Celeste Files: Unlocked Part 8

His jaw tightened. "What do you mean you know?"

"I heard it in your voice when you were calling me."

"But you were unconscious." He shook his head and closed his eyes. "G.o.d, I'm such an a.s.s."

"What are you talking about?"

He slipped out of her, then reached down and grabbed his boxers and sweats. "What kind of man makes love to his wife after...never mind." He picked up the discarded towel and handed it to her. "I still think we should go to the ER. Does your head hurt? Maybe you slipped and fell. That could explain the seizure."

"I wanted to make love. So please don't beat yourself up over it." She stood and wrapped the damp towel around her. "I didn't hit my head and I didn't have a seizure."

"And you didn't see what I did." He pulled on his shirt, then held her by the shoulders. "Head injuries aren't something to mess with," he said, shaking his head again and looking away. "d.a.m.n it. We should've never had s.e.x."

"Then why did you?" she asked, growing irritated. He was taking a beautiful moment and trashing it with unnecessary guilt. If he'd give her a second, she could explain everything.

"Because I'm selfish and I was worried. Making love rea.s.sured me you were fine and, for a little while, it knocked the image of you convulsing in the bathtub from my head."

"Again, I did not convulse and I don't need a doctor. I know exactly what happened."

He stared at her. "Was it the wine? Did you drink too much?"

As she walked toward him, her stomach filled with nervous energy. "I had a couple of sips, nothing more."

"Well, there has to be a logical explanation for what happened to you. A doctor could-"

"There is no logical explanation. Open your mind, John. I can spell it out for you, but I think you know exactly what happened to me."

His eyes narrowed. "Son of a b.i.t.c.h." He took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. "Son of a b.i.t.c.h," he repeated, only harsher. When he faced her, the anger and accusation in his eyes cut her to the core. "A trance?"

"Kinda, sorta."

"Kinda...you were f.u.c.king drowning in the bathtub. That's fan-frickin-tastic. So you're back to the psychic stuff? When were you planning on telling me? Were you going to tell me?"

Knowing she'd been wrong, that she should have been honest from the start, she looked away searching for the right words.

"No answer? Nice. We have ourselves one h.e.l.l of a marriage." He started for the bedroom door. "I love you, but I won't live like this. And I won't allow Olivia's life to be put at risk."

"What are you saying?"

"Make it go away, or Olivia and I will."

Furious, especially because he was being a jerk after they'd just made love, Celeste rushed to him and grabbed his arm before he could leave the room. "How dare you threaten me? You want to leave? Don't let the door hit you in the a.s.s. But if you think you're taking my daughter with you, be prepared to fight."

"Who? Ian?" He shook his head. "I don't care how much money your father has, this is a battle you'd both lose. I won't allow Olivia's life to be in jeopardy."

"A little dramatic, don't you think?"

"Not at all. What if Olivia had been in the tub instead? You don't remember your trances and could have unknowingly hurt her while you were living out some dead person's last moments. So, no. I don't think I'm being dramatic. I'm being realistic."

"Since Olivia wasn't in the bathtub, there's no point in coming up with such a horrible worst-case scenario. And it turns out I've learned how to ground myself enough to remember my visions."

He gripped her shoulders and stared at her with anger and resentment. "You've learned? How long has this been going on? Weeks? Months?"

"Days," she admitted. "The first vision happened Wednesday evening." She wanted to be honest, but chose to leave out the details of how Olivia had been strapped in her highchair, with the stove on and the water running. With the way John was reacting, telling him the whole truth could have him making good on his threats.

"You said the first. How many have there been?"

"Tonight was the fourth. The other two were under the supervision of a woman Ian knows."

The fury crossing his face had her trying to pull free. "You told your father before you told me," he said, his tone unforgiving and accusing. "Oh, yeah. We definitely have a great marriage."

"Yes, I told him. It scared me and you were out of town. I needed help and he recommended that I meet with Maxine."

"Who's she? Your psychic teacher?" he asked with heavy sarcasm.

"If that's what you want to call her," she said, growing angrier by the second. "She's been extremely helpful, and taught me how to ground myself so I can control and remember my visions."

He chuckled without humor. "Are you telling me you meant to attempt to drown yourself in the bathtub?"

d.a.m.n it. He had a valid point. "Of course not."

"Then either you need to go back to psychic school or find a new teacher. Because what I saw was anything but controlled." He released her. "I'm done with this conversation," he said, moving across the room to the nightstand where she kept the baby monitor.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking this." He held up the monitor. "So I can hear Olivia while I'm sleeping on the couch."

Hurt and angered, she blocked the doorway. "I would never do anything to Olivia."

"Not intentionally."

"Not ever. For the record, when I was in the trance, I heard you calling for me."

"Then why didn't you snap out of it?"

"Because I wasn't ready," she answered honestly, and knowing John deserved the whole truth, she added, "I helped a woman who'd died pa.s.s over into the light." G.o.d, did she really just say that out loud? To her own ears the statement sounded ridiculous.

He drew in a breath. "Well, that's not something you hear everyday. Did you help her pack her bags, too?"

She let go of the towel and shoved him. "You're such a d.i.c.k." She walked to her dresser and opened the top drawer. "You knew what I was when you married me." She put on underwear, then a bra. "What's disappointing is that I thought you believed in what I could do."

"If I didn't believe, then I wouldn't be so p.i.s.sed off right now," he shouted.

She stepped into a pair of yoga pants, then grabbed a t-shirt from the drawer. "Keep your voice down before you wake up the baby," she said, pulling the garment over her head as she pushed past him. She stopped in the laundry room for a plastic grocery bag and a roll of paper towels, then walked back into the bedroom. John remained near the door, jaw clenched and brows drawn together in anger.

Whatever. Let him be p.i.s.sed off. The feeling was mutual.

With care, she plucked the bigger pieces of the broken wine gla.s.s from the tile, then used several paper towels to clean up the liquid and smaller shards of gla.s.s. Yes, she should have told John about the first vision, but his threats and cynicism were unnecessary. Instead of acting like an almighty jerk, he could have at least allowed her to explain what she'd been seeing in her visions. h.e.l.l, her friend's mom and secret half-sister had been murdered. How could she shut down her clairvoyance and let a killer go free?

After she finished cleaning up the mess, she tied the plastic bag, then tossed it in the bathroom trashcan. Although furious with John, she did understand his fears and frustrations. In Wisconsin, when they'd been searching for a serial killer, she'd heard one of her trances. Just listening to it had been unsettling. Tears filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She stood, then washed her hands.

She couldn't imagine how it had been for John to actually watch her go through the final moments of a victim's murder. And now John had witnessed another murder, this time in their bathroom and just down the hall from their daughter.

She swiped at her eyes. Tracy hadn't deserved to die, but at least the woman had found peace and love in death. Celeste would love to share what she'd experienced with John, but he was so d.a.m.ned close-minded, she wouldn't bother. Maxine would appreciate the beauty of Tracy's final moments, and hopefully help her shed light on the black figure and why she'd been unable to see his or her face. But John...he might love her, but could their marriage survive this?

The tears came harder and faster. She loved John and didn't want to lose what they had together. But she couldn't stop who and what she was.

She reached over and plucked a few tissues from the dispenser and wiped her nose, then jumped when John rested a hand on her shoulder. Not ready to face him and worried they would both say something they'd later regret, she kept her back to him and remained silent.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice raw with anguish. "When I found you under the water, your body jerking, I was so d.a.m.ned scared. Celeste, look at me. Please."

When she faced him and saw the regret and worry etched on his face, she couldn't stop her chin from wobbling or the tears from continuing. "I'm sorry," she managed.

"No. I'm the one who's sorry. You've got this gift that I don't understand, and I don't think you truly understand it, either. You're right. I knew what you were when I fell in love with you. I'll be honest. I was glad when it disappeared, because being able to communicate with the dead and see things people can't...it's something I don't know how to wrap my brain around."

He touched her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I'm an a.s.s for threatening you. I'd never take Olivia away. You're a great mom and I know how much you love her."

On a sob, she fell into his arms. He embraced her and kissed the top of her head. After a few moments pa.s.sed, he asked, "Can we talk about this?"

"Us, you mean?"

"No, what's suddenly happening to you again." He ran his hand down her back. "I'd like to think we're good."

Were they? Would John hold the psychic stuff over her head and use it as another excuse not to try for another child?

She met his gaze. "I wanted to talk to you about the visions and Maxine...she's the psychic teacher. But I know you like evidence, and I wanted to have that before I came to you about this. I also wanted to prove to myself that I do have my abilities under control." She sighed. "With Maxine's help yesterday and today, I really thought I did, until the bathtub incident."

"But you said you heard me."

"I did, but I didn't know you took me out of the tub. I also didn't plan to go into a trance and meet with a dead woman tonight."

"Come on, let's get out of the bathroom and talk this over." He led her into the bedroom, where they both took a seat on the bed. "Tell me everything," he said.

She started with the blanket, only this time she expressed her fear over snapping out of the vision and seeing Olivia screaming her head off in the highchair. Fortunately, he kept quiet and didn't become angry. He actually showed interest as she explained the details of her visions and her suspicion over who might have murdered Sandra. After she finished telling him about Tracy, he looked away, then leaned against the pile of pillows on the bed.

"Well?" she asked, nervous over what he might say. She'd dumped a lot on him and needed him to accept her, psychic flaws and all. She needed his support. His love and to know that their marriage was solid enough that he could handle what was happening to her. If she didn't have that, then how could their marriage survive?

"You have no proof Sandra was murdered."

Disappointed, she slumped on the pillows next to him. "That's what you have to say? After everything I just told you?" She'd experienced a woman's murder, and his focus was on evidence?

"It's true. Even if an autopsy was done, based on what you remembered from the first vision, an ME would still likely rule Sandra's death as suicide. She had access to morphine and she was dying of cancer." He rolled over and faced her. "I'm not saying I don't believe you, especially since Sandra had a child she'd kept secret from the family. Then there's the third party the attorney was waiting on before reading the will."

"I think that's Tracy." She let out a sigh. "I'm hoping George will help me find her. If we can rule her death a homicide, maybe the Chicago PD will step in and take another look at Sandra's suicide. Whatever was in her safe could be the link to who killed Sandra and Tracy."

"If she's dead," he reminded her. "And it sounds to me like adoption records might've been in the safe."

"I think you're right. And if that's the case, I would think copies of those records would be available in the state where Sandra put Tracy up for adoption."

"Maybe this alleged killer doesn't know this. Or, maybe there was something else in that safe. Money, photographs...I don't know." He shifted onto his elbow and rested his head in his hand. "You mentioned the ex-husband. What if Sandra had been blackmailing him? What if the ex's girlfriend had gone after her?"

"I don't know if the ex even has a girlfriend. The ex is a possibility, though. During that first vision I sensed Sandra knew her killer." She thought back to what she'd seen through Sandra's eyes, along with the woman's emotions. "There was also a sense of betrayal. Kelly and Lea said their dad had cheated on their mom and left her for another woman. Sandra and her ex-husband were together for thirty years, and according to Kelly, they weren't on good terms after the divorce." She shook her head. "No. The ex doesn't make sense. The betrayal I felt through Sandra had nothing to do with being cheated on, but went deeper than that."

"Like a daughter threatening to take her mother's life."

"Or son-in-law," she countered. "The reading I had when I used Lea's pen makes me wonder if she and Brandon are as financially stable as they'd like everyone to think."

"I think meeting with the private investigator is going to be the only way to get any concrete answers. Closed adoption cases could take a long time to resolve. Ian said phone records prove that George and Sandra had been talking for over a year. If George is any good, he might have a few leads for you."

Hope fluttered in her chest. "Does this mean you're good with me pursuing my own investigation?"

"I didn't say that, but I know you'll keep digging with or without my consent. And I don't want you to feel like you have to go behind my back or be afraid to discuss this with me." He touched her cheek. "I don't want you to ever feel like you can't trust me."

"Of course I trust you."

"You didn't with any of this and I get why. I like science and evidence. What you can do goes beyond my realm of knowledge and that makes me uncomfortable." He cupped her head. "Especially when I find out my wife was not only living out a woman's death, but helped her to the other side. What if you didn't come back to me? What if next time you don't want to leave?"

She laid her palm on his hand. "I told you how Maxine taught me to use the scribbling technique to help ground me. What I didn't tell you is that you ground me, too. When I was in the car and felt the signs of another vision coming on strong, I thought of you. Your face and my love for you helped me to control that vision. And when I got to Maxine's and did another reading, I once again brought you into my mind to help me get out of it." She leaned forward and kissed him. "I love you and I'll always come back to you and Olivia."

"But what if you can't? It's bad enough dead people use you to tell their stories. The white light? That freaks the h.e.l.l out of me."

She reached between them, then tugged at the hem of his shirt. "Take this off," she said, pushing the material over his torso.

"I already feel like an a.s.s for having s.e.x when I thought you'd just had a seizure. Don't use it to get out of this conversation."

"Who said anything about s.e.x? Take off the shirt. I have a point to prove."

"If I have to take off my shirt, I think it's only fair you take off yours," he said, sitting up and pulling his t-shirt over his head.

She also sat up and stared at his chest. While she loved everything about John's body, she especially loved the slabs of muscle and light dusting of hair along his chest. Before she became distracted by his hard abs and the memories of how they'd just made love, she forced her gaze to the scar on his upper bicep.

"Three months ago, when you came home from Florida with st.i.tches and told me you'd been shot, I was ready to ask you to resign from CORE." She ran the tip of her finger along the groove of the scar. With her other hand, she caressed the area of his chest where he'd also been shot. "If you hadn't been wearing a bulletproof vest, you would have been killed. I've always known your job could be dangerous. In Wisconsin, I experienced that danger firsthand. Whenever you go on an a.s.signment, I worry about the risks you take and what could happen to you. But I married you knowing that your career with CORE is something you love and that there would always be risks. Just like you went into our marriage knowing I'm psychic. I'm always a bundle of nerves over what might happen to you when you're working a case. What gets me through is knowing you'll do whatever it takes to come back to me and Olivia." She gripped his bicep. "Trust that I would do the same."

"Your firsthand experience with what I do happened because you're psychic." He crowded her, forcing her back against the pillows. "I don't want it to happen again. Olivia needs her mother." He moved on top of her body. "And I need my wife."

She skimmed her fingers up the back of his neck, then sifted them through his hair. "I need you, too," she said, drawing his head closer to hers and brushing her lips along his. "So much."

"I love you," he murmured, then captured her lips with such tenderness, it made her melt inside. She never wanted anything to come between them. Not his job, and certainly not her gift.

As he gave her a long, lingering kiss, the love and warmth she'd experience when she'd traveled into the light with Tracy returned. The woman had been right. This is where she belonged. Here, in her husband's embrace.

After he ended the kiss, he snuggled her against his warmth. Exhaustion and contentment set in and had her smothering a yawn and closing her eyes.

"Do you want me to go with you tomorrow to meet with the PI?" John asked.

"I'm good, unless you want to."

"Nope. I'm fine hanging with our girl."