Divine Justice

by Cheryl Kaye Tardif

  "How about a drink first?" He gave her a Tom Cruise smile and tossed a towel over one shoulder. "You look like you could use one."

  "I'm on duty." She slid a photo of Porter Sampson across the bar. "Have you seen this man recently?"

  "Almost every night."

  "Really? Does he come here alone?"

  The bartender chuckled. "I never said I saw him here. He's the dude that's always on the news. Politics, right? Minister of something or other."

  Jasi scowled. "So he wasn't in here the past week?"

  "Not on my shift. Lysette takes over after six. She's in the back. I'll go get her." He vanished for a moment, then reappeared with a bleached blonde at his side.

  "Bonjour, mademoiselle," the blond said. "Can I help you?"

  At first glance, Lysette seemed to be in her early thirties, but upon closer inspection, Jasi realized she was probably closer to fifty.

  If that's what facial rejuvenation does for you, I might have to reconsider in twenty years or so.

  "Do you recognize the man in this photo?"

  "No, I never seen him before," Lysette said in a heavy French accent.

  "Thanks anyway."

  Jasi tossed a twenty dollar bill on the counter and eyed the bartender. "Buy a book on Canadian politics."

  In the lobby, she mentally crossed the Belle Fleur Hotel bar off the list. That's it then. No other bars in the area.

  She decided to grab a quick salad and iced tea in the dining room. Seated at a table near a window, she thought about the case while enjoying the mesmerizing view of the Ottawa River, the same river that Monty Winkler had drowned in.

  Does it hold some kind of special meaning?

  Winkler had made some enemies along his climb up the political ladder. Yet no one stood out.

  She was lost in thought, trying to put the pieces of the puzzling case together when someone called her name.

  She looked up. "What are you doing here?"

  Zane Underhill flashed his perfect white teeth. "Jasmine McLellan, are you following me?"

  "Not likely."

  "You couldn't wait for dinner?"

  "I thought you were staying at the Embassy Hotel."

  "I am. I had a meeting with a client near here." His eyes captured hers. "Ottawa sure brings back good memories. Remember?"

  "No," she said.

  She knew exactly what he was referring to. That one hot summer three years ago when Zane had coaxed her into taking a vacation in Ontario. He'd rented a yacht and they cruised around the Thousand Islands. He'd even taught her the basics―starting the twin engines, steering, navigation. She decided she was better at driving a car. A few days later, they had rented a Porsche and toured the Niagara Falls area before making their way to Ottawa for the Canada Day celebrations.

  A sudden image of sweat-soaked bodies writhing in passion amidst tangled sheets and spilled wine came to mind. Sex with Zane was like an intoxicating drug, and she'd responded like an addict, always hungry, always wanting more.

  "What I'd like to know is how you found me," he said with a grin. "I don't recall telling you I was coming here."

  "I'm not here for you," she said bluntly. "I'm following some leads."

  "Ah, I should've known. You're here for some secret CFBI case." He sat in the chair across from her. "Let's have some coffee and you can tell me all about it."

  "You know I can't discuss an investigation with you."

  Zane ran a hand through his hair. "You can trust me, Jasmine. I won't breathe a word to anyone."

  "Sorry, Zane."

  "How about a coffee then? We can catch up."

  She shook her head. "I agreed to dinner. You'll have to wait until later."

  "I see you are still as committed to the CFBI as you've always been. You know, I've helped put away my share of criminals."

  Zane was right about that. He had interviewed numerous serial killers, rapists and con artists. His psychological profiling had resulted in a high rate of convictions.

  "I can't talk about any case I'm investigating, Zane. Not even with you."

  Zane's smile faded. "There was a time when you could tell me anything."

  Not everything, she wanted to argue. She had never told him that she was a psychic in the PSI Division. As far as he knew, she was simply a CFBI agent. And that suited her just fine.

  "I'll see you at dinner then," he said, standing.

  She watched him go. She wanted to stop him, but she knew that doing so would only lead to her emotional destruction.

  I'll deal with him later.

  She rubbed her arm again.

  Why does it ache so much?

  16

  Wednesday, July 4th, 2012

  ~ Vancouver General Hospital, Vancouver, BC

  Natassia stood aside as Jasi's father and brother approached the hospital bed. There was no change in Jasi's condition. She was lost somewhere in a comatose limbo.

  It broke Natassia's heart.

  Come on, Jasi. Wake up.

  "Let's get a bite to eat, Natassia." Ben touched her arm. "You need more than just coffee in you, and Jasi needs to be with her family."

  "You're both as much her family as we are," Jasi's father interrupted gruffly. "You've seen more of my girl than I have in the past year."

  "Pop's right," Brady said. "You're family too."

  Ben patted the younger man on the back. "Thanks, bro."

  "We'll come back in an hour," Natassia said. "We can take turns watching her today."

  She stood up shakily. She'd been at the hospital since 7:00 that morning.

  "Lunch in the cafeteria?" she asked Ben.

  He nodded, then leaned forward and kissed Jasi's cheek.

  "Don't go anywhere, Jazz."

  Natassia gave him a wry look. "Where would she go?"

  There was a pained expression in his eyes. She knew that he was petrified that Jasi wouldn't pull through.

  "She'll be right here when we get back," she insisted.

  Following him out of the room, she stared at the worn carpet during the ride in the elevator and thought about Jasi and Ben. They'd been good friends for almost four years. Just friends, Ben had insisted. Yet, sometimes she wondered if they'd ever been more than friends. Sometimes she had to restrain the green-eyed monster when she saw them together, laughing and so much at ease in each other's company. It was impossible not to be jealous.

  She's interested in someone else. Brandon.

  As Ben steered her toward the cafeteria, she thought back to the previous case. The Gemini Murders, nicknamed by the press because of the Gemini lighters that a vengeful murderer had left at each arson scene, had ended with the arsonist's death. Afterward, Brandon Walsh, the Chief of Arson Investigations, disappeared with his tail between his legs, abandoning Jasi when she needed him most.

  The coward!

  Natassia had known that something was going on between the two of them. If there was one thing she could spot a mile away, it was sexual tension.

  She peeked under her lashes at Ben.

  Like the tension between us.

  "Soup or sandwich?" he asked without looking at her.

  "Both. I'm starved."

  She heaped up a tray with two bowls of clam chowder, two sandwiches, a veggie tray and two bottles of ice tea.

  "I hope that's not all for you," he teased.

  She handed him the tray. "Watch it, mister. I'm hungry enough to eat everything on that tray. Lucky for you, I'm in a sharing mood." She stifled a yawn.

  "You look exhausted. You need a good night's sleep."

  "Is that all I need, Ben?"

  She was thinking of something else, and it wasn't sleep.

  "Yeah, at least ten hours," he said, oblivious.

  "I can think of something even better than sleep."

  She grinned, knowing her not-so-innocent words would push a button.

  "Natassia…" He gave her a warning look.

  "I know, I know. Our relationship is taboo."

&nb
sp; "Only when we're out in public."

  "You know, I don't really understand what the big deal is. No one's going to care if we're together." She set her hands on her hips. "Are you worried about what Jasi will think?"

  She'd already let it slip to their partner that she and Ben had kissed. Jasi didn't need to know that things had progressed beyond kissing. Not yet anyway.

  "Jasi will be happy to see me happy," he said.

  She raised a brow. "You're happy then?"

  "Of course I am." But his expression was anything but happy. "I'm afraid for her, Natassia. I've never seen her look this…"

  "Vulnerable?"

  He nodded and veered off toward an empty table. As soon as they were seated, he removed his gloves and set them beside his plate.

  "My, you're being bold today," she said, grinning.

  She remembered the first time they had made love. It had happened a week ago. He'd driven her back to her apartment in Burnaby and she'd invited him in. They hadn't even made it to the bedroom. Instead, she found herself lying on the oriental carpet in front of the fireplace.

  Ben hadn't even removed his gloves.

  When she had mentioned this, he warned her that his visions were unpredictable, often sparked by touching skin or an object close to a victim. Both of them knew that Natassia carried enough baggage to qualify as a 'victim.'

  "I can't take my gloves off around you," he told her.

  She never pushed the issue. The last thing she wanted was for him to stop doing all the tantalizing things he'd been doing to her body. If truth be told, she rather enjoyed the sensuous feeling of cool leather on her bare skin.

  "What's up?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  She smiled. "I'm just remembering."

  "Remembering what?"

  "The first night you stayed over. In my apartment."

  "I wasn't expecting to stay over, you know."

  "I know." She chuckled. "But I'm glad you did."

  "Me too." He examined his bare hands. "I wish…"

  There was a brief silence.

  "I know," she said in a quiet voice. "I wish you could touch me, skin on skin. Maybe one day."

  Ben picked up a glove. "These are getting thin."

  "We'll be careful then."

  "I used to wear two or three pairs of department store gloves before I signed on with the CFBI," he said. "I was only nineteen and my gift had developed almost over night. If it weren't for Matthew, I'd probably have gone insane."

  "He trained you personally?"

  "He tried," he said dryly. "He had these gloves made."

  "Tell me about Matthew."

  "Not much to tell. I don't know much about his personal life." He took a breath. "All I really know is that he created the PSI Division. Every Prime Minister for the past thirty years has supported its existence, but they'd each deny they knew anything about us if questioned."

  "It's the same in Russia."

  "The public thinks we're regular CFBI agents. Meanwhile, Matthew is constantly seeking out people with psychic abilities―like me and Jasi―and recruiting them if they test positive."

  "And Jasi tested as a Level 1."

  He nodded.

  A depressed calm washed over them and they ate their lunch without a word to each other.

  Finally, she broke the silence. "Jasi has to get better."

  "She will."

  "If they take her arm…"

  "Don't," he snapped. "You can't think like that."

  She couldn't imagine what Jasi would do if she woke up and found that her arm had been amputated. If that happened her career as a CFBI field agent would be over.

  A doctor rushed past them, a serious look on his face.

  She gasped. "Oh God."

  "That's not Dr. Habib," Ben assured her. "She'll be fine, Natassia. Jasi is a fighter."

  "I know. I hate seeing her like that. A week ago we were talking about what we'd do when she was better." She locked eyes with his. "We have cases to solve."

  "And you will."

  "How can you be so sure? You get a psychic vision?"

  Ben slipped on his gloves. "I feel it in my gut. Jasi's got too much to do, too many criminals to catch. And she's got some unfinished business to take care of with Walsh."

  She scowled. "He certainly hightailed it outta here."

  "She told him to go. What else could he do?"

  That much was true. Jasi had ordered Brandon to leave, and he'd done just that.

  Idiot.

  "I don't get why she would push away a perfectly sexy man like Brandon." She gave Ben a rueful look. "He's not as sexy as you, of course. But still…"

  "Maybe we should call him."

  "Uh, I already did," she said, biting her bottom lip.

  Ben seemed taken aback. "Really? Is he coming back?"

  "I don't know. I've left four messages on his voicemail and he hasn't called me back."

  "Walsh's feelings are a bit hurt."

  She scowled at him. "I don't care about his feelings."

  All she cared about was Jasi. Her partner wasn't happy with Walsh gone. Not one bit. And Brandon Walsh should have known that. His absence was making her partner miserable.

  When Ben took her hand, the leather was cool against her skin.

  He squeezed gently. "Have faith, Natassia."

  "I could strangle the guy," she muttered.

  "Don't worry. Walsh will come back. Guys like him always do."

  "But what if he doesn't?"

  Ben shrugged. "If he doesn't, I'll hunt him down and strangle him myself.

  17

  Friday, April 20, 2012

  ~ Ottawa, ON

  Meanwhile, Jasi's coma-induced memories took her back to just after her unexpected run-in with Zane Underhill. She began remembering with perfect clarity.

  Zane's back.

  As she hurried back to the hotel, she tried to quell her concerns about their pending dinner engagement.

  She found Natassia in Ben's room. The first thing she noticed was the excited expression in her new partner's eyes.

  "Got something?"

  Natassia nodded. "I've been comparing Winkler and Sampson's data-com appointment books. Look." She turned the monitor.

  Jasi studied the open files of Monty Winkler and Porter Sampson. They were placed beside one another for easy comparison. The doctor tab had been used on both data-coms.

  Not unusual considering their ages.

  "They both had a lot of doctor's appointments," she noted. "Sampson is seeing two doctors. Dr. Friedman and Dr. Li. Winkler's doctor was Dr. Zuniga."

  "I was distracted by those entries too," Natassia said. "But look at this." She pointed to an entry marked dog groomer. "Every month for the past six months, they've both taken their dogs to a groomer. Maybe the same one."

  Jasi scrolled back through Winkler's schedule. Every month on the first Tuesday at 1:00 p.m., he'd blocked off an hour to take his dog to be groomed. Sampson had a similar appointment booked on the first Wednesday of every month. Also at 1:00 p.m.

  "Different days but the same time," Jasi said.

  "It's too strange to be coincidence," Ben added.

  "I agree."

  "We'll have a chat with Sampson first. He said he only knew Winkler in passing and from reputation." He picked up his data-com.

  "We have you on speaker," he said when Porter Sampson answered.

  "What do you need?"

  "We're going over your data-com entries," Jasi said. "We noticed that you and Monty Winkler both had dog grooming appointments, different days, but we thought maybe you had the same groomer, maybe even met each other there. It would give us a connection."

  "Well, there are two problems with your theory," Sampson said. "First, I've never had a conversation with Monty Winkler, not that I can remember."

  "And what's the second problem?" Ben asked.

  "I don't own a dog, Agent Roberts."

  Natassia broke in. "But you have it listed in your
appointment book on your data-com."

  "You must be mistaken. I have no reason for such an appointment. We can't have a dog. Or a cat, for that matter. Lorraine's allergic."

  Jasi glanced at Natassia. "You sure this was uploaded from his 'com?"

  "I know what I'm doing, Jasi. Especially when it comes to computers. This," she pointed at the left side of the monitor, "is everything from Winkler's data-com, and this is from Sampson's."

  Jasi gave her an apologetic look. "Mr. Sampson, who else knows your data-com password?"

  "No one. Not even my wife."

  "Have you ever left your 'com out in public?" Ben asked. "Maybe on a desk during a meeting?"

  "Never. I keep a lot of sensitive material on it."

  "Have you ever misplaced it, even temporarily?"

  "No. The only time it's not in my pocket or my briefcase is when I charge it at night." He paused. "You don't think someone broke into my house just so they could leave bogus appointments on my data-communicator, do you?"

  Jasi looked at Ben. "He does have a point. Why would someone do this?"

  "There has to be a better explanation," Natassia said. "One that actually makes sense."

  "Okay, Mr. Sampson," Ben said. "Thank you for your assistance."

  "I don't know what help I've been," the man grumbled before disconnecting.

  "So what do you make of this?" Jasi asked Natassia.

  "The entries were made directly on the 'com, on both of them. They weren't transferred or uploaded from another computer. Both men had a few appointments that were uploaded from their office, meetings they had to attend. Probably sent by their secretaries. But not these."

  "So the only explanation is that someone took the 'coms, hacked in and added the appointments," Jasi said.

  Natassia shrugged. "Unless Sampson is lying."

  "I don't think that's it," Ben said. "There was evidence that someone disturbed Sampson's office. And don't forget about the missing blue binder."

  Jasi had almost forgotten about the binder. It certainly suggested that someone had been inside the Sampson home.

  "Did you dust for prints?" she asked Ben.

  "Matthew sent an evidence team in."

  She pocketed her data-com. "Well, we haven't gotten the report yet, but one way or the other, we're going to find this guy."