Ben glanced at her sharply. "After your call to Baker, he left the hotel in a black BMW."
Lydia smiled mysteriously.
"Follow me, Agent Roberts."
She led him to a door on the side of the house. When she entered a security code the door opened, revealing a three-car garage. Parked in the middle stall, a Series 7 black BMW sedan gleamed expensively.
Ben drew a deep breath.
Baker, you son-of-a-bitch!
The man had left the hotel and he had lied about it.
They had him!
Lydia's voice grew quiet, solemn. "Allan and I met in the back of the hotel."
"So where did you drop him off?" Ben asked, concealing his excitement.
She glanced up, confused. "I didn't drop him anywhere. I picked him up and we went back to the Golden Sands Motel on Lakeshore Drive. I wasn't comfortable going back to his hotel room. There were too many of Martin's friends at the gala."
Damn!
Baker had an alibi.
And, Ben realized miserably, it would be easy to verify it with the manager at the Golden Sands Motel.
"How long did Baker stay with you at the Golden Sands?" he asked, a final shot in the dark.
Lydia turned away, ashamed. "Until almost three in the morning."
That let Baker off the hook completely.
Son-of-a-bitch! Allan Baker was innocent.
Ben clicked off his data-com, signaling that the interview was over.
"Here's my card," he said, scribbling his cell number on the back. "If you think of anything else, please get in touch with me. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Gibney."
Lydia Gibney escorted him to a garden gate, clutching the business card in her hand.
"Thank you, Agent Roberts―for your discretion."
He knew that the woman wanted nothing more than a guarantee that he wouldn't expose her affair with Allan Baker.
"You realize that the press will probably get wind of all this," he apologized. "I can't―"
"I know," she interrupted, holding up one hand. "Martin will find out. The house is wired with security cameras. He'll know you were here again."
Lydia swallowed hard. "I think I'll tell him tomorrow―before he hears about it on the news."
Ben smiled grimly, unsure of what to say.
"That's probably a good idea, Mrs. Gibney."
Without a word, the woman accompanied him down the sidewalk to the front yard. She waved goodbye, one hand shading her eyes from the sun.
Heading for the street, Ben was relieved to see that the taxi driver had waited. The driver was asleep. His baseball cap was pulled over his face to shade him from the hot sun.
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 do
ne 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.
Stepping into the elevator, Jasi zipped her jacket halfway, concealing her gun from curious eyes.
"How do you want to handle this?" she asked Ben when they reached the third floor.
"Boardroom A is to the left." He pointed to a hospital directory hanging on the wall. "We don't know if there's an alternate escape, so we'll just have to push our way in."
In front of the door to the boardroom, a receptionist's desk stood unmanned. The waiting area was empty too.
"We're in luck, Ben."
Jasi unzipped her jacket.
Gripping the gun firmly, she kept her hand tucked inside. No need to alarm everyone in the meeting. If they could take Gibney quietly…
Ben barged into the room.
She followed on his heels, taking long, brisk strides.
"Martin Gibney?" Ben demanded.
Jasi scoured the startled faces of the board members.
"There!" she hissed.
Gibney was bent over a stack of legal documents.
"A-Agent Roberts?" he stuttered. "What are you doing here?"
Bewildered, he straightened slightly.
Jasi detected fear in Gibney's eyes.
He knows something, she realized. But was he a serial arsonist?
Ben strode over to the cowering man and grabbed his arm. "Martin Gibney, we have a few questions for you. If you'll come with us, please."
"Is there somewhere private we can talk?" Jasi asked the man.
"There's a private lounge, two doors down."
A terrified Gibney motioned them to follow while fifteen shocked board members sat mutely.
"We're just questioning him," Jasi assured one woman on her way out the door.
"For now," she heard Ben mutter, annoyed.
When they were safely ensconced in the lounge, Ben ordered three hospital workers out, then locked the door behind them and told Gibney to sit.
"Voice record on!" Jasi commanded, placing her data-com on the conference table.
Taking the seat across from the doctor, Ben leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table between them and clasped both hands firmly.
"We need to know exactly what was going on with you and Dr. Washburn. We have proof that you were both involved in illegal abortion activities."
Gibney's mouth hung open. "I'm not saying anything."
"This is your last opportunity to talk to us."
"I want my lawyer," Gibney argued, staring at the wall.
"That's up to you," Jasi shrugged. "But then we'd have to bring you in for questioning. And we might have to find you some cellmates to teach you how to play nice."
She smiled acidly and perched on the edge of the table.
Jasi suspected that Gibney wouldn't like being dragged out in handcuffs, or the countless hours of processing and waiting around a police station. She also suspected that making new friends in a Kelowna jail cell wasn't Gibney's idea of a good time either.
"I'll lose my job, my house―everything," Gibney whined, desperation carved into his face.
"Then tell us what you know," she warned. "It's in your best interest to talk to us. If you answer our questions, then we may not have to bring you in. Right, Ben?"
Divine Trilogy Page 15
