Divine Intervention (Divine Trilogy)

by Cheryl Kaye Tardif

  "No," Jasi replied. "The one we took from Washburn's will do." She glanced over at Natassia. "Can you get some photos?"

  Natassia immediately brought out her data-com and a flexible ruler. She placed the ruler beside the print and took a few photographs.

  While Natassia was busy, Brandon watched Jasi carefully. He noticed that her face had regained some color and that she appeared more rested.

  He steered her a few feet away from her partner.

  "You feeling better?"

  Startled, Jasi's eyes flickered toward his. Swallowing hard, she mumbled, "I'm fine, Walsh."

  His eyes grazed hers and held her captive. Then he swept a hand in front, indicating for her to go on ahead.

  "I'll follow."

  He heard her snicker and wondered what was so funny.

  When Jasi reached a fallen cedar tree, she stopped suddenly. "He wanted to go around but the ground was too boggy."

  Brandon held his breath as Jasi slowly climbed up onto the tree. The girth of the trunk was too wide for her to straddle so her long legs curled underneath her. She started to part the tree limbs in front of her, ducking her head through a small opening.

  Suddenly Jasi stopped.

  "Natassia! Have you got an evidence container?"

  "What have you got?" Brandon asked.

  "Our killer left behind some trace." She pointed to a small piece of shiny yellow fabric snagged on a branch.

  Using a long pair of tweezers, Jasi picked up the fabric and gently slid it into a clear evidence tube. Then she held it up to the sun.

  "There's some thread on it," she said, handing the tube back to Natassia.

  "I'll get it to Ops," Natassia promised, carefully pocketing the sealed container.

  "Data-com on!" Jasi commanded. "Phone Ben."

  When Brandon heard Roberts' voice on the speaker, he thought it sounded tired.

  "What's up?" Ben Roberts asked.

  Jasi caught Brandon's eye, blushed and turned away. "We found something, Ben. A piece of plastic cloth. Yellow―bright yellow. It could be from a hat, a gym bag…or a yellow jacket."

  "Just like my vision," Natassia murmured.

  "Okay," Roberts said. "I'm going to the Paloma now. I'll check Baker's room for anything yellow. Divine has a team searching his home in Vancouver too."

  When the transmission ended, Jasi looked at Brandon. "Do you believe in me now?"

  He dragged in a breath. He knew his answer was important. To both of them. Strangely, he didn't want to let her down.

  "I'm starting to," he admitted softly.

  "Okay," she nodded. "Let's keep going."

  He followed her through the trees until they reached the edge of the woods. The river loomed close by, its surface broken by rocks and whitewater foam. In a few areas near the shore, the water was glassy calm.

  Deceptively calm, he thought.

  Ahead, Jasi came to an abrupt stop.

  Watching her stare out over the river, Brandon wondered what she was thinking. He stepped forward, about to ask her, when Natassia's arm reached out and restrained him.

  "He stopped here," Jasi whispered after a moment. "He felt powerful and in control. One person off his list. Charlotte was the first to die…but she wouldn't be the last."

  Brandon couldn't control the sudden chill that racked his spine. What was it like to be linked to a killer's mind? He had to admit that there was more to Jasi's special gift than some hocus-pocus nonsense.

  Victoria PD had missed a vital piece of evidence.

  He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. He realized that he was beginning to believe in the unthinkable―that Jasi had psychic abilities and could reach into the mind of a psychopath. That possibility terrified him more than he wanted to admit.

  "There's nothing more for us here," Jasi murmured softly.

  "Are you all right?" Natassia asked, concerned.

  Without answering, Jasi headed back toward the chopper.

  Brandon was relieved. With a shiver, he glanced back at Charlotte Foreman's house. A house of empty shadows.

  Aboard the helicopter, he nudged Jasi. "Why don't you get some sleep? Natassia and I'll take care of the reports."

  Jasi's eyes flashed angrily while she jerked on her safety belt. "Don't baby me, Walsh! I'm fully capable of pulling my own weight around here."

  Brandon realized that Jasi was desperate to prove herself, to validate her abilities. But why did she push herself so hard? She needed to surrender her stubborn pride. Maybe then Jasi wouldn't walk around acting so angry all the time.

  But, damn she was sexy when she was angry!

  "Just have a quick nap―"

  "I can't afford to rest," she glared, cutting him off. "I have a report to file. And I have to call Cameron and give her an update. I'll get her to do some research."

  Brandon heaved a sigh of frustration.

  Jasmine McLellan, you're infuriating!

  "Cameron?" he heard her say into her data-com receiver. "I'm uploading a file to you. What's your email address?"

  A few minutes later, she disconnected and Brandon watched while she filled out a report.

  Sleep is what you need, he thought.

  He smiled slyly when he caught her yawning. Rather than accept his suggestion, she fought to stay awake by making notes on her data-com. He relaxed as her eyes closed after five minutes. When the data-com slipped from her hands and fell to the floor, he chuckled softly.

  Jasi slept for the remainder of the flight as though she hadn't slept in days. Even the occasional air turbulence didn't stir her.

  Her partner, Natassia Prushenko, on the other hand, remained wide awake. Natassia spent the entire flight to Kelowna watching him. When she caught him staring at Jasi, she grinned and gave him a knowing look.

  Brandon gritted his teeth, his eyes resting on Jasi.

  Women!

  16

  ~ Kelowna, BC

  I smiled while I read the newspaper.

  There was a picture of the good old doctor on the front page, along with a report on his untimely death.

  "You deserved it, you bastard!"

  Reading the reporter's column I was surprised to discover that AI agent Brandon Walsh was on the case. That made me nervous. The man was good―the best in his field.

  Flinging the paper to the floor, I cursed under my breath. It was bad enough that the CFBI had been called in. I could almost feel their breath on my neck. They were getting close…too close. But I had myself to blame for that.

  I never should have sent them the first lighter.

  "Are you new?" a voice said behind me.

  Glancing back at one of my co-workers, I nodded. "Yeah, I transferred from Vancouver. A month ago."

  I hoped that would end his questions.

  "Must've been busy in Van." He eyed me strangely and I wondered if he suspected something. "I know some of the guys down there. You know Ryan Wilson?"

  Trapped, I shrugged. "I wasn't there very long. I probably bumped into him somewhere along the line."

  Hurrying, I grabbed my jacket and boots from the locker and made for the door.

  "You off?" the man hollered after me.

  Irritated, I gritted my teeth, turned to him and smiled. "I have the next two days off."

  The man suddenly grinned. "You gotta hot date?"

  I chuckled softly. "Oh, yeah. Definitely a hot one."

  The man's laughter pursued me down the hallway while I rushed from the building. My boots felt heavy, like concrete blocks. My heart thumped so loudly in my chest I wondered if anyone else could hear it.

  When I reached my car, I jumped inside and locked the doors. I looked in the rear view mirror. No one had followed me out. I was safe. If anyone I worked with found out that I was responsible for three deaths…

  The thought made me laugh.

  How stupid my co-workers were! No one had even checked to ensure that my transfer papers were legitimate. It was so easy to get in, so easy
to fool them all.

  I forced myself to go back to my original list.

  Pulling a folded piece of paper from the glove compartment, I read it slowly. Each person on my list had sworn to protect me. Yet, all had done irreparable damage to me.

  Charlotte Foreman had been incinerated for her betrayal. Too bad about the kid. Dr. Norman Washburn had been easy. He had finally paid for his crimes.

  I smiled at the next name on the list.

  Here was someone responsible for my endless torture. Torture…hmmm. Yes, that was how this person would pay.

  I jammed the key into the ignition, eager to start.

  But first I needed to make a call. And pick up some diesel, I reminded myself. I couldn't get it from work this time. Too dangerous. Someone might notice.

  Driving a few kilometers out of town, I pulled over at a truck stop. From the trunk I removed a large gas can and walked over to the pumps.

  "Can I help you?" a young attendant asked.

  "I need some diesel for my truck back home," I lied.

  The boy's complexion was bad. Acne and red patches marred his face. I felt sorry for him. When I looked at him, he stared back, unblinking.

  He gave me a strange look, then took the can I offered and filled it. "Will that be all?" He shifted nervously from side to side.

  I nodded and paid him quickly.

  Securing the gas lid, I threw the can in the trunk and sped off toward Kelowna. When I reached downtown, I took a detour toward a mall.

  I needed a phone―one that couldn't be traced to me.

  Shoving my hands in my pockets, I quickly made my way through the shoppers and teenagers in the parking lot. Just inside the mall doors, a row of phone booths lined the wall. Selecting an empty booth, I stepped inside and after consulting the phonebook, I made a call. I used a piece of paper towel to hold the receiver, to hide my prints.

  A few minutes later I smiled and hung up. Now all I had to do was make sure the area was empty. No innocents this time. I had one more call to make, but I'd do that much later.

  Glancing at my watch, I realized it was already after six o'clock. I felt a sense of urgency mixed with excitement. Tonight's fire was going to be the last. Part of me felt relieved. Part of me wondered whether I would be able to stop.

  I thought about the CFBI's involvement. After reading about Agent Jasmine McLellan and the Parliament Murders, I had challenged her by sending a Gemini lighter to CFBI headquarters. I always wondered what she had thought when she received the small package.

  There was something strange about the woman. I couldn't put my finger on it. Watching her on TV and reading about her gave me the impression that she was solely responsible for solving the Parliament case.

  Walking quickly, I scoffed at the idea that Agent McLellan could be that intelligent. How good could she really be? She had stood next to me, talked to me…and not even suspected a thing.

  I laughed aloud. She hadn't caught me yet.

  Catching my reflection in a shop mirror, I paused. For a moment, it was like someone else― a monster―was staring back at me through my own eyes.

  How could this monster be me?

  Shaking my head nervously, I backed away and knocked over an old woman. She glared at me and whacked my leg with her cane. She reminded me of Charlotte Foreman and I aimed a deadly look in her direction.

  When the woman saw my face, she panicked and stumbled away in fear.

  I strolled from the mall, feeling confident in my plan. Reaching my car, I climbed in and headed for my apartment. On the radio, the weather forecasters were predicting a mild night with calm skies.

  I glanced at my list.

  Reading the third name, I smiled.

  Calm skies? How wrong they were.

  Tonight was going to be a night to remember.

  A storm was coming.

  And it was going to be a scorcher.

  17

  ~ Penticton, BC

  While Jasi, Natassia and Brandon Walsh worked the Foreman crime scene in Victoria, Ben flew to Penticton where he watched endless disks of security footage from the Paloma Springs Hotel. Each floor had surveillance in the hallways while separate cameras monitored every elevator.

  That meant twelve disks had to be scanned.

  He had entered the security room of the hotel with a flash of a warrant and his ID. The hotel manager was eager to assist in the investigation, hoping either for some free publicity or for a quick resolution.

  Ben wasn't sure which.

  "Wait!" he ordered suddenly. "Stop there."

  A security technician pushed the pause button.

  Premier Allan Baker's image was captured on the monitor. He was following a woman down the hallway. The woman turned and smiled seductively at the Premier, then crooked a finger in his direction.

  Lifting her chin, Lydia Gibney unknowingly smiled straight into the lens of a security camera. She wore a sheer black dress with a silver scarf trailing elegantly over one shoulder. Her jet-black hair was swirled into an elaborate up-do. A couple of wisps had escaped and curled next to her diamond-studded ears. Her dark eyes were shadowed in sultry shades and her blood-red lips pouted innocently.

  "Want me to play it from here?" the security tech asked.

  Ben nodded.

  The technician pushed play and the images began to move.

  They watched while Baker pressed a slightly intoxicated Lydia against the wall next to his hotel door. The Premier quickly glanced down the hall, then leaned forward and kissed Martin Gibney's wife…slowly.

  Ben shifted uncomfortably.

  The naked passion in the woman's eyes made him feel like a voyeur. He watched while Baker tugged her into his hotel room and closed the door behind them.

  The computer screen showed a time counter in the bottom right hand corner.

  "Can you fast forward until there's some activity in the hall?" Ben asked.

  Just as Alyssa Bines had recalled, there was no one in the hall for almost half an hour. Then the Premier's door opened and an upset Lydia stumbled into the hallway. She grabbed onto the Premier's arm but Baker callously pushed her away.

  Ben swore softly.

  The tech zoomed in on Lydia's image.

  The woman looked at Baker with a wounded expression in her eyes. She pleaded with him but he shook his head angrily. She shouted something and stormed down the hall toward the elevator while Baker hovered in the doorway. Then the door to his room slammed shut.

  Ben watched the clock on the screen tick by slowly.

  Then he saw Baker reappear. The man exited his hotel room and went into an elevator. He was talking to someone on his cell phone. Baker had sworn that he had remained at the party, that he hadn't left the hotel.

  Yet, Ben had sensed the man wasn't being honest.

  "Can you set up the disk for that elevator?"

  After five minutes, he found what he was searching for. The security camera had caught Premier Allan Baker leaving the elevator at the basement level. Before the elevator doors closed, Ben spotted Baker sneaking out a door marked Housekeeping.

  "Stop there."

  The camera froze on the closing door.

  "Where does that go to?"

  The technician eyed Ben, then jerked his head toward the screen. "That's housekeeping. Where we keep supplies, do laundry―that sort of stuff."

  "Can you access the outside from there?"

  "Yeah. There's a door to the back parking lot."

  Ben felt a ripple of excitement.

  Baker had left the hotel.

  But where the heck had the bastard gone? And what vehicle had he driven?

  "Do you have a camera for the back parking lot?"

  The technician navigated through the camera listings, then brought up the disk with the parking lot surveillance.

  "There's your man."

  Baker was getting into the passenger side of a black car.

  "Can you enlarge it?" Ben asked.

  The picture grew di
storted as the tech zoomed in, but Ben identified the vehicle―a black BMW sedan.

  Probably a 7 Series, he thought. A high-end vehicle for someone with money.

  The license plate number was obscured by the angle of the camera. The moving shadows inside the car indicated the presence of one other person besides Premier Baker. The driver. But the windows of the car were so heavily tinted that Ben couldn't identify him.

  Disappointed, he watched while Baker and the mystery driver sped away into the night.

  "I'll need the disks we looked at," he stated firmly.

  Obediently, the security tech handed him the three disks.

  "Thanks. I'm ready to see Premier Baker's room now."

  "Okay," the tech agreed, pressing a button on his desk. "I'll get Kathy to let you in."

  Ben was about to ask who Kathy was, when a security guard barged into the office, breathless and red-faced. The woman was of native heritage. Her almond eyes were framed by cropped black hair. Her skin was weathered.

  From roasting in the sun, he mused.

  "Kathy Fairmont," the woman grunted.

  Her voice was low and gruff, like someone who had smoked two packs a day since birth. She was a woman trapped in a man's body. A body that probably weighed over three hundred pounds.

  Ben introduced himself, ensuring that his gloves were on securely. There was no way he wanted to pick up anything from Kathy Fairmont's mind.

  "CFBI agent, huh?" the woman mumbled.

  She peered down her flat nose, huffing in disdain. Her three chins, one of which sprouted a large brown mole, mesmerized him.

  Battleaxe. That's what came to Ben's mind.

  "This way," Battleaxe said coolly.

  She marched down the hall toward the elevator and waited inside, tapping her foot. He remained silent during the quick ride up to the fourth floor where Kathy led him down a hallway, the rolls of her uniform-clad buttocks swinging from side to side.

  The woman walks like she has a bug up her ass, Ben thought with a snort.

  Kathy's eyes aimed poisoned darts at him. "Yeah?"

  "Something wrong?" he asked innocently.