She Wanted It All - Kathryn Casey [88]
“I’ll be so close to her bedroom, Kristina will hear me,” Tracey said.
“Don’t worry about Kristina,” Celeste said. “I’ll take care of her.”
“I don’t know the house, and I’ve never come that way,” Tracey argued. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“It is,” Celeste said. Then she went on to say that she’d have the doors unlocked and the burglar alarm off. She’d also make sure the back gate was open.
Tracey wasn’t sure.
“I’ve also set up a motive for the shooting,” Celeste said, explaining that she’d staged a robbery by rifling through the master bath. She’d taken Steve’s wallet, ring, and money clip. “I kept the cash out of his money clip but threw the rest in the lake.”
Tracey felt physically ill.
“You’re the only one I can count on,” Celeste said. “If you don’t kill him, I’ll die.” Tracey nodded.
“Steve’s passed out in the bed,” she said, putting her arms around Tracey’s shoulders and kissing her. “Just remember, you’re saving my life.”
At the Toro Canyon house, Kristina walked Justin to the front door. It was just after midnight, and Celeste wasn’t home. When he arrived at his house, he called. It was twelve-fifteen and Celeste still wasn’t there. Kristina had called her cell phone, but Celeste hadn’t answered.
“I’m home,” Justin said.
“Okay,” Kristina answered. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Good night.”
Sometime after two, Tracey was ready. She’d loaded her shotgun and dressed in black. She took the sheet of plastic Celeste had given her, covered the car’s front seat, then put on the rubber gloves. In her year-old, maroon Pathfinder, she drove toward the Toro Canyon house, trying not to think about why. When she reached the back entrance, the gate was open. She turned off the headlights, pulled forward, put her arm over the seat, and backed up. At first all went well as the car climbed the hill, but then she hit a loose patch of gravel and her wheels spun. She gunned it, praying the noise wouldn’t wake Kristina. Finally, the wheels caught traction and the car pulled backward up the hill. At the top, she stopped, put the car in park and turned off the engine.
Picking her way through the trees in the darkness, she walked along the back of the house to the patio. The house was dark, and the windows looked like blank eyes staring back at her in the night. She paused, thinking about what she was there to do, and she felt ill again. For a moment she flattened her body against the wall and listened. Around her insects buzzed in the woods and a slight breeze ruffled the leaves. The house was quiet. I can’t do this, she thought. For minutes she stood statue still, thinking, trying to find another way to save Celeste.
No, she thought. This is the only answer. He’ll never let her go. I have to do it. I promised. Stop thinking about it. Just do it.
Holding the shotgun in shaking hands, she felt her way around the house, saw the pool shimmering in the moonlight, then the door. As Celeste had promised, it was unlocked and no alarm sounded.
To save Celeste’s life, she thought as she let herself in.
Up three steps to her right and she was into the master bedroom wing. Her pulse quickened as she entered the bedroom itself. There, in the bed, she saw Steve’s generous silhouette in the darkened room. She stopped where Celeste had instructed, five feet from the foot of the bed. Without pausing, without allowing herself to think, Tracey raised her shotgun and took aim. She squeezed the trigger, and a single shot echoed through the house. It reverberated through her so that she felt certain she’d awoken the neighborhood.
God, Kristina must have heard that, Tracey thought.
“Oomph,” Steve said as the pellets struck his abdomen.
Quickly, Tracey glanced around the floor, looking for the shell, but then Steve moved. His arm wound around his body and held his abdomen, at the site of the gunshot wound. Startling Tracey, he sat up, searching the nightstand