She Wanted It All - Kathryn Casey [101]
Early Friday morning, with a signed warrant in his hands, Wines called Tracey’s attorney, Keith Hampton, and instructed him to bring Tracey in for booking.
“I’ll take care of it,” Hampton assured him.
Later that day, at the courthouse, Tracey was read her rights and booked for the shooting of Steve Beard. While she went through the system and made arrangements to put up a $25,000 bond, Wines went to her house with a search warrant.
Inside the house on Wilson, the crime scene unit combed through Tracey’s possessions, looking for anything that tied her to the shooting. Many of the items they confiscated that day would yield no real clues. Tracey’s computer and two zip drives and a stack of videos would all be deemed worthless to the investigation. The videos were nothing more than home movies, many with her cats and dogs. But on a backroom bookshelf Wines found framed photos of Tracey and Celeste. In a box he discovered even more, including photos from the lake house party, with Celeste sitting on Tracey’s lap.
When Wines happened upon Tracey’s journals from St. David’s and Timberlawn, he put those in the box as well. Back at his office, he read through them. On page after page Tracey poured her heart out. It was obvious that her relationship with Celeste was much more than a brief affair. As Wines saw it, Tracey was obsessed with Celeste.
A birthday card completed the picture for him. With a flowered heart on the front it read: “For the One I Love. “Any doubts Wines had about whether Tracey’s interest was reciprocated ended when he saw the signature: “Love, Celeste.”
Wines was cataloguing the evidence when Keith Hampton stopped in after walking Tracey through the process. They talked, and then Wines walked him to the door. “Thanks for taking care of this for us,” he said. “Hope to see you again.”
Hampton shook his hand, then looked at Wines intently and said, “I’m sure you will.”
As the defense attorney walked away, Wines thought, He’s telling me Tracey has something to barter with.
While Keith Hampton insinuated the possibility of a deal, Celeste worried about evidence that she and the woman now charged with her husband’s shooting were lovers. One afternoon in the car, she called Cindy Light, the photographer. Light had heard about the shooting and was surprised to hear from Celeste so soon.
“How’s Steve? How are you?” she asked.
“He’s in the hospital,” Celeste said. “Do you have the photos from Tracey’s party?”
Light thought for a minute, stunned. It seemed an odd request just days after an attempted murder. “No,” she said. “I gave them to you, negatives and all.”
“Okay,” Celeste said, and hung up.
Afterward, Cindy realized that she’d been wrong. She’d given the photos to Tracey, not Celeste. What neither she nor Celeste yet knew was that they were already in evidence at the Sheriff’s Department. Celeste, Light thought, what have you done?
The phone rang at Keith Hampton’s office that week as well, and in weeks to come. Celeste wanted to talk with him about Tracey’s case.
“I can’t talk to you about that,” he said. “Tracey’s my client.”
As many times as he refused, Celeste continued to call.
That afternoon at the hotel, Celeste pulled Kristina to the side. “Don’t tell anybody, but I talked to Tracey,” she said. “They’ve arrested her for Steve’s shooting.” She then repeated what Keith Hampton had advised Tracey in their meeting that day, that he would fight to keep the gun out of evidence by claiming the search was unconstitutional.
The knowledge that her mother had been talking to Tracey frightened Kristina. “You promised you wouldn’t talk to Tracey,” she said.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Celeste told her. “I won’t do it again.”
Days later Jennifer looked at the caller