Celeste Files: Unjust

by Kristine Mason

  “How much do you want to bet the girl Denis shot is Jane Doe’s sister?” John asked.

  Jerry blew out a breath and stood. “Gabe, a deputy is going to take you back to your cell.”

  “Am I still going to be tried for murder?” Gabe asked.

  “We’ll be in touch with your attorney.”

  Celeste’s shoulders and wrists ached from being cuffed. Anxious to have them off, she let John help her up, and walk toward the door.

  “Celeste,” Gabe called.

  She turned. “Yes?”

  “Thank you for coming today. I hope Denis doesn’t bother you anymore.”

  For the first time since touching Denis’s boot, the air around her was lighter, cleaner, cooler. She wasn’t one hundred percent certain, but exposing Denis for the vile creature he had been, and showing him that she wasn’t weak and couldn’t be controlled might have driven her ghost away. “Me, too,” she said, and left the room.

  While Nick removed the handcuffs, she stared at her husband’s back, willing him to turn and look at her. She wanted him to see her, not the ghost that had possessed her. When he didn’t, she held back the disappointment. “Is it still okay for me to go through the rest of the photos?” she asked Jerry.

  “Absolutely. We’ve got a room ready for you.”

  When Jerry started to walk away, she tapped John’s shoulder. “Are you still going to stay with me?” she asked, worried he wouldn’t. She could handle the readings and visions alone, but she’d rather have him by her side. These poor women had been abused and discarded as if they were broken objects. Being surrounded by their damaged spirits had made her heart ache for each of them. With John in the room, her heart still ached, but at least he had been there for her, keeping her grounded, and reminding her that she was alive and loved.

  He finally faced her, his eyes unreadable. “Sure.”

  Relieved, she smiled and placed her hand in his. She knew their problems weren’t over, but she was hopeful. Once she was certain, she would find a way to convince him Denis was gone. They also needed to discus the stress that weighed on both of them, and how they had to learn to lean on each other for support better than they had been.

  Jerry opened a door. “Nick and I are going to head to the hospital and meet with Jane Doe. Do you need anything before we leave?”

  John stopped at the threshold. “A deputy outside the room and one on the other side of the one-way mirror.”

  Jerry slid his gaze to Nick’s and nodded. “That was the plan.”

  John gave her a weak smile, and entered the room. Shocked and embarrassed, she followed her husband. She understood last night couldn’t have been easy for John, and she figured she would need to prove to him that she could learn to control her mind in order to prevent another possession from ever happening again.

  But his lack of trust hurt. Badly.

  Chapter 13

  CELESTE STEPPED FROM the Sheriff’s Office, and squinted against the late afternoon sun. “Thanks for sticking it out with me,” she said, walking with John to the rented sedan. “That took longer than I expected.”

  “If the leads from the visions pan out, it’ll be worth it.”

  She prayed he was right. Of the twenty-five pictures she’d gone through this morning and afternoon, she’d been able to reach seventeen women. A few had given her their full names, others had given her the location of their bodies, and a couple had showed her the faces of their killers. Between the women she’d connected with, there had been dozens and dozens of other clues that the detectives might be able to use, but one thing each woman had in common had been who had abducted them—Denis.

  God, she hated him, and hoped that wherever he was now, he understood the true meaning of suffering. Since her part in the investigation had come to an end, she told herself that would be the last time she’d think about Denis. He wasn’t worth her energy. Instead, she needed to focus on what she’d learned from him. That allowing the small stresses, or even the big ones, to weigh her down only weakened her spirit, and left her mind vulnerable to attacks. Essentially, Denis had attacked her. He’d robbed her of control, and had come between her and John. But she’d fought him. Unfortunately, that fight wasn’t over.

  John’s request for a deputy to watch over them during her readings had upset her. While his lack of trust was understandable, she wondered how long it would take to regain his trust and prove to him that he could sleep peacefully without worrying about being stabbed during the night.

  Once they were seated in the car, he turned to her. “Do you want to pick up food on the way to the condo, order in or eat the lunchmeat in the fridge? Or, since it’s only five-thirty, we could go to the beach or the pool if you want.”

  “It’s your call. I’m more interested in a shower and a couple glasses of wine, than food. I don’t have much of an appetite anyway.”

  He pulled out of the parking lot. “So no beach or pool?”

  “I’m sorry, hon. I’m drained. You can go without me. We still have three more days here. Let’s plan on making the most of them starting tomorrow.”

  “I’m training the next two mornings.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll hang out with Barney. When you’re finished, we can find something fun to do.”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess what?” she asked, growing irritated. Yes, she’d unknowingly tried to stab him and probably had no right to be irritated, but she couldn’t help it. She hadn’t asked for Denis to enter her life. She hadn’t wanted to be part of murder and human trafficking investigations. They couldn’t turn back time, she couldn’t take back fishing with Barney and reeling in Denis’s boot. All she—they—could do was move forward.

  “I guess we can find something fun to do. Not sure what, though.”

  “I can dress up like a clown and make you animal balloons,” she said, hoping her sarcasm came across. She didn’t like the passive-aggressive crap John was pulling on her. Normally, if he had an issue with her, he came right out and said what was on his mind. There’d been times when she’d wished he’d kept his mouth shut, but she was certain that during the two and a half years of their marriage, he’d felt the same way about her. Regardless, once they’d had it out, knew where the other stood, they were able to work through whatever issue was on the agenda. If anything, those arguments brought them closer. But John showed no signs of wanting to be close. Instead, he was pushing her away.

  “Cut the crap, Celeste. I don’t need it.”

  “Like I need yours.”

  He released a deep breath. “I don’t know why you’re being hostile. If anyone should be pissed, it should be me. I’m the one who was the brunt of your ghost’s sick game. Then I had to sit for hours while you hung out with dead women.”

  “Well, that wasn’t too much of a dick thing to say.”

  “Are you calling me a dick?”

  “I am. What’s wrong with you? And don’t say a word about last night. I’ve apologized, and you know damned well I would never intentionally hurt you. If I recall, you were the one who wanted to be with me when I was doing the readings on the dead women. Just last night you were telling me how proud you were because of what I was able to do for them, and how you thought this case was bringing us closer.” She crossed her arms, and looked out the window. “If you don’t remember, you said those things right before we made love.”

  “I remember.” He drove into their condo complex. “I also remember waking up to a knife in my pillow.” He pulled into the parking space in front of their condo and slammed the gear into PARK. “Damn it, Celeste, I don’t know how the hell to deal with this.” He killed the engine, and rested his head against the headrest. “I love you. I would do anything for you, and I know you know that.”

  He’d killed for her. But could he live with a woman who could become possessed and kill him? Her daughter’s dimpled smile and bright blue eyes suddenly filled her mind. Tears blurred her vision. “Please don’t say anything else.” She
opened the door and slid out of the car. Denis might be gone, but he’d never be forgotten. John wouldn’t let it. She could see the future without an ounce of clairvoyance. John would constantly watch her, watch over her, calculate her behavior from day to day, and how she acted toward Olivia. Because in the back of his mind, he would always wonder if another spirit would possess her and, this time, kill him or their daughter.

  Her hand trembled as she shoved the key into the door and let herself into the condo. Before she could slam it shut, John followed her inside. “What did you think I was going to say?” he asked.

  She swiped the tears from her cheek, and headed for the bathroom. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

  He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “I do. Look, I’m sorry I’m having a hard time letting go of last night. But you have to understand where I’m coming from.”

  Her throat tightened. “I do, and I think you’re right. I don’t know how I would feel if I was in your place. It’s easy for me to be pissed off that you can’t let it go and realize I’d never hurt you.”

  “You think I’m right about what?”

  “Leaving me and taking Olivia with you.” She looked toward the bedroom. “My bags are already packed, I’m going to see if I can find a place to stay until we can take the company jet home.”

  “Damn it, I never said anything about leaving or taking Olivia away from you.”

  “Then answer me this, and be honest…are you comfortable sleeping next to me tonight—with the knives in the drawer?”

  “Not until I know for sure that Denis is gone.”

  While she couldn’t blame him, his response cut deep. He didn’t trust her. “Will this uncertainty continue when we get back to Chicago?”

  “I don’t know.” He held her in place when she tried to pull away. “I’m sorry if that’s not the answer you want to hear. You wanted honest, and I’m giving it to you.” He cupped her cheeks. “I do love you, I just don’t know how do deal with this right now.”

  She shoved him. “I’ll tell you how. Suck it up and be the strong man I married.” She ignored the shock in his eyes and shoved him again. “It’s just me and you right now. Take our daughter—who, by the way will likely be just like me—out of the equation. No, actually, keep her in for a sec. If you don’t know how to deal with me, then you’re not going to know how to deal with Olivia when she starts seeing things. What are you going to do then?”

  “There’s no telling if she’ll have what you have. She might not get it.”

  She half-laughed at the ridiculousness coming out of his mouth. “You make it sound like an infection or disease.”

  He shoved a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “Well, you did.” She tossed her arms in the air. “I need less stress in my life, not more, and more is what you’re giving me.”

  “You tried to stab me,” John shouted. “How do you keep missing that major detail? I’m sorry if I can’t let it go. I’m sorry if I can’t let a ton of what you can do go.”

  “Then maybe you should be the one to go,” she yelled back. “It’d be easier for you to shack up over at Polina’s Paradise than for me to find a hotel. This way, instead of worrying about your wife attacking you during the night, you’ll only have to worry about Vlad’s alligator making a snack out of your foot.”

  “You’re kicking me out?” he asked, as if shocked she’d do such a thing.

  “Yeah, I am.” She wiped away the last of her tears, then stabbed his chest with her finger. “If you don’t leave, I will.” She turned and walked away.

  She gasped when he pinned her against the wall. “I don’t like being threatened.” When he leaned in, she caught the hint of his cologne. The smell of him, the anger, the hunger and desperation in his eyes shouldn’t have her wanting him, not when he’d hurt her, and not when she was just as angry. But she did want him. On every level.

  “Just go,” she said, holding his gaze and avoiding his mouth. She ached to kiss him, to go back to where they were before Denis.

  “I don’t want to.”

  She swallowed, and looked away. “I want you to. I think we both need a break from each other.”

  “Denis might come back.”

  “He’s gone. I feel it. And even if I’m wrong, what are you going to do about it?” The hurt in his eyes had her regretting her words. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “Nope. You’re right. I’m a pussy, and no match for a ghost.”

  “I never said that.”

  He slid his hand behind her neck. “You did, and you’re right. I think I’m better off leaving.”

  She gripped his forearm before he pulled away. “For tonight?” she asked, panicked. She had no problem being alone. Before John, she’d lived by herself for years. Now that reality was setting in and he was really leaving, she didn’t want him to go, and worried he might not come back. Why would he? She didn’t just come with a little baggage. She’d come into their marriage with a steam trunk packed so full it couldn’t be sealed shut.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. “For now,” he said, then kissed her. Before she had the chance to cling to him, to hold him close, he pulled away, then went into the bedroom.

  Ten minutes later, she stood by the window. She pulled the drapes to the side, watched him drive away, then dropped them once his taillights disappeared. The cozy condo wasn’t as cozy without John here, but she’d asked him to leave, and had no one to blame but herself. This time apart might be good for them. She didn’t know how, but telling herself this kept the tears under control.

  After she made sure all the doors were locked, she poured a glass of wine, then unpacked her suitcase and toiletries. Halfway through the glass, and with all of her things back in drawers, she turned on the shower. Once she’d stood under the hot spray and washed away everything that had happened today, she had a choice of TV, starting a book or going to bed. Since it was barely eight, and she wasn’t ready for bed, she nixed that idea. And she since the book she’d brought with her was a romance, and romance was the furthest thing from her mind, she opted for mindless TV.

  Fresh glass of wine on the coffee table, her favorite camisole and lounge pants comforting her, she curled up on the couch and flipped through the channels. Her stomach grumbled, but the thought of moving off the couch and making something to eat exhausted her. When her cell phone rang, she quickly checked the caller ID hoping John was ready to come back, but the call was from Maxine. Disappointed, and not in the mood to discuss her shortcomings and how they’d led her to this point, she let the call go into voicemail.

  She went back to flipping through channels, found another documentary on arctic animals—who knew there were so many—and opted for the home improvement show, Renovate or Relocate. John hated the show, because every time she watched it, she would come up with ideas for what they could do to improve the fantasy house they hadn’t found or owned yet. Sadness settled around her. The future was so up in the air, she could no longer be certain they would sell the condo and buy a house. Yes, she’d brought up divorce, not because she wanted one, but because she loved her husband enough that she’d rather they separate than have him hating or resenting her.

  She rested her head against a throw pillow. John could never hate her—at least she hoped not. Resentment was another thing. He was a man’s man, and prided himself on being the protector. He wasn’t an old school guy with a fifties mentality where he thought the little woman had her place and didn’t need to work. John liked the money her bakery brought in, but money had never been an issue—not to him. For her, as a former accountant, it was a hot-spot. She fretted about finances, what they should be doing for the future, for their retirement, for their daughter’s college account. She worried about the bakery’s sales, about the bills, about every fucking thing.

  “Maxine’s right,” she mumbled, and burrowed deeper into the comfortable couch. She was a ball of stress. Just last week, she
’d freaked out when she’d forgotten to send in an extra pair of clothes to Olivia’s daycare. Why had that mattered? If Olivia had messed herself, Celeste could have easily slipped away from the bakery and taken care of it.

  What she needed was to learn to relax. There was a school for just about everything. Someone needed to create one that taught people to not sweat the small stuff.

  Renovate or Relocate ended. Although she liked how the home renovation had turned out, she would have relocated to the one the realtor had found for the show’s couple. The craftsman-style home was something she could picture living in with her family. She closed her eyes which burned with fresh tears. Her family was John and Olivia. Right now, neither were with her. She missed her daughter, but after fighting with John, and with how they’d both left things between them, she missed him even more.

  Heat crept up her back. She opened her eyes, as a cloud of dark smoke hovered in front of her face.

  “Miss me?” Denis asked.

  Fear lodged in her throat. She stared at the cloud. Pressed her lips together to keep from crying out and letting it in her mouth. Then it morphed. Manifested into a face with no eyes or lips.

  “Go away,” she said, reaching for her cell phone. The phone flew across the room. Heart racing, she rushed from the sofa to the front door. The cloud beat her. Swelled, grew larger, forced her to step back.

  “I’m not going anywhere until I get my revenge.”

  “Your need for vengeance is what killed you, not Gabe or the girl.”

  The face in the cloud frowned. “You’re wrong,” it yelled, its mouth gaping open to the point she worried it would try to consume her.

  “It’s true,” she shouted back, and used her arms as shields.

  The cloud grinned. “Are you telling me this is my fault?”

  She swallowed, shifted her gaze to the phone that had slid under the chair near the window, to the front door. Screw the phone, she needed out of here. Now. She could knock on neighboring doors and ask them to call John. He would come for her, but he would be furious. He would also know that she’d been wrong about Denis, that he wasn’t gone, that he was still haunting her.