Celeste Files: Unjust

by Kristine Mason

  Something hot burned past her in a blur of dark gray. Frustrated and angry at this game he played, especially when he had been the one to seek her out, she attempted to ground herself. She concentrated on the Earth again, specifically the Gulf of Mexico. When the boat captain had spoken, she’d detected the hint of an accent. It had been slightly Brooklynish, yet there had been something else to it. She’d spent her entire life living in either Wisconsin or Illinois, but this man had spoken similar to a salesman who she used to buy from when she’d been running her dad’s diner. That man had transplanted from New Orleans to Wisconsin to follow his wife’s job, and she remembered his distinct ‘y’at’ accent. Plus, the dead captain’s boat had been called the Cajun Lady. She honed in on the coast of Louisiana. Smelled salt water. Heard waves lapping and seagulls cawing.

  As if suddenly strapped to a missile, her body rocketed toward the Earth. The sun bright, she flew through clouds, over oceans, then mountains and fields of wheat. Fascinated by what her mind was capable of, she took in every detail and hoped she’d remember it all in the morning. She couldn’t wait to share this experience with Maxine and discover what it meant. Was this a vision? A trance? Or was she really connecting with the spirit world?

  The sun disappeared and she was ripped from the outside, only to be thrust into a dimly-lit room. Wood paneling coated the walls. An aluminum mini-blind hung haphazardly from a boarded window. Insulation dangled from a hole in the ceiling. The floor was nothing but a concrete slab, but old linoleum tiles remained near a closed door. In the center of the room a young woman lay bound and gagged on a filthy twin mattress. The woman’s long, matted, dark hair covered her face, while a flimsy, dirty and torn nightgown covered her body. The woman didn’t move, and Celeste wasn’t sure if she was dead or alive.

  She looked around the room for the gray smoke. When she didn’t see it, she moved closer to the mattress. The door burst open. Celeste lunged back. The woman, her eyes wild with fear, quickly scrambled to her knees and stared at the door. Celeste followed her gaze as a man stepped into the room holding a camera. Between his thinning brown hair, tanned slightly weathered skin and small paunch hanging over his jeans, she placed the man in his late forties or early fifties.

  The man stepped inside the room, kicking the door behind him. “Where y’at, sugar?”

  Celeste tensed as a chill coated her skin. Knowing that voice, she stared harder at the man, pictured him underwater, his mouth sealed shut as he tried to hold his breath, his eyes wide with fear, his hair swaying to the ebb and flow of the current as it dragged him under. The man was Denis Comeaux, the dead boat captain.

  “Come see what I am.”

  His words taunted her. She looked to the young woman on the bed, who cried and groaned, then back to Denis. Celeste didn’t want to see what he was or how bad the man could be. She did not want to be here, wanted to be back in bed with her husband.

  Hot air wrapped around her. Celeste waited for the ghost to speak, but nothing came. Instead, the air, the heat, enveloped her and kept her immobile. Heart beating hard, she prayed the woman survived whatever was about to happen. She prayed the woman was still alive.

  A phone rang. Denis pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and answered. “Yeah, I got her. I think you’ll be happy. Eighteen, nice tits and ass, long dark hair like you wanted. I’ll take pictures of her now and send ’em over.” Denis paused, then shook his head. “Are you telling me that was a requirement? After the bullshit I went through to get her?” He sighed. “Fine. Hang tight.” Denis stepped forward and removed the woman’s gag. “¿Eres virgen? No me mientas.”

  “Sí,” the woman responded. “Por favor no me hagas daño. Por favor, déjame ir a casa.”

  Celeste now wished she’d kept up with the Spanish classes she’d taken in college. The only words she recognized were ‘virgin’, ‘lie’, ‘please’ and ‘home’.

  “You ain’t goin’ home, sugar,” Denis said, and put the phone back to his ear. “She claims she’s a virgin, but she could be lying. Since this wasn’t something we discussed, either you take her as is, or she goes to the next highest bidder. Look for those pictures. I’ll want an answer within the hour. After that, the price goes up.” He ended the call, then pocketed the phone. Raising the camera, he aimed it at the woman. “Say cheese.”

  When the camera flashed, Celeste winced, and the heat that had been confining her evaporated. She focused on the woman, who continued to cry and groan, and tried to wrap her brain around what was happening here. The camera flashed again, causing Celeste to stagger back and the room to fade.

  She wasn’t ready yet. She wanted to know who this woman was and what had happened to her. As the room continued to grow hazy, Denis moved toward the woman and ripped her nightgown. The woman cried out, and Celeste’s heart ached for her, along with her entire body, when another flash went off, flickering like lightening in a dark thundercloud.

  Then everything went black. Terrified of being back in the darkness again, Celeste reached out, but connected with nothing. Heat surrounded her, and she froze.

  “That was just an appetizer to whet your taste buds.” Denis’s voice filled her head. “You do as I say and we’ll get along just fine.”

  “What do you want from me?” she asked, and tried to slow her racing heart.

  “Revenge.”

  Celeste’s body plunged. She squeezed her eyes tight and clawed at the air, hoping, praying she could latch onto something, anything to stop her from falling.

  “Jesus,” John shouted. “Wake up.”

  Celeste opened her eyes, realized she was back in bed with John, and quickly sat upright. She looked to where his hands gripped her wrists, then to his face. Light from the partially opened bathroom door streamed into the room, touching on the worry in his eyes and the anger lining his face.

  She pulled her arms free. She didn’t need his anger right now. She needed his patience and understanding. He turned on the nightstand light. Oh, God. She needed bandages for his arms and chest. “Did I do that to you?” she asked, and stared at the scrapes dotting with blood.

  “You were clawing at the sheet, the air…me. What the hell kind of nightmare was that?”

  “I…it wasn’t.” She blew out a shaky breath. “I don’t even know how to begin to explain what just happened.” She pulled the sheets aside and slid off the bed. “The dead boat captain came to see me.”

  “What? Are you sure it wasn’t just a dream?”

  “I’m not sure what to think. One minute I was sound asleep, the next I was…why are you staring at me like that?” she asked, alarmed by the fear in John’s eyes.

  “Your neck.”

  She clutched her throat. “What about it?”

  He rose to his knees and scooted across the mattress, knocking their camera out from under the sheets she’d just tossed aside. He looked to the camera, then to her. “Move your hand.” When she did, he straightened and swallowed. “There’s a mark along your neck.” He grabbed her hands and flipped them palms up. “Your wrists, too.”

  She met his gaze. “He held me down.”

  “And did what to you, Celeste?” John asked, his voice shaking with outrage.

  “Forced me to go with him. He wanted me to see how bad he could be,” she said, then told him everything. By the time she’d finished, she was back on the bed, sitting next to him. “I don’t know what to make of what I saw, or the woman he was holding in the room.”

  “Human trafficking is something to consider. I don’t think most pimps would be too concerned about selling to the highest bidder. What I’m wondering is who he wants revenge against, and what length he’ll go to use you to get it.”

  “So you believe me?”

  He tucked a lock of her curls behind her ear. “I absolutely don’t want to. I just want to have a nice vacation with my wife. But I can’t deny the bruising around your neck and wrists, or the ones we found around your ankles. You’ve hurt yourself in the past, but nothing lik
e this.” He nudged her chin and studied her neck. “I wouldn’t have to think hard to figure out how you could have done this on your own, but I know you wouldn’t. And if this…ghost could do this, what else can he do? Would Maxine know?”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “I’ll call her in the morning.”

  He looked at the clock.

  “I am not calling her at four in the morning.” She let out a breath. “Let me get something for the cuts on your chest and arms, then we can grab a few more hours of sleep.” Not that she’d be able to sleep. This dead man would be a problem, and nothing like she’d experienced in the past. When the dead had called upon her before, they had always been the victims. This man might have been a drowning victim, but if he’d been involved in something as heinous as human trafficking, he deserved whatever had happened to him.

  As she climbed out of bed, John picked up the camera. “Why is this in our bed?” he asked, and turned it on. “I left it on the dresser.”

  “Maybe I got up and did something with it. Maybe the flashes from the camera I saw when I was with Denis were my own creation, if that makes any sense.”

  “It would if you hadn’t woken up next to me with your nails digging into my skin,” John said.

  Guilt and anger settled in her chest. “I told you I was sorry about that. I didn’t know what I was doing and—”

  He held up a hand, dropped the camera on the bed, and rushed to the closet. He whipped open the door, shoved hangers and clothes aside, then left the room.

  She followed behind. “What are you doing?” Stunned, she watched as he opened every closet and cabinet, checked the windows, then the front and patio doors. She grabbed his arm when he moved past her back into the bedroom. “What are you looking for?”

  “I have no idea.” He picked up the camera from the bed. “Look. Explain how in the hell this was taken?”

  She glanced to the camera and covered her mouth. Terror rushed through her as she stared at a picture of her and John, lying side by side in the bed. Coldness settled over her, entered her limbs and kept her frozen.

  “You saw the flash of a camera,” John said, his tone raw, frantic. “But you couldn’t have taken this picture.” He dropped the camera and gripped her by the shoulders. “Either someone was in our condo, or your ghost is fucking with us.” He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “Baby, we need help.”

  She hung on to him and closed her eyes. Memories of the woman on the mattress, along with the black abyss, the fear, the dread, had her opening her eyes and searching for Denis. Was he watching them now? Would he come to her again if she tried to go back to sleep? Would he hurt John to gain what he wanted? How far would the dead man go to exact his revenge?

  She held John tighter. “Let’s wait until a reasonable hour, and I’ll call Maxine.”

  “I’m not waiting on anything. I’ve got a CORE agency only a couple miles from this condo. If they can’t help, I’m calling Ian.” He leaned back. “I should call him anyway.”

  “No, don’t. He and Cami are busy with Olivia. I want her to be their focus. Just wait a few hours before you start making calls. I doubt anyone from ATL is going to believe this.”

  He held her gaze for a moment before shifting it to her neck. “I wish this boat captain wasn’t already dead, because I want to hurt him for what he did to you.”

  She touched his cheek. “But he is, so now we need to figure out what he wants and get rid of him.”

  “What if we can’t?”

  Chapter 4

  POLINA’S PARADISE WAS not what Celeste had expected for the headquarters of an underground organization. As John parked behind Barney’s station wagon, she stared at the inviting Key West-style house with envy. If Ian had given John more notice about the Florida trip, they could have booked a place like this, rather than the tiny, yet cozy, outdated condo. She couldn’t complain, though. The condo came with a pool and was close to the beach. It also had less places for her ghost to hide.

  “I wish Lola would have either come to the condo, or let us meet her at her house,” she said, anxious to discuss what, if anything, Lola had learned about the dead boat captain. “Her people are going to think I’m crazy.”

  Shortly after John had discovered the photographs on their camera, they’d sat at the kitchen table and discussed their options. Since neither of them were sure how Lola would handle a ghost hunt, they’d decided to wait until after Celeste had spoken with Maxine before calling Lola. Maxine had been no help. At first, her mentor had suggested that she’d had an out-of-body experience, or a case of sleep paralysis. But once Celeste had told Maxine about the photographs, and the marks on her neck, wrists and ankles, Maxine had grown concerned. Her only advice had been to find out what Denis wanted, and give it to him.

  Only Denis wanted revenge, not justice.

  After she’d spoken with Maxine, who’d promised to look into cases where spirits had physically harmed the living, John had called Lola. Although Celeste figured her future stepsister would probably think she was insane, Lola had promised to look into Denis Comeaux’s background, and to also speak with her contacts with the Collier County Sheriff’s Office. Why Lola would go to that length, Celeste wasn’t sure. The man had drowned during a storm, and Celeste wasn’t even sure if the bound and gagged woman had been real, or a figment of her over-active imagination.

  “Do you honestly care if Lola or anyone else from ATL thinks you’re crazy?” John asked.

  “No. But I don’t want them losing respect for you because you’re married to me.”

  “I care about you, not what they think of me. We need this ghost gone.”

  “Yes, he’s definitely ruining our vacation,” she said in an attempt to crack a lame joke.

  “Not mine. Based on the cars in the driveway, it looks like everyone is already here. After we talk about the dead captain, you and Barney can take off for the airboat tour, and I’ll get our training session started early. I want to finish in good time.” He grinned. “I plan on seeing you in a bikini later.”

  Although Barney was part of ATL, he never worked in the field, so it hadn’t been necessary for him to stick around for John’s training sessions to learn the proper way to work a crime scene. Other than describing his role as Jack-of-all-trades, he’d said very little about what he did for ATL, or the organization’s agents.

  “Beach or pool?” she asked, grateful John still planned to make the most of their trip. Then again, she would prefer to not hang out at their condo, since the three times Denis had made his presence known had been there.

  “I haven’t been to the beach yet, so I’d love to go there. Ryan recommended a beach bar we can walk to. He said the place serves the best fresh seafood in Everglades City.”

  “Beach, cocktails and seafood. Sounds like the perfect plan to me.” She exited their rental car. “What time do you think you’ll be finished here?”

  He took her hand as they made their way across the beautifully landscaped yard, toward the large front porch. “I’m hoping we’ll be to the beach by one.”

  “The timing works. Barney has to give tours starting around then.” She stopped when they reached the porch. “I love how they have the ferns hanging above the rails. I’d love to find a house in Chicago that has a porch even half this size.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I thought we had a deal.”

  Yesterday, after they’d made love in the shower, they’d dressed, then had gone to dinner. As they’d enjoyed a delicious meal and a bottle of wine, they had discussed how to alleviate not only her stress, but John’s, too. As they’d talked, Celeste had realized she wasn’t the only one under pressure, and that they needed to work together to help give each other well-needed breaks. They’d also decided to avoid certain topics during the rest of their vacation. Money and moving—two of their biggest stressors—were off limits until they returned to Chicago. Her psychic stuff was supposed to be, too, but unfortunately that had changed.

  “I
was simply making an observation,” she said.

  “Like you had during breakfast when you brought up Olivia’s college fund?”

  She sighed. “Sorry. I have issues.”

  He knocked on the front door. “Trust me. I know,” he said with a grin, then chuckled when she gave his arm a light slug.

  Carrying his alligator, the Russian, Vlad Aristov, opened the door and smiled. “Vlad happy to see John and Celeste. Come. Vlad have made coffee.”

  They followed Vlad into the living room. In there were the rest of the ATL team, minus Ryan’s brother, Shane Monahan, who was taking care of the airboat business during the training sessions. She’d met the man yesterday, and had learned that Shane had his own air charter business. Since his role with ATL was transportation, like Barney, he didn’t need to take part in John’s training course.

  Celeste waved to them. “Morning.”

  “How are you?” Lola asked, concern in her almond-shaped eyes. She stood and approached Celeste, her gaze locked on the marks along Celeste’s neck. “Oh, my God, Celeste.”

  Celeste glanced around the table and realized everyone was staring at her. “I’m fine. Really.”

  Barney cleared his throat. “I ain’t. Lola told me what happened last night, but only because I might’ve told everyone about your vision,” he said, making imaginary quotation marks in the air. “Sorry, I know you asked me to keep it to myself.”

  “Vlad have vision once,” the Russian said, and handed her and John coffee mugs.

  “You’re so full of it,” Harrison Fairclough, ATL’s computer guy, said. Harrison had trained under CORE’s computer forensic analyst prior to moving to Florida to join ATL. From what Celeste gathered, he hadn’t needed much training, and had served time for hacking. He also lived in Polina’s Paradise with Vlad.

  “Vlad tell truth. When Vlad small child—”

  “Wait.” Melanie Scarlett, another ATL agent, who also worked as the ice cream lady at the boat tour company, glanced to the wood floors. “Where’s your gator?” she asked with a thick southern drawl.