She Wanted It All - Kathryn Casey [86]
“But you won’t be caught. You won’t even be a suspect,” Celeste said. “I’ve read so many books on things like this, watched so many movies, I know what I’m doing. Wait and see.”
So that night, Tracey sat alone, drinking beer, and trying not to think about what lay ahead of them both the following day.
Friday morning, October 1, two days before Steve and Celeste were scheduled to embark on their trip to Europe, Tracey left for work at BookPeople, just like every other morning. Kristina drove to her mail-room job and Jennifer to work at Anita’s office. Throughout the morning, Celeste called Tracey at the store, often unable to reach her. She dialed and then redialed. Sometime in the early afternoon Tracey answered.
“He’s leaving,” Celeste whispered. “Come over now.”
When Tracey drove up to the Toro Canyon house, she parked in the circular driveway in the front. Celeste was waiting for her.
“Okay, now tonight, you park right here,” she said, pointing to a bend sheltered by trees. “Then walk around the house and come in through the bedroom.”
Celeste led Tracey past the grand leaded-glass doors on the front of the house to a path that curved around the left side. She opened a gate and they entered a small patio. “He’ll be in there,” she said.
She slid back the door and brought Tracey into the bedroom. “Now wear all black, your black sweater, black jeans, tennis shoes, and a cap, so no one will see you. And don’t drink. You don’t want to make any mistakes.”
As Celeste had it planned, Tracey would enter under cover of darkness, stand at the foot of the bed, point the gun at Steve, who would be sleeping, and pull the trigger.
“The shotgun will drop a shell,” said Tracey.
“Look for it. If you don’t find it, just leave. I’ll pick it up,” Celeste told her.
“What about the noise and the kids?”
“I’ve already taken care of that.” Although she’d told Kristina to stay home, Celeste assured Tracey that she would be at Justin’s house that night. Perhaps Celeste wanted Kristina as a witness to talk to the police when questioning began. After all, of the twins, Kristina not only slept soundly, but was the one Celeste could count on to do as she was told. She told Tracey that the other teens would be at the lake house, as they’d planned, and that she’d take the dogs, her cocker Nikki and Steve’s Meagan, into Kristina’s bedroom with her.
Celeste then gave Tracey vinyl gloves and a sheet of plastic to cover the seat of her car. After the shooting, Tracey was to drive to a convenience store on South First Street, to discard them in a Dumpster. “I’ve checked it out, and the Dumpster isn’t visible from the store,” she said. “You ought to be able to throw them away without the clerk seeing.”
Tracey was then to return home, wash her clothing, clean her gun and put it away.
“By tomorrow morning, it’ll all be over,” Celeste said.
“If all goes well.”
“It will,” Celeste said. “Then we’ll be together, you and me, without any worries.”
“I hope so,” Tracey said.
“I’ll call you tonight to let you know for sure he’s in bed, that he hasn’t passed out in the closet,” she said. “He does that sometimes.”
Then Celeste had one more request. “When you shoot Steve, shoot him in the stomach,” she said.
Tracey was alarmed. “If I shoot him in the stomach, he’ll linger.”
“I don’t want blood all over the wall. I don’t want to redecorate.” Anxiety churned inside Tracey as Celeste said, “I’ve read about this in books. He’ll bleed to death.”
Steve came home later that afternoon after picking up the finalized itinerary for the trip and $1,000 in cash to leave with the twins for incidentals while they were gone. When Christopher arrived from San Angelo, they sat and talked. Steve