Divine Intervention (22 page)

Waking the man, he asked the cabby to drop him off at the Prestige Inn. As the taxi drove away from the house, he glanced back.

Near the waterfall, Martin Gibney's wife stood stone-still and peered up at her home with a despondent look on her face.

Shaking his head, Ben realized that he would never understand women. He couldn't understand why Lydia Gibney would put her marriage, her security―
everything
, at risk.

Especially for a man like Allan Baker.

Activating his data-com, he called Jasi.

When she answered, Ben uttered three grim words.

"Baker is innocent."

19

"Ben says that Baker isn't the arsonist," Jasi mumbled in shock. "Said he'd tell us everything after he gets here."

She was dumbfounded. And a bit pissed off that Baker had turned out to be innocent. The guy deserved a public humiliation―not a sympathetic pat on the back.

Jasi groaned aloud. Their investigation was hitting one brick wall after another, and she was ready to pull out the dynamite. She itched to get moving again. The hotel room was cramped. Too many people, too many frustrations. She wondered whether Brandon and Natassia were feeling it too.

The chair next to Brandon was vacant so she parked herself in it and allowed her thoughts to drift. Then she glared down at her data-com, positive that it had malfunctioned. How could Ben say that their number one suspect was in the clear?

"I must have misunderstood him," she muttered.

Brandon was watching her like a hawk circling its prey.

"What?" she demanded. "Everything pointed to Baker."

"I know," he said. "I thought the bastard was guilty too."

Magnetic attraction tugged at her heart. She experienced it more often, now that Brandon Walsh was involved in the investigation. Watching him from the corner of her eye, she realized that she was inexplicably drawn to him―the proverbial '
moth to a flame'
.

When she was close to him, a searing heat invaded her body and a tight breathlessness clamped around her lungs. It had been a long time since a man had made her feel anything.

But why the hell had it been
this
man?

The thought made her angry. She was furious with herself for being so weak. Why did she have to fall for an Arson Investigator?

Aware of his every move, she peeked at him again and was captured in his pale eyes. Yeah, she was attracted to him, she admitted to herself. But falling for Brandon Walsh was like…like―

She instantly had visions of small furry animals lined up at a cliff's edge. What were they called?

Lemmings!

She was a lemming throwing herself off a cliff, plunging to her doom. Voluntarily.

She shook her head to rid herself of the image.

"Now what? Where do we go from here?"

Brandon reached across, resting his arm casually over the back of her chair. "We go over all the files until Ben gets here. Then we figure this out…together."

His hand unconsciously kneaded her shoulder. His touch was gentle, caring.

Quivering inside, she lost her concentration―until she caught Natassia's wink. Stifling the urge to swear at someone, Jasi pushed her chair back and stood quickly, knocking Brandon's arm away.

"Vid-wall on!" She grabbed a pop from the fridge and chugged it back.

For the next half-hour they rechecked every piece of data, scrutinized every file. Somewhere between the evidence reports and their visions, lay a clue.

The soil sample revealed minute traces of industrial car wash chemicals. It was a dead end. The chemicals could have been picked up on the arsonist's boots anywhere.

The boot print was a bust. Anyone could purchase a pair of Thermogard Cruisers, including campers, search and rescue, firefighters, paramedics, oil field workers and farmers. None of their suspects had footwear that size. Of course, one of them could be smart enough to wear larger boots to throw the CFBI off course.

As for the diesel and the lighter, the Super Clean diesel could have been purchased by anyone with an empty gas can. And not one fingerprint was lifted from the Gemini lighter.

The yellow fabric Jasi had discovered in the woods was the only solid clue left.

"Where's that report on the fabric?" she demanded.

Natassia gave her a sheepish look. "Uh…it's been misplaced."

"Misplaced? How the hell did Ops
misplace
a vital piece of evidence?"

"I sent it to Ops via the helicopter. The pilot was new and―"

"And he was probably concentrating on other things," Jasi added, eyeing Natassia's chest pointedly.

"Sorry."

"It's not your fault. I just wish we'd get a damned break."

A few minutes later, Jasi brought up the files on Washburn and Charlotte Foreman, placing them side by side.

"Natassia, give me a quick rundown on your vision."

"Okay. Dr. Washburn was an alcoholic. The board wanted him out of Kelowna General because he was drinking on the job and using drugs to keep himself going. His wife, Freda, knew that he slept―" Natassia's head snapped up and her eyes widened.

"What?" Jasi asked.

"He had an affair with a prostitute and wondered if his wife knew."

Washburn probably kept poor Freda in the dark about a lot of things, Jasi thought. The man had certainly done his fair share of sleeping around.

From the bar fridge, she fisted a pack of salted cashews.

"What about the woman giving birth and the boy in the back of the room?" she asked, ripping the bag open.

Natassia bit her lip. "I think the woman was someone Washburn knew. But it wasn't Sarah Baker or Freda."

"And the boy with his arm in a sling?" Brandon asked. "Who was he―Baker?"

"I'm not sure," Natassia admitted. "I don't really get the sense that Washburn knows this boy that well. I'd have to say
no
. The boy isn't Allan Baker."

"Can't you go back to Washburn's body, try again?"

Jasi shook her head, surprised that Brandon would even suggest such a thing. "She can't do it again."

"One reading. That's all I get," Natassia explained. "Then the psychic imprint or energy dissipates. There's nothing left of Dr. Norman Washburn to read."

Jasi's eyes wandered over Brandon, settling on his sensuous mouth. "We have to focus on our visions, Natassia. There's a connection there somewhere. We just have to find it." She popped a cashew in her mouth.

"I think the connection is the woman in Natassia's vision," Brandon interjected.

She realized that he was right. They needed to uncover the identity of the woman in Natassia's vision.

"If Washburn was involved in something illeg―"

"There's no 'if' about it," Ben said from the doorway. "I just talked to Lydia Gibney. Her husband and Norman Washburn were involved in an underground abortion clinic from about 1975 to 2001."

He strode into the room, plunking his data-com on the table.

"They started in Victoria then continued here. Gibney convinced Washburn to give it up a few years ago. Then Washburn blackmailed him, swearing Gibney to secrecy."

"That's how Washburn forced Gibney to talk the board into keeping him on for so long," Natassia said, moving the empty chair beside her.

Ben dropped into the chair, stretching his long legs.

"Yeah. He knew that Gibney would do whatever it took to ensure that the board never discovered the abortion business."

The possibility that Gibney had killed Washburn had already crossed Jasi's mind. Washburn used him to keep his position. Martin Gibney would have been terrified that Washburn would screw up again, maybe inadvertently leak something to the press.

Or to his son, Jasi thought.

"And Baker?" she asked, emptying the bag of nuts into her mouth.

Ben shook his head. "He's got an alibi. He was at the Golden Sands Motel with Lydia Gibney. Baker used his credit card and the manager remembers seeing them leave. I think Martin Gibney warrants a closer look."

"Do you think Gibney was desperate enough to murder Washburn? To keep him quiet and get him out of the way?"

"Let's find out."

Ben called up Gibney's home number.

A minute later he hung up.

"He's in a meeting, according to his wife. We can catch him at the hospital if we hurry."

Jasi jumped to her feet and shoved her arms into the sleeves of her jacket. "Let's go."

Brandon started to rise but she blocked him.

"Not you, Walsh." She gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry. CFBI has jurisdiction over this arrest. And there's no need for all of us to go. Ben and I can handle Gibney."

From the corner of her eye, she caught Ben watching her. He winged one brow, questioning her decision. She prayed that he would keep his mouth shut.

When Jasi looked back at Brandon, his pale eyes flashed and his jaw clenched. He was pissed off but she couldn't allow his ego to interfere. She didn't want him with her. His close proximity clouded her judgement.

His slightest touch made her forget where she was.

How do I explain this to him?

To Natassia she said, "Check to see if they found the fabric yet. Okay?"

"So what am I supposed to do?" Brandon growled in her ear.

His mouth hovered inches from hers.

Jasi swallowed hard. "Wait for us. We won't be long."

Closing the door firmly behind her, she tried to ignore the twinge of guilt. Leaving Brandon Walsh out in the cold did not sit too well with her.

"Walsh isn't so bad, Jasi."

She was sitting with Ben in the back of a Speedy taxi while it wound its way through the heavy traffic. The driver had been enticed with a fifty-dollar bill to get them to the hospital within ten minutes. Of course, Ben never specified that they had to arrive in one piece, so the driver zipped through the lanes, passing everything in sight.

"Jesus!" she shouted, gritting her teeth as the taxi veered around a corner and swiped the curb.

She gripped the door handle, promising herself she'd never take a taxi in Kelowna again.

Her eyes held Ben's. "Did you read him?"

Ben nodded.

"And?"

"Brandon Walsh really cares about you."

She snorted in disbelief.

"Jasi, he's a good man. He won't betray you."

She turned and stared out the window at the flash of cars that passed by. They were in the middle of rush hour traffic. Everyone was in a hurry to get home.

"I know," she said finally. "But you know what happens if I get too involved, when I care about someone. It's just so hard to trust anyone."

Her partner's face grew dark, clouded. "Brandon Walsh is not like―"

Jasi grabbed his arm. "I don't want to talk about
him
."

"Here's the hospital," the taxi driver cut in. "Eight minutes, twenty two seconds. If you give me twenty more, I'll wait for you."

The dark-skinned man swiveled in his seat and grinned at Jasi.

It was Ahmed.

The driver who had ditched her outside City Hall.

Ben reached into his wallet, counting out fifty dollars, but Jasi shook her head.

Peeling thirty dollars from his hand, she shoved it toward Ahmed.

"Hey!" the driver whined. "You promised fifty."

Jasi's deadly look made the man gasp.

Leaning forward, she gripped the back of Ahmed's seat. Then she locked eyes with the man. "I gave you an extra twenty the other day to wait for me by City Hall. Remember, Ahmed?"

The tone of her voice was threatening and dark.

Ahmed squinted.

She could tell the moment he recognized her.

The man's eyes bulged with dismay. His jaw dropped and he probably would have argued with her, except that he spotted the 9-millimeter semiautomatic Jasi had strapped inside her jacket.

His beady black eyes flicked from her to Ben.

Raising his hands in surrender, he whimpered in fear.

"Okay, lady. No problem."

When they stepped from the taxi, Ben raised one brow, questioning her tactics.

"What? I hate being ditched!" Jasi snapped, stomping furiously toward the hospital doors.

Inside the crowded hospital, an old man hobbled past them wearing only a pale blue hospital gown. Jasi choked back a hoot of laughter when she noticed that the man had forgotten to fasten the back of the gown. The ties dangled to the ground behind him as his bare wrinkled bottom wobbled down the hall.

"Gibney's on the third floor, Boardroom A," Ben said, returning from the information desk.