Divine Trilogy

by Cheryl Kaye Tardif

  "We're PSIs. Credit goes to everyone on this team, not just me. Now, go write your reports."

  She watched as he and Natassia drove off with a city detective.

  She climbed into the passenger seat of the SUV. "Come on, Brandon. We have one stop to make. After that, we've got a date with the Phantom and some champagne."

  He gave her a mocking salute. "Yes, ma'am."

  Sitting on the sofa in Jasi's living room, Brandon raised his champagne glass. "To an evening of mystery…without serial killers or corpses."

  "Amen to that." She clinked her glass against his. "Cheers to two days of downtime and a night out like a real couple."

  His pale blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "We've still got about two hours until the show starts."

  She arched a brow. "Any ideas on how we can fill the time?"

  "A few. One involves a long, hot…" he grinned, "shower."

  "That works for me. And we can discuss that…uh, thing I mentioned a few days ago."

  He frowned. "What—oh, right. The living in sin idea."

  She set her glass down and leaned in for a kiss. "If this is sin, I'll go to confession later." Her lips met his.

  On the coffee table, her data-com rang.

  "Ignore it," Brandon murmured against her mouth. His tongue traced her lips then swept inside, searching.

  The ringing persisted.

  "You changed the ring tone," he said.

  "I thought the buzz was more irritating."

  Ring-ring! Ring-ring!

  She scowled. "I guess I was wrong."

  The 'com went silent, the call directed to voicemail.

  "There," she said. "Now where were we?"

  "Getting ready for our shower. You have too many clothes on."

  His tanned fingers moved to the button on her blouse. Bit by bit, he exposed more skin, leaving a trail of kisses from her neck down to the top of her breasts.

  She moaned. Lifting his face, she traced the zigzag of the scar that crossed his right brow. She kissed it.

  Her data-com rang again, but they both ignored it.

  Brandon peeled the blouse away, unhooked her bra and flung it behind him. With her breasts free, he caressed them, teasing her nipples until they were hard.

  Jasi grabbed the sides of his shirt. "Take this off." Her fingers couldn't move fast enough. When his chest was bared, she reached for the snap of his jeans.

  They rose as one—mouths and limbs entwined.

  Somehow they made it to the bathroom, where they quickly shed the last of their clothing. Naked, their bodies collided, their passion primal and urgent. It had been too long.

  She reached for him.

  "Jasi," Brandon said with a grimace.

  "Am I hurting you?"

  "No. I wish that were all it was. Your 'com is ringing again."

  "I'm off duty. It's probably Natassia wanting to know if you've managed to worm your way out of going tonight. She'll figure out we're otherwise occupied."

  The 'com began another round of ringing.

  He playfully nipped at her bottom lip. "Whoever it is, sounds like they're going to keep calling until you pick up."

  She groaned now. "Fine. I'll make it quick, especially if it's a telemarketer. Then we can get back to discussing your living arrangements."

  She wrapped her robe around her and headed for the living room, thinking about her offer to Brandon. A few days ago, before they'd been called in on the gang case, she'd asked him to move in. It made sense. To her, at least. Her apartment was more secure and much larger, one of the perks of being in the CFBI. And it was closer to Divine Ops, making it an easier commute to work for both of them now that Brandon was a permanent addition to her PSI team.

  But he seemed hesitant about the idea. She wasn't sure why. He practically lived there already anyway. What was the big deal? They always used her place for overnights—which had turned into most nights.

  Maybe he doesn't want to commit.

  She fumbled for her data-com and listened to her messages. There were three frantic messages, all from the same person. Cameron Prescott. Cameron was a television reporter for CTBC News, and she had a nasty habit of getting involved in some tight situations.

  Jasi called her right away.

  "I really need your help!" Cameron's voice was shaky, frightened. "My friend Sheral Downham is missing. She's a reporter for The Vancouver Sun, covers the Lifestyle section. She's involved in something…dangerous." She lowered her voice. "I can't talk about it on the phone."

  "Where are you?"

  "Parked across the street from your apartment building."

  Brandon entered the room, dressed in the ratty white robe he'd brought over after their first overnight. As soon as he saw her serious expression, the sexy grin was wiped from his face. "Ah, damn…"

  She gave him an apologetic look. "Come on up, Cameron. Brandon is here too."

  2

  When Cameron entered Jasi's loft apartment, she gave Brandon a brief nod and then sank into the sofa as though she hoped it would swallow her whole. Her face was pale, her blonde hair a tangled mess and the shadows under her eyes suggested she hadn't slept in days.

  "Start from the beginning," Jasi said, handing her a glass of water. "And tell us everything."

  Twisting the straps of her handbag, Cameron let out a slow breath. "Okay, I need you both to understand that I tried talking Sheral out of this. I knew it would be too dangerous, and she had no backup except me. But she told me she had to do it." She stared down at her purse and bit her lip.

  Jasi sat down beside her. "Do what?"

  "Go undercover."

  "Where?"

  "Sanctuary."

  That one word, though spoken as a whisper, made Jasi shiver. Sanctuary was rumored to be a safe harbor for rapists and pedophiles. A cult for the damned, created by the damned.

  "Sheral went in without any backup," Cameron said, her voice breaking.

  "Shit."

  Cameron sighed. "Yeah."

  Brandon sat in the chair across from them. "Since I'm not originally from here, what's Sanctuary?"

  "A cult," Jasi said. "It's located on an acreage just outside Mission, about an hour's drive from here."

  "Religion based?"

  "If you count Father Jeremiah's beliefs as religion."

  "I think I've heard his name before."

  "Father Jeremiah has been in the news before," Cameron said. "Most recently he was advocating rehabilitation for addicts, no matter their predilections."

  "His real name is Giles Christiansen," Jasi added.

  "Interesting last name for a religious zealot," Brandon said.

  "I know. It's ironic. Christiansen has been suspected of having his hand in a number of criminal activities, but no one's found any concrete evidence against him."

  "That's why Sheral went in," Cameron said. "Said she wanted to sink her teeth into a story that would give her a top priority byline, maybe even front page. Journalism is a tough industry, and if you don't get ahead of everyone else, you end up on page sixty—or worse."

  "When did your friend infiltrate the cult?" Brandon asked.

  Cameron let out a soft sob. "Twelve days ago."

  "I know this is difficult," Jasi said, reaching for her hand, "but the more we know, the more we can help."

  "Thank you."

  Jasi took out her 'com. "Voice record on. I hope you don't mind, but we need to be thorough and do this right."

  "We can't go public with this." Cameron stood up and paced the room. "None of what I'm telling you can be made public. Not yet. If Christiansen gets wind that she's there undercover, who knows what he'll do to her. Maybe her data-com died and that's why she hasn't contacted me."

  "I don't think you really believe that. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here."

  "I just don't want to do anything to make it worse for her."

  "You won't. I'll get Matthew Divine to agree to a discreet investigation."

  "How will you do th
at?"

  "He owes me a favor. Don't worry. We'll find out where your friend is." If she's still alive.

  She didn't reveal her thoughts, but one look at Brandon told her he was thinking the same thing. Chances were, so was Cameron.

  "Why don't you sit back down and tell us what the plan was. Start from the beginning."

  Cameron sat, her shoulders sagging as though she had the weight of the world on them. "Sheral's plan was to get inside Sanctuary, get to know some of the people there, gain their trust and come back with dirt on Christiansen."

  "I take it she didn't use her real name?"

  "No. Too many people read her column, Jasi. That would've been suicide."

  "What name did she use?"

  "Nancy Davison. It's her mother's first name and her sister's last name."

  "What exactly was she expecting to find?"

  "People." Cameron swallowed hard. "Sheral had been investigating a number of missing persons cases. Family members had called her at the paper, begging her to look into it. Over time, she noticed that many of the cases had a common connection."

  "Let me guess. Sanctuary."

  "At least a dozen people have gone missing after visiting Sanctuary. Sheral thought they might be imprisoned somewhere on the property. Or worse."

  "When she reported in to you," Brandon said, "did she give you any idea if she'd found anything to substantiate this idea?"

  "No, but she'd done her homework before going there. Whispers on the street suggested there was something more to these disappearances and that Christiansen was involved. It's like everyone knows it's true, but no one can prove it."

  "Who did she report to and how did she communicate?" Jasi asked.

  "Only me. She had a mini spy-com, one of those new models with the camera. She called me every other day at 1:00 PM like clockwork."

  "Was this her regular 'com?"

  "A burner. She didn't want it traced back to her if they found it." Cameron recited the phone number. "She managed to sneak the 'com in even though they're forbidden at Sanctuary. No phones, no computers, no TVs or radios."

  "Christiansen doesn't want his sheep to have contact with the outside world."

  "Exactly. Sheral strapped the spy-com to her thigh before they picked her up. I have no idea how she kept it concealed in the complex though. I never thought to ask her." Fear flickered across her face. "I've tried calling her a half dozen times, but there's no answer."

  "When was the last time you heard from your friend?" Brandon asked.

  "Five days ago."

  "Perhaps something happened to her 'com," Jasi said. "Maybe she lost it."

  "Or someone found it," Brandon added.

  Cameron flinched. "That's what I'm afraid of. She told me they have strict rules at Sanctuary, and anyone who disobeys is punished."

  "How?"

  "Sheral didn't know exactly, and she was afraid to ask or draw attention to herself. But she did say there was a commotion a few days after she arrived. A woman named Jennifer Phillips—Jenny—bunked in Sheral's cabin. Apparently she broke one of Sanctuary's commandments, and that was the last anyone had seen of her. Father Jeremiah said she'd be in isolation for a few days, and if she didn't learn her lesson, she'd be exiled."

  "Did you see Sheral the day they picked her up?" Brandon asked.

  "No. I only know she was posing as a hooker. She'd been hanging around downtown, waiting for them to notice her. You know, in the red light district. Sanctuary has a white-panel van they use to pick up recruits. People call it 'the pedo-van.' I'm not sure who drives it."

  "Christiansen, maybe?"

  "No. A younger guy. I saw him once when Sheral was doing her research and I camped out in her car with her. When the van stopped to pick up a young girl, we saw a guy in a navy-blue suit get out."

  "Describe him," Jasi said.

  "Good-looking guy, maybe in his thirties. Shoulder-length, dirty-blond hair and a moustache and goatee. He kind of reminded me of Brad Pitt. When Sheral called me the first day, she said, 'You'll never guess. Pitt picked me up.' As if it were a great thing."

  "But she didn't mention the guy's real name?"

  "No. Anyway, Christiansen renames all of his flock when they're reborn."

  Brandon lifted a brow. "Reborn?"

  "Not the typical Christian rebirth as in accepting Jesus, blah, blah. Sanctuary has their own process. Members have to pass a trial period of fourteen days. 'To cleanse them of their sins and shed them of their former lives,' according to Father Jeremiah. Sheral was supposed to have her 'rebirth day' in three days. At that time, she'd be introduced to everyone at Sanctuary, and she'd be given a new name for her new life." Cameron's words dripped bitterness.

  Jasi touched her arm. "We'll find her. I promise."

  "Thank you. I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't go to the police because I don't want this to get back to Sanctuary."

  "What exactly did Sheral tell you when she called you?" Brandon asked. "Did she uncover anything that would put her in danger?"

  "She said she was housed in a cabin with two other girls who had been picked up the week before. One was Jenny, the woman I already told you about. She's an addict. The other was a fourteen-year-old runaway named Katie. Every day they're given chores to do, and at meal times they have to sit together, ostracized from the other members. They're told not to talk to anyone except Father Jeremiah."

  "Part of their trial," Jasi said. "To see if they can follow orders."

  "The more docile they were, the more he'd ease up on the chores and invite them to their group rituals."

  "Sounds like brainwashing to me," Brandon said. "A bunch of Kool-Aid drinkers."

  "You can't really blame them," Cameron said. "Most of the people who end up at Sanctuary are outcasts in one way or another, separated from their family, living on the streets, addicted to drugs, alcohol or other things. Sanctuary poses as a safe haven for anyone who wants to change their life."

  "What about Sheral?"

  "What do you mean?"

  Brandon's expression was doubtful. "Maybe she drank the Kool-Aid too."

  "Sheral is happy with her life. She'd never willingly give up everything she has, and all that she's worked for, to live in a reclusive cult."

  "Cults can be pretty persuasive," Jasi said. "Especially with a charismatic leader like Christiansen."

  "She went in for a story, one that could make her career. She's a bulldog that way. She'd never allow anyone to brainwash her." Cameron stood. "Find her, Jasi. Please."

  "We'll do what we can."

  "Thank you."

  "One more thing," Jasi said.

  "Yeah?"

  "Do you have a photograph of Sheral?"

  Cameron rummaged around in her purse. "Here. This was taken last month at Vortex." She looked over at Brandon. "It's a popular nightclub in North Van."

  Jasi studied the photo. Sheral Downham was a beautiful young woman. Tall and slender, she had the presence of a consummate and confident professional, especially when dressed in a tailored gray skirt and jacket that accentuated her curves. Rich brunette hair draped down her neck to below her shoulder blades. In one hand she held a martini glass that contained a blue liquid that glowed, and around her wrist was an amethyst-studded bracelet in either silver or white gold.

  "Sheral couldn't let this go," Cameron said, her chin quivering. "She said she had to know for sure what was going on at Sanctuary."

  Jasi stared at the photo. Let's hope you didn't find yourself a victim of curiosity. "We'll check out Sanctuary tomorrow morning, Cameron. We'll do it discreetly, in case Sheral is still there."

  Cameron looked her in the eye. "I didn't tell you quite everything."

  "Go on."

  "About an hour ago, the RCMP was called out to Sanctuary to investigate a suspicious death. They found human bones inside an incinerator. One of my contacts in Mission called me right away because she owes me a few favors. She said the bones are from a female, about twenty-five
to twenty-eight years old." Cameron took a deep breath. "I think it's Sheral."

  As soon as Cameron left the loft, Jasi and Brandon headed to Divine Ops, a top-secret warehouse that accommodated the PSI division. Situated in Vancouver's West End, Divine Ops didn't look like much from the outside. Worn signage touted it as a condemned fish-packing plant, but inside was a different story.

  After handing their weapons to the tech on duty, they keyed in their security access codes, passed through Voice Recognition and the Retinal Scanner, and a full body scanner that examined the tracking devices implanted in their navels. They followed a narrow corridor to Ops One, the primary operations station, and Jasi submitted to the routine paranormal electroencephalograph scan, while Brandon's body stats were scanned and recorded. Then they took the elevator down to the PSI floor.

  "Every time I come here I feel like I've been stripped naked and made to walk a runway," Brandon whispered in her ear.

  With a chuckle, she pushed him away. "You'll get used to this eventually. As Matthew keeps telling us, these precautions are designed to keep us safe."

  When they reached the Command Office, Matthew Divine greeted them with a grim smile, his gray hair slicked back in his customary ponytail. "I wasn't expecting to send you out again so soon, Jasmine. You both deserve some downtime."

  "The Cobras' case is now closed," she said, sitting down at the conference table. "We barely got our hands dirty with that one. Besides, I promised Cameron we'd help her. After all, she's helped us in the past."

  Matthew's face shuffled through a range of emotions. "The CFBI has been after Giles Christiansen for years, but the man always manages to slip through our hands."

  "Did you get our warrants?"

  He handed her a manila folder. "A search warrant for the property and structures within the property of Sanctuary, warrants for individual evidence collection and a faux arrest warrant for prostitute Nancy Davison. I had to do a bit of convincing to get the paperwork in Sheral Downham's fake name." He slipped off his ancient tortoise-shell glasses and wiped them on his shirt.

  "I appreciate it, sir. Thank you."

  "If this woman is at Sanctuary, and if she hasn't been found out, she's putting herself in a lot of danger. I want you to convince her to leave with you."