"Anything unusual?" Jasi asked her.
"Not really. Except cause of death is listed as asphyxia, not smoke inhalation. He probably struggled and tried to escape. The slip knot that was used would have tightened the noose around his neck when he moved his legs."
Jasi scooted to the edge of the bed. "So he literally strangled himself."
"Or his own son did," Natassia said candidly.
"But in my vision Washburn said he didn't remember his killer. How does that fit with Baker?"
"He could have been speaking figuratively. Maybe Baker was acting in such a rage that his father couldn't see the son he was familiar with."
Jasi glanced at Ben. "What about Beranski?"
Ben shook his head. "We have to cut him loose. One of the kids at the concession stand called in. Jason Beranski ordered popcorn and pop halfway through the movie. The guy might have had motive but he wouldn't have had time to drive to the lake, strangle the doctor and burn down the cabin."
At that moment, Matthew Divine's face appeared on the vid-wall.
"Voice on," Natassia ordered.
"The warrant for the security tapes is a go," Divine informed them. "The hotel manager is waiting for you. We also had enough to get a search warrant for Premier Baker's hotel room and his house in Vancouver. Who's taking the security disks, Agent McLellan?"
"Ben is," Jasi answered.
"Benjamin, keep in mind that the search needs to be handled delicately. If the Premier is innocent, we don't want this to come back on us. Keep it private, no press."
"Natassia and I are heading to Victoria tomorrow morning," Jasi said after telling Divine about Baker's connection to Charlotte Foreman.
"Sounds good, Agent McLellan. Just remember what I told you about keeping it quiet."
Natassia was about to end communication when Divine hesitated. "Oh, I almost forgot. We're working closely with Arson Investigations on this. They're sending someone over as a liaison. Take him to Victoria with you. And, for God's sake, don't let him out of your sight. I don't want some idiot from AI getting in the way."
Natassia caught Jasi's indignant, irritated expression. Babysitting some AI suit wasn't on Jasi's list of favorite things to do.
Divine also noticed Jasi's grim expression.
"Just put up with him for a couple of days. He should be at your hotel lobby any minute."
"Fine," Jasi moaned. "Whatever you want, sir. I'll work with the devil himself if it'll solve this case."
Natassia flinched at her partner's words, wondering if Jasi had just tempted Fate.
The devil himself…
12
The devil sat at the end of the gloomy bar.
The hotel manager had told Jasi that her guest was enjoying a rum and coke. That pissed her off. Perhaps he'd drink himself under the table and she could leave him behind. Whoever he was, he had his back to her so she couldn't see his sharpened horns.
But she was positive they were there―somewhere.
She hovered behind him, studying the man.
He wore a black leather jacket and tight black jeans. He filled out both just fine―and that irked her too. The man's face was hidden in the shadows yet she thought his voice sounded vaguely familiar when he ordered another drink.
The bartender noticed her but she waved him away.
"Excuse me," she growled, tapping the devil-man on the shoulder.
"Agent Jasi McLellan," the man said before turning to face her. "It's great to see you again."
Brandon Walsh's icy eyes made her blood freeze.
Staring at Walsh in disbelief, a million thoughts coursed through Jasi's mind. Not one of them was good. There was no way on earth that this man was going to be part of her team.
Walsh grinned. "What? Aren't you happy to see me?"
"Ecstatic," she spat acidly.
"Yeah, I was pretty ecstatic too, to find out I was assigned to be your partner."
"Partner?" she sputtered. "We have jurisdiction over this investigation, Walsh. You're here as a liaison…nothing more. Got it?"
"Sure thing―partner."
"You can shove the partner thing up your―"
"Okay, relax," he said, holding up one hand. "I come in peace."
"Chief Walsh―"
"The name is Brandon. We're going to be working closely so I think first names are in order…Jasmine. Or do you prefer Jasi?"
She glared at him, her eyes shooting daggers. "I prefer Agent McLellan. But if you insist on first names, then call me Jasmine. Only my friends call me Jasi."
Brandon Walsh hesitated. It was obvious he wanted to respond to her challenge.
Jasi pasted a false smile on her face.
"Walsh, let's get a few things straight. I don't like working with someone who doubts my abilities, or my gift. And I don't like working with a redneck who spends his time chasing skirts."
The man's eyes sauntered lazily down her body. "You aren't wearing a skirt, Jasi."
She gritted her teeth in frustration. Not only was he undressing her with his hot stare, he was using her nickname. Walsh was striking out―big time. Didn't he take anything seriously? How the hell could she work with him?
Jumping off the barstool, Walsh took a step closer.
"Jasi, regardless of what you think about me, I'm very good," he mocked. "At everything I do."
"All I care about is this case," she said coldly. "You let us handle it. You're an observer. Got it?"
"We'll see."
Walsh grabbed her arm and steered her toward a table in the far corner of the room. His grip was gentle but persistent.
"Okay, fill me in on what the CFBI has so far." A short pause preceded a soft, "Please."
It took Jasi fifteen minutes to get Brandon up to speed. She told him about Baker's connection to Charlotte Foreman―that the Premier had once been in the foster care system. Then she told him that Allan Baker was their prime suspect.
"AI checked out the diesel used in Washburn's murder," he offered. "The fire in Victoria used regular gasoline. We're not sure why he switched, but Super Clean diesel isn't cheap."
"Can you trace it?"
Brandon shook his head. "There are too many gas stations in the area that carry diesel. Whoever bought it probably paid cash. Credit cards would be too easy to trace."
"Did you run records and do a crosscheck on it anyway?"
He took a sip of his drink. "There were no purchases of diesel on Premier Baker's credit card."
Jasi released a long, tired breath.
There was still no direct link between Baker and the murder of his father. Maybe they should take a closer look at Martin Gibney, she mused. He and Dr. Washburn had worked together before. But why would Gibney go after Norman Washburn?
"Have you had supper yet?" Brandon asked, disturbing her thoughts.
Jasi practically salivated at the mention of food. "No."
"Come on, then. Let's go grab a bite."
He slapped down a twenty and rose from the table.
Noticing her hesitation, he bribed, "A girl's gotta eat. And we can talk corpses and death if you want."
"Fine," she said, exiting the bar with Walsh in tow. "But I need to take a shower first. I'll meet you in the restaurant in thirty minutes."
When Jasi stepped inside the lobby elevator, he winked at her. "See ya in half an hour then, Jasi."
She pursed her lips, biting back a nasty response.
When the doors closed, she heaved a sigh of defeat. Brandon Walsh grated on her nerves. The man was incorrigible. He provoked her like a small child poking a coiled snake with a stick.
But she was drawn to him―no mistaking that.
A minute later the elevator jerked to a halt. She stepped out into the hallway where warm, muggy air greeted her.
Jasi sensed that another storm was on its way.
Hurricane Walsh!
When she reached her room, Natassia and Ben were sitting at the table, sheets of paper spread out before them. Their head
s shifted toward her in one fluid motion at hearing the door slam.
"Damn it all to hell!" Jasi moaned.
She stood with her hands on her hips while her eyes flashed dangerously. "You'll never guess who AI sent?"
"Who?" Ben asked warily.
"AI Chief Brandon Walsh," she replied sourly.
"I knew the man was up to something," Ben grunted. "He probably requested this assignment."
She gawked at him, shocked…speechless.
Ben shrugged. "I sensed he wasn't happy handing over control of this case to us. I knew he was up to something when I saw him talking to one of the police officers at the crime scene."
Jasi swore softly, then grabbed some clean clothes and stumbled toward the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower." She glanced back, a hopeful expression on her face. "I'm meeting Walsh downstairs for dinner. You two hungry?"
Natassia grimaced guiltily. "We already ate."
"Great then. Feed me to the wolves!"
Jasi closed the bathroom door and sneered at her reflection. "What the hell are you doing?"
When the other Jasi didn't reply, she growled and headed for the shower.
Apprehensive about meeting Walsh for dinner, Jasi dried her hair, deliberately prolonging the task. She was irritated that she had allowed Brandon Walsh to convince her to have dinner with him. When she finally stepped out of the bathroom, Jasi was ready to meet the devil.
Natassia was sitting on the bed, alone, buried in papers.
"Where's Ben?"
Natassia sighed, disappointed. "He's back in his room."
"Are those Baker's financial records?"
"Yup. Nothing so far."
"You sure you don't want to join us for dinner?"
"Naw, you go. It's not every night you get to go on a date with a handsome man."
"It's not a date!" Jasi snapped. "It's strictly business."
Natassia chuckled softly. "Then why the makeup?"
Jasi's hand paused in midair, a tube of lipstick hovering near her mouth. Staring at her reflection, she made a face, then deliberately tossed the lipstick into her purse.
Ignoring Natassia, she stomped toward the door.
"Go get 'im, Jasi!" her friend snickered.
Jasi shivered with anticipation.
Yeah, but what do I do with him once I've got him?
13
The restaurant on the lower floor of the Prestige Inn had two small private dining rooms off to one side. Brandon waited inside one of them. Checking his watch for the third time in five minutes, he frowned.
An hour had gone by since he had seen Jasi.
Agent McLellan was late.
When she finally arrived, he took in her freshly washed hair and soft, glowing skin. Her face was lightly made up―although Jasmine McLellan didn't need artificial enhancements to make her beautiful. She wore a royal blue blouse.
And she had changed into another pair of slacks, he realized with disappointment.
"Hungry?" he asked her, taking in the dark shadows around her eyes.
"Starved," she admitted.
They chose a table close to the door.
"I thought it would be more appropriate to be in here if we're going to be discussing the case," he said when she examined the room.
After the waiter had taken their order, Brandon decided to seize control of the conversation.
"What's on the agenda for tomorrow?"
Jasi told him.
"Okay, I'll stick with you and Natassia," he suggested. "It'll be my first look at the Victoria fire too."
Jasi's eyes widened in surprise. "Weren't you in on that investigation?"
He shook his head. "The locals handled that one."
Toying nervously with a sharp steak knife, Jasi asked, "What's your take on all this?"
"I think it's possible Baker did it. He had motive enough, that's for sure."
Plus he's an asshole, Brandon thought.
He stared warily at the knife in Jasi's hand. When his eyes drifted back to hers, she grinned.
A discreet knock on the door announced the waiter's arrival. He placed their salads on the table. "Would you care for some wine?"
"Please," Brandon replied. "Two glasses of your best white."
"None for me, Walsh!" Jasi said sharply. "I don't drink on the job."
He reached across the table and plucked the knife from her hand. "You're not on the job right now."
When the waiter disappeared, Brandon raised his glass in the air and aimed an insolent smile in Jasi's direction.
"To our partnership."
He knew his words would annoy her, and he waited for her to explode. But then, without a word, she clanged her glass against his.
He smiled, enjoying the challenge in her eyes. "So what brings a nice girl like you to a crime scene like this?"
Jasi scowled. "Bad line, Walsh."
"Well?"
Her eyes latched onto his. "My father was a promoter of government agencies."
Brandon was surprised. "He was CFBI too?"
"No, Armed Forces. He's retired now."
Jasi told him about her parents. About her mother being killed in a home invasion. She didn't go into all the details but he could tell there was much more to the story than she let on.
"Were you close to your mother?"
Jasi nodded silently, reaching for her wineglass.
"My parents live in Europe now," he said, changing the topic. "I don't see them often. My sister lives back east…Ontario."
"Is she younger or older?"
"Younger. She's only seventeen."
"Ah," Jasi grinned. "An 'Oops!'"
"Yeah, an afterthought for my parents. Sierra's great."
He traced a pattern into the condensation on the wineglass. Then he watched her for a moment.
The wine was starting to kick in.
"So you get to play big brother," she said with a faint tinge of disdain in her voice.
He wasn't sure what Jasi meant by that comment.
"What about you?" he asked.
There was something about Jasmine McLellan that intrigued him.
Jasi stared at her salad. "I have a brother."
"Ever married?"
"Who? Me or my brother?" she asked mockingly.
He did a drum roll on the table and laughed.
She gave him a sheepish grin. "No, I've never been married. What about you?"
"Once," he shrugged. "A long time ago."
"What happened?"
Brandon smiled―a slow, knowing smile. Agent Jasmine McLellan was interested in him.
"We were both young, perhaps a bit foolish," he confessed. "In the end, Karmen couldn't handle being a firefighter's wife. It was an amicable divorce."
Brandon rarely thought about his ex-wife. Tonight, he only wanted to think about the intriguing but stubborn woman sitting across from him.
"Do you still see her?"
His lips paused at the edge of his wineglass, and he grinned wickedly. "Why? Would it bother you if I did?"
"Not likely, Walsh," she huffed. "I just want to know what baggage you're bringing to the case."
Grinning, he raised one brow. "See any baggage here?"
Brandon stretched back in his chair, flexed his arms and watched her eyes graze over him. When Jasi didn't say anything, he leaned forward, resting one hand on hers.
"Why don't you like me?" he asked in a low whisper.
"You don't believe in what I do."
She yanked her hand away from his and placed it in her lap.
"I really don't know what you can do."
Jasi's response was quiet, controlled. "Listen, Brandon. We're working on a case together and I have to know if I can count on you―if I can trust you."
Her eyes were serious pools of emerald lights, and he was drawn into their depths.
"You can trust me," he promised.
Sipping her wine slowly, she watched him, unsmiling.
"I need you to trust me too. Or els
e one of us could get hurt."
Brandon knew that she meant physically hurt. It was vital that they worked together as a team. They were, after all, hunting a serial killer, a person who had murdered three people―one, an innocent child.
"Okay, I get it," he said. "Tell me about your…uh, gift."
Jasi explained how the scent of fire would trigger something in her cerebral cortex, sending a flash of psychic energy to her brain. The rest was a bit of a mystery.
"Even to me," she added.
"Sounds complicated."
"I have visions," Jasi shrugged lightly. "It's that simple."
Part of Brandon's brain tried to rebel against the plausibility of her visions. Part of him tried to find a rational explanation. There was none. He had read her file―and those of Roberts and Prushenko. He couldn't argue with the fact that they had each solved a number of cases. Some cases had been dead cold. Other agents had given up on them after months of stagnation.
"How does it work?" he asked, staring into her eyes.
She had beautiful eyes―wounded eyes, he thought.
"When I do a reading I have to be very careful that I take certain precautions," she explained. "First I have to clear my mind and inhale pure oxygen. If it's a large fire with multiple victims I have to wear an oxy-mask."
Brandon recalled the first time he had seen Jasi.
She had been wearing an oxy-mask then. And he had laughed at her.
Feeling guilty, he bit his lip.
"How old were you when you started reading fires?"
"I-I've had visions since I was about six. Every time I'm near a fire, I pick up thoughts and pictures. It's actually very draining." Her eyes connected with his. "Emotionally and physically."
When the door opened suddenly, he cleared his throat, silently warning her that the waiter had returned with their meals. The man cleared their salad plates, placed two steak platters on the table and then left.
"How dangerous is your gift?" Brandon asked between bites. "To you, I mean."
"More controllable than Natassia's," Jasi admitted. "Natassia is a Victim Empath. With her job, she can lose herself in the victim's emotions and fears. Sometimes we have to pull her back. We use a reality line."
"A reality line?"
"We bring her back by holding one of her hands, talking to her. It's a form of hypnosis. We use keywords that mean something to her, to bring her out."
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