasing. She sucked in a breath as invisible bands squeezed her chest. Panicking, gasping for breath, she latched onto Barney’s arm.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice alarmed.
“¡Corre!¡Escapar!” The women’s voices became louder, stronger and frantic. They echoed over one another in different languages. “Run. Flee. Duele mucho. Ayúdame.”
The band around her chest constricted. Celeste grunted and dropped the photos. Terrified, unable to breathe, to stop the pain, she shifted her gaze toward Barney. “Help,” she managed. “Get me out.”
Barney grabbed her arm, threw it over his shoulder, then lifted her from the floor. He half-dragged, half-carried her from the trailer. Once they were outside, the weight on her chest abruptly lifted. She fell to her knees and dragged in deep gulps of air.
“What in the hell just happened?” Barney knelt next to her. “Do I need to call 911?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine,” she panted. “Just give me a sec.”
“Sure.” He patted her back. “Whatever you…oh, my God. Celeste. Please tell me you’re seein’ what I’m seein’.”
Celeste lifted her head, and gasped. The hairs on her arms lifted. Denis, his body the same dark gray as the cloud that had hovered over her last night, stood at the window of the trailer’s bedroom, the curtain slightly aside. She reached for Barney and used his shoulder to steady herself as she pushed off the ground. “You see him?” she asked, stunned, and yet relieved. None of this—not last night, not just now—had been her over-active mind’s imagination.
“I see him. And I don’t think he was good with us going into his trailer.”
She kept her gaze locked on Denis. “No. He wanted me in there. He wanted to show me what he was.”
“What’s that?”
“I wish I knew,” she said, and watched as Denis’s image faded away.
Chapter 6
JOHN RUBBED SUNSCREEN over Celeste’s shoulders.
She winced. “Not too hard,” she said when his fingers met with a knot.
“You’re on vacation. The only knots you should have are the ones holding your bikini together.”
“What do you expect?”
He squeezed more sunscreen on her back, then resumed rubbing. “I expect to have fun with my wife.”
She looked over her shoulder. “That could have been arranged if you hadn’t rushed us off to the beach.” After Barney had called Lola and had given her the details of what they’d found at Denis’s trailer, Lola had then called the detectives she knew. From there, John became involved. He’d nixed her part in the detectives’ investigation, and had whisked her from the RV park back to their condo.
She’d been fine with that. The detectives had brought a forensics unit with them, and had explained it could take hours to process the trailer. She also wanted to do everything possible to salvage their vacation. Once she and John had gone back to their condo, she’d wanted to fall into John’s strong arms and erase what she’d experienced at Deni
s’s trailer. Her husband had shown no interest in sex. Instead, he’d quickly changed into his swim trunks, ignored her as she’d stripped naked and slid into her bikini, and focused on how they were burning daylight by being in the condo.
“I thought you wanted to spend the afternoon here,” he said, wiping his hands with a towel.
“I don’t care if it’s at a beach, pool or in the condo. I want to spend time with you.”
“I want the same thing. You know that.”
She looked to him. “Really?”
He stared out at the water. “Yeah, really.”
“Well, I wanted to have sex.”
“Sorry, I’m not comfortable having sex when there’s a ghost stalking you.”
After being surrounded by the dead, she’d needed a reminder that she was among the living. She’d needed to be with her husband. “Then that explains why you didn’t even bother to look at me when I stripped down to nothing.”
He turned to her, shifted his gaze to her breasts, then to her mouth before meeting her eyes. “Trust me, I looked.”
“But?”
“Aside from not wanting a ghost to judge my performance?” He let out a sigh and looked away. “It didn’t seem right to do anything more than look after what went on at the trailer.”
“I told you I was fine. Denis—”
“Is dead. He’s haunting you. Touching you.” John fisted his hands in the towel. “Hurting you, and I can’t do a fucking thing about it.” He released the towel, then stood.
“Where are you going?”
“To cool off.”
“Please don’t be mad. I know this situation isn’t ideal, but I’m trying to make the best of our vacation.”
He knelt in front of her. “By breaking into a dead man’s home?”
“It’s not like he could complain.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asked, touching her chin and sliding his gaze to her neck.
She shifted her head away. They’d been over everything that had happened at the trailer and she didn’t want to go into it again. Yes, the dead man had marked her. He’d also scared the hell out of her. But she was alive, he wasn’t. From where she sat, she definitely had the upper hand.
Celeste Files: Unjust Page 6
