"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."
He felt a twinge of fear. "What about you?"
Jasi gave a shrug. "I seem to have better control. I don't get lost in a vision, but I can become very tired. That's all you need to know."
He knew he'd have to wait to learn more about her. Some other time. He was startled at the realization that he wanted there to be another time. The more he discovered about Jasmine McLellan, the more his interest grew.
Observing her across the table, Brandon realized that he wanted her in other ways. There was an undeniable chemistry between them.
Like a nuclear explosion waiting to happen, he mused.
He muffled a soft groan.
Ten minutes into their meal, Brandon saw Jasi stifle a yawn.
"You look exhausted."
His observation flustered her, rendered her speechless.
"What about Agent Roberts," he asked, changing the topic. "How does his gift work?"
Jasi tipped her head, and he could tell that she was trying to determine exactly what or how much to tell him.
"Ben's an excellent profiler."
"And?"
She eyed him warily. "He's a Psychometric Empath. He gets flashes if he touches someone. He can feel their emotions…thoughts."
"A-ha!" Brandon smiled mockingly. "That explains the gloves."
"Ben wears them most of the time, especially when we're around a large group of people. He takes them off when he wants to read someone."
Jasi's eyes narrowed, locking onto his.
"Like me?" Brandon guessed.
Jasi picked at the food on her plate. "Ben needs to know where everyone stands."
"Does he see anything if he touches objects?" Brandon wasn't sure he liked the softened expression in her eyes. He wanted Ben Roberts out of the way.
"No," Jasi answered, shaking her head. "Only when he touches people―live people."
He leaned forward, feeling bold and risqué.
"Are you and Roberts…?"
"A couple?" Jasi laughed. "No! We've worked together for a couple of years. We're friends―good friends."
Her voice lowered. "Don't get any ideas, Walsh."
"Hey!" he said, holding up a hand. "I just asked about the two of you. You know, team dynamics and all."
"Actually, Ben and Natassia have been getting chummy lately. They don't think I've noticed, but…"
Jasi's voice trailed away and she shifted restlessly in her chair.
Watching her, Brandon realized that she was fighting to stay awake. Her eyelids fluttered every now and then.
Must be my stimulating company, he thought dryly.
He emptied the last of the wine into their glasses. They had polished off two bottles during dinner. He credited the wine for the change in Jasi's demeanor. At first, she was suspicious, but then she relaxed.
Brandon caught her eyes and she smiled at him.
Jasi had a drop-dead gorgeous smile.
He passed her a glass. "Here, drink this. It'll help you sleep tonight."
Jasi eyed him suspiciously, then reached out.
When her fingers touched his, he gasped as heat radiated toward him. He experienced a spark, something unusual, pass from her hand to his. And the innocent touch left him craving more.
Brandon was attracted to her. There was no doubt about that. Shaking his head slowly, he reminded himself that she saw him as nothing more than a weight around her neck. But he couldn't stop the sudden need he had. It had been awhile since he had allowed himself to be even remotely interested in a woman, outside of a casual relationship.
Instinctively, Brandon knew that Jasi was not someone who would be satisfied with anything casual.
Nor would he.
Jasi McLellan had awakened something within him.
The next morning, Jasi awoke, groggy and displaced, while the sun beamed brightly outside. Sitting up suddenly, she moaned when a wave of dizziness overcame her.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Familiar sounds greeted her. A flock of sparrows chirped loudly on the balcony. Children shrieked in the hallway.
And Natassia snored softly in the other bed, oblivious to the commotion.
Jasi frowned.
How did she get to her room? The last thing she remembered was having dinner with Brandon Walsh.
Brandon…
The remnants of too much wine bathed her in confusion. She was weightless and lightheaded.
Damn you, Walsh!
She closed her eyes while a memory of strong arms around her came to mind. Pushing the bed covers to her knees, she gasped, horrified to discover that she wore her bra, panties, and…nothing else.
What have I done?
"Natassia?" she whispered anxiously, hiking the blanket to her chin.
The lump in the other bed grunted.
"Natassia!"
Her partner had a habit of sleeping like the dead. Once she fell asleep, Natassia barely moved. Often Jasi would sit beside her, waiting for a sign of life.
Jasi threw the covers aside, grabbed a T-shirt from a drawer and stomped over to the other bed.
She nudged Natassia roughly.
"Wake up! I need to ask you something."
Natassia groaned and tugged the covers over her head.
"What time did I get in last night?" Jasi asked fearfully.
She plopped herself down beside Natassia and yanked back the covers.
Her partner opened one eye and scowled.
"Around 11:30. Why?" Natassia's voice was hoarse from sleep.
"Was I…uh…alone?"
Natassia sat up grumpily. "You mean, was Walsh with you? Of course he was. He had to carry you here."
Jasi's face flushed with embarrassment. "What?"
"You fell asleep on him, Jasi."
On him?
Jasi was horrified.
Resting her pounding head in one hand, she tried to remember last night's dinner.
Did I go back to his room afterward?
"Tell me I didn't do anything foolish," she begged.
Natassia snickered.
"Oh no," Jasi moaned, hiding her head in her arms. "I slept with Brandon Walsh?"
"No, you didn't sleep with him," Natassia grinned, patting Jasi's arm. "You passed out in the middle of the chocolate cheesecake, so he had to carry you up here. But I don't think Brandon would have minded sleeping with you."
Smacking Natassia's hand away, Jasi laughed self-consciously. She was flooded with relief. Nothing had happened between her and Brandon. She should be elated.
So then, why was she ticked off―disappointed?
Natassia rolled over on her side and her mouth stretched into a slow smirk.
"Yup. You were all over him, kissing him. The poor guy."
Jasi groaned.
I kissed him? Oh my God!
She touched her lips lightly and instantly remembered Brandon's hot mouth on hers. She wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep the day away.
How could she possibly face Brandon Walsh now?
Victoria, here we come, Natassia thought.
She darted a quick glance in Jasi and Brandon's direction, and laughed softly. Walsh acted like he had eaten a sour lemon. Jasi, on the other hand, barely spared Walsh a look.
Watching Jasi when she was pissed off was like watching a storm roll in. You could never predict when the thunder would boom or the lightning would strike, but you knew it would happen.
Eventually.
Natassia felt a bit guilty that she had allowed Jasi to believe she had put
the moves on Walsh. But it was just too much fun seeing Jasi squirm. Natassia had told her that she had been hanging all over the man, kissing him and rubbing against him―and that Walsh had just smiled and had enjoyed every minute of it.
The truth was a different story.
Last night, Brandon Walsh had knocked quietly on the door and had carried Jasi into the room with a quick explanation to Natassia. Her partner had had too much wine. With a chuckle, he even admitted that Jasi had kissed him…once.
"She doesn't drink much, does she?" he had asked.
Then he had deposited Jasi on the bed, and had left.
Natassia had debated leaving her friend fully clothed.
Then, with a mischievous change of heart, she had stripped the unconscious Jasi of her pants and shirt. She knew Jasi hated sleeping in her clothes.
Natassia also knew that it would drive her friend crazy when Jasi woke up and found herself dressed only in her underwear.
After all, what are friends for?
Now, eyeing Jasi and Walsh's discomfort, Natassia resisted telling her friend the truth.
Let Jasi think the worst.
At least it made for an interesting flight.
14
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
~ Victoria, BC
The Ops helicopter dropped them off in a field close to Charlotte Foreman's house. The house was located in the outskirts of Victoria in an upper-income neighborhood nestled next to a winding river. Far removed from the hustle and bustle of downtown Victoria.
As Jasi climbed from the helicopter, the humid air hit her like an overactive sauna. The temperature soared, making the back of her neck sticky with perspiration. Squinting toward the sun, she slid on a pair of dark sunglasses.
"It's gonna be another hot one."
She saw Brandon cast a quick glance in her direction.
Yeah, she shuddered. Real hot.
From where they stood, they could see the green-shingled roof of the Foreman's house.
"The shed was completely destroyed," Natassia said, consulting her data-com.
"It's probably been cleared away by now," Brandon added.
Jasi nodded. "Which neighbor called it in?"
"A Jessica Marie Taranko, 1206 Waterton Lane," Natassia said, pointing down the road. "Two houses down from the Foremans. Taranko's backyard is on a curve so she can see into their yard."
Jasi studied the neighborhood. It was a quiet, remote area with a river tucked behind dense woods. Not a lot of traffic―in or out.
It's the perfect place…to commit a murder.
"What do you think, Natassia?"
Her partner scanned the neighborhood. "We'll need to canvas the street, see if anyone else saw anything."
"How about Jasi and I take the Taranko woman?" Brandon suggested to Natassia.
Standing behind him, Jasi shook her head emphatically.
Natassia ignored her, smiling slyly. "Okay. I'll knock on doors."
Jasi seethed indignantly.
How could her friend do this to her?
She glared in Natassia's direction and mouthed the words: I'll get you!
Then, resigned to her fate, she stomped off after Brandon.
"Hold on a minute, Walsh." When he didn't acknowledge her, Jasi shouted. "Brandon! Wait up!"
"Sorry," Brandon muttered when she caught up to him.
Sucking on a can of OxyBlast, Jasi strode briskly down the sidewalk, edging closer to Charlotte Foreman's house.
Brandon's eyes darkened. "How close can you get without that stuff?"
"It's hard to tell," she answered. "Every fire is different. I have to consider how many people have been injured or have died. It also depends on how strong their psychic energy is. Better to be safe than sorry."
Brandon reached out, one finger lightly tracing the scar on her chin.
She held her breath, nervous and afraid.
"How'd you get this?"
Jasi exhaled slowly and self-consciously touched the small jagged scar.
"It's a long story, Brandon. One I'm not prepared to tell right now."
"Okay," he said with a shrug. "We can swap scar stories later."
They rounded a corner and she pointed to an unpretentious two-story house on a small crescent-shaped lot. Jessica Taranko's house. From where she stood, Jasi could make out the Foreman's deck on the opposite side of the Taranko backyard. Only a fence separated the two.
Allowing Brandon to go first, she couldn't help but admire his well-shaped arms. That sudden thought reminded her of the night before. What the hell had she done? She couldn't very well ask him.
She followed him along a brick sidewalk until they came to the front door of Jessica Marie Taranko's house. Brandon raised a hand, but before he could knock, a girl's voice called out.
"Yeah?"
Surprised, they glanced around.
No one was there.
"Whatcha want?" the voice asked again, muffled and distorted.
Jasi pointed to a com-link box beside the door. "We tripped a security scanner. Probably hidden in the bushes along the sidewalk or set into the steps to the door."
She took out her badge and examined the side of the house. When she found what she was looking for, she held her ID in front of a camera lens.
"We just need to ask you a few questions about Charlotte Foreman."
"Okay, come on in. Door's open."
The door beeped softly and three locks disengaged.
"Wow!" Brandon whistled. "Some security system."
Jasi agreed.
This kind of security was uncommon, especially in a neighborhood like this one. Maybe the system was installed after the Foreman's shed was set on fire. After two people died a horrifying death.
A petite young girl with multi-colored streaks in her shoulder length hair made her way toward them. She wore hip-hugging cotton pajamas and her feet were bare. The pajama top was cropped, showing off a bronzed and very flat stomach.
Self-consciously, Jasi sucked in her abdomen, eyeing the small diamond that glittered in the girl's navel.
"We're looking for the home owner," she said. "Uh…Jessica Marie Taranko."
The girl laughed. "Yeah, that's me."
Jessica Taranko eyed Brandon with interest. The girl zeroed in on his lean body and chiseled jaw. Then she stretched languidly, like a wildcat comfortable in her own domain, and smiled at him.
Irritated by the girl's flirtatious manner, Jasi's brow grew pinched. She groaned in disgust when she noticed Brandon's eyes trailing after the girl as they were led through the house.
Scoping out the place, Jasi whistled in appreciation. The furnishings and electronic equipment must have cost over ten thousand dollars.
How could a girl Jessica's age afford to buy stuff like this? Or her own home?
Jessica showed them to a small living room. Black leather furniture framed with polished chrome and glass tables faced a huge vid-wall. The wall was activated and was playing a music video―heavy on the base and computer synthesizers.
Techno dance music, Jasi recognized.
Glancing from the singer on the screen to the young girl beside him, Brandon's eyes widened. "You're that Jessica Marie?"
Jasi studied the music video.
Brandon was right. The singer in the video was none other than Jessica Marie Taranko. Jessica Marie―to her fans. Now Jasi understood how a girl her age could afford to buy a house like this one.
Jessica Marie was a singing sensation in North America and Europe. At nineteen years old, she had gone further than any other pop star. She had taken off in 2007, replacing Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera.
"My sister, Sierra, loves your music," Brandon remarked. "I got her your Good Girl MD for her birthday. By the way, I'm Brandon Walsh. I'm with Arson Investigations."
The singer flopped onto the leather sofa, looked up at him and patted the space beside her. "Hope your sister liked Good Girl."
Jasi gritted her teeth when Brandon s
at down beside the girl. Time to show him who's in charge, she thought angrily. Shaking her head in disdain, she activated her data-com, recorded a brief introduction and slapped it on the table between them.
"Miss…um, Jessica," she said, taking the seat across from the girl. "We're here about Charlotte Foreman's murder."
The singer nodded, pulling her legs up underneath her and leaning her knees against Brandon's thigh.
Jasi tried to curb her temper and waited for him to move away.
Instead, he shrugged as if to say, 'What can I do?'
"Jessica, tell us what happened the night of the fire," Jasi said abruptly.
"I told the police everything I remember. Nothing's changed. I got home early that day. I just finished cutting a new single, Living Dangerous, and I was, like, exhausted. So I came home and started making supper. A few minutes later I smelled smoke. I thought I was, like, burning the chicken at first."
Jessica gave Brandon a wry smile. "Then I realized the smoke was coming from outside. When I went out onto my deck, I could see Mrs. Foreman's shed on fire."
"What'd you do?" Jasi asked.
Jessica briefly closed her eyes. "I called 911. Then I waited. I thought it was just her shed." The girl's voice filled with remorse and her eyes teared. "I had no idea that poor woman and that little girl were inside."
Brandon reached over and patted Jessica's arm. "There was no way for you to know."
Resisting a tug of jealousy, Jasi pulled a clean tissue from her bag and pressed it into the girl's hand. "Even if you had known, Jessica, there's nothing you could have done to save them."
"I almost sold my house after that," the singer admitted hesitantly.
"Because you didn't feel safe?" Jasi asked.
"I thought that whoever had killed Mrs. Foreman might, like, come back here," the girl confessed. "You know, return to the scene of the crime?"
Jasi could understand the girl's fear. Jessica's theory of the killer returning wasn't that farfetched. It was a documented fact that most murderers returned to the scene so that they could relive the crime. Sometimes they slipped into the crowds of curious bystanders who watched while the crime scene was processed.
"That's why the press didn't mention me," Jessica murmured. "I offered them interviews in return for keeping my name out of the papers."
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