Until Jasi saw her again.
6
"Let's go over the report on Winkler," Ben said.
Pushing his empty plate aside, he read the screen for a minute, then sighed. The report was less than he'd hoped for.
"The accelerant used was regular gasoline," he said. "Remnants of his clothing match the suit that his wife reported he was last wearing. No trace."
"What about the wounds on his scalp?" Jasi asked.
"No match to any identifiable weapon." He paused as something in the report caught his eye. "Well, this is interesting. Someone called Monty Winkler at his home nearly every night for the past two weeks."
"Who?"
"Don't know. They used a payphone. Same one every time." He leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting across the room. "When we're done here, we'll have a talk with Marilyn Winkler. Actually, you can ask the questions. She might open up more to a woman."
He froze when his gaze fastened on something.
Or someone.
A tall, slender woman dressed entirely in black was making her way across the floor. Her hair was short, blue-black and messy, as if she'd just woken up. Her lips were painted a deep crimson―too much lipstick for his liking―but she was drop-dead gorgeous. And she knew it.
The black knit sweater with its low v-neck showed off all her curves. She had a lot of them. Her entrance didn't go unnoticed by the various diners seated in the coffee shop. Every man in the room was practically salivating as she passed by.
"Jesus, she's starting early," he muttered.
Jasi followed his gaze. "I saw her in the washroom."
His mouth curled in distaste. If there was one thing he had zero tolerance for, it was hookers or 'legal escorts.' He thought they spelled trouble. With a capital 'T.'
As the escort approached, he noticed her eyes. They were a deep sapphire blue framed by thick black lashes. When her gaze swept over their table, her eyes locked on Jasi and there was a flicker of recognition and what seemed like…surprise.
That's odd, he thought.
The woman wiped her hands on her thighs and moved toward them, chin held high. Every set of male eyes trailed after her.
"Ben!" Jasi whispered. "Did you hire someone?"
"Hire someone for what?"
"For some…you know." She jerked her head in the woman's direction. "She's heading straight for you."
"I don't know what she's thinking."
The escort paused a few feet away, suddenly seeming unsure. She watched them for a moment, gave a subtle nod and strode to the table.
"Are you Benjamin Roberts?"
Annoyed, he set aside the data-com. "Obviously there's been a mistake. As you should be able to see, I'm already with someone. You'll have to find another mark." His eyes rested on her breasts. "One who's actually interested in all that you are so openly offering."
The woman's face turned bright red. "I'm afraid you've misunderstood. I'm not here to offer my…uh…self. At least not in the way you're suggesting."
Beside him, Jasi gasped. "Ben, I think she's―"
"What other way is there?" he interrupted.
Jasi dug her elbow into his side. "Ben!"
He ignored her and stared up at the intruder. "Well, off you go now. Run along." He gave her a mocking smile, hoping she'd take the hint.
She didn't. Instead, she flicked a cursory look around the room. People were staring.
What she did next drew a muffled curse from him.
She sat down.
"What the hell are you're doing?" he demanded.
"Following orders."
The woman leaned on one hip. The movement caused her sweater to pucker and all of a sudden Ben had a clear view of a lacy black bra barely restraining two very round breasts. He glanced away as she fished something out of her jeans pocket.
A shiny object landed on the table.
He gaped at the CFBI badge until comprehension set in.
"N-Natassia Prushenko, I take it." He felt like an idiot.
The woman raised a brow. "So you were told I was meeting you. I was starting to wonder." She turned to Jasi. "Is this how he greets all new team members?"
"Usually he's more civil. Not much more, mind you."
He cleared his throat. "We, uh, weren't expecting you until this afternoon, Agent Prushenko."
"Natassia. I took an earlier flight from Quebec City."
"Ah, that's why I pegged you as French Canadian," Jasi said.
"Sorry, it slips out every now and then. I've obviously spent too much time there." Natassia held out a hand. "You must be Jasmine. I've heard so much about you. You too, Benjamin. Although, Matthew Divine told me you'd welcome me with open arms."
"Open arms?" He'd have to have a talk with Matthew.
Natassia smiled, flashing perfect teeth. "Well, I was expecting a slightly warmer welcome."
"And I was expecting someone who wasn't dressed so," he waved a hand toward her, "provocatively."
She gave him an innocent look. "Don't all Canadian women dress like this?"
"Not unless they're―"
"Going out," Jasi cut in. "Clubbing, maybe."
Suddenly, it hit him.
"You knew who she was all along. Didn't you, Jasi?"
"I knew as soon as she looked at you."
Natassia frowned.
"When you saw Ben's gloves, you nodded," Jasi explained. "Just briefly, mind you. But it was obvious you knew the importance of his gloves."
"I'll have to work on that."
Ben held out his hand. "I'll admit I was expecting someone more…"
"Russian?" Natassia shook his hand briefly, then shifted smoothly into a heavy accent. "You're wondering where my Russian accent has gone, da? I'm fluent in five languages. English, French, Spanish, Japanese and Russian." She looked directly at him. "Vy zhenaty?"
He was sure she'd just called him something nasty.
She switched to a perfect Canadian accent. "Oh, and I speak a bit of German, but not enough to fool anyone."
"Must come in handy," Jasi said in admiration.
"With a little help from a good makeup artist, I can pass for all five nationalities." Natassia fastened her gaze on him. "Looks can be deceiving, eh?"
Ben clamped his lips shut. The woman had made her point. And he didn't like that. She had firmly set him in his place, and at this particular moment, he wasn't exactly sure where that was.
"I'll do some background checks while you two visit Marilyn Winkler."
Jasi gave him a surprised look. "Don't you want to come too?"
"I'll go see her later."
He needed some time to assess the current situation.
And Natassia Prushenko.
The only way he could do that was if he distanced himself from her. For the good of the case, he told himself.
Natassia stared at him. "I'll need case details."
"What did Matthew tell you?" Jasi asked.
"He said a dead politician was found on the beach."
"The victim's name is Monty Winkler. He's an MLA."
"Any suspects?"
"Not yet," Jasi replied. "And no primary murder scene."
While she filled Natassia in on the details, Ben sipped his coffee. He tried to eat the last few fries, but they were tasteless and cold. His attention kept wandering―much to his dismay―to a gold cross that was playing hide and seek between black lace and flawless skin.
"A job interview, huh?" Jasi said to Natassia as they made their way to the elevator. They'd left Ben back in the coffee shop to sulk.
"It was the only thing I could think of saying."
"And what was that you said to him? Vy…"
"Vy zhenaty?" Natassia laughed. "I asked if he was married."
From the corner of her eye, Jasi peeked at her new partner. She was about to say something, warn the woman, but the elevator stopped at their floor.
"I still don't understand why you were so nervous to meet Ben," she said, swiping the hot
el key in the lock and making a mental note to get one for Natassia. "He's a great supervisor, very patient and not overly demanding."
"It wasn't Ben I was nervous about meeting."
Jasi was taken aback. "Me?" She laughed. "You've got to be kidding."
When they entered the room, Jasi spotted a red light flashing on the phone.
"Someone's left us a message," she said, curious.
She called down to the front desk. "I have a message?"
"There's a small package down here for you."
She frowned. "Who's it from?"
"It's from a Matthew Divine, at the CFBI."
"I'll be right down."
When Jasi returned to the room, she showed Natassia the small box she'd retrieved from the front desk.
"I have no idea why Matthew sent me this."
"What's inside?"
"I don't know. I haven't opened it yet."
Natassia smiled. "Is it your birthday or something?"
"No," she frowned. "Not for a couple of months."
The box was about the size of a triple pack of soap bars and the postal stamp had yesterday's date. When she opened the package, she found an envelope and a note from Matthew. As usual, he was a man of few words.
Jasi, someone sent this to you, so I'm forwarding it on.
She studied the envelope. Someone had carefully printed her name in block letters. That was it, nothing else.
Who sent this?
She'd have to ask Matthew later.
"Well, aren't you going to open it?" Natassia asked.
She did just that and a lighter slid into the palm of her hand. She showed it to Natassia. "Just what I need."
"I take it you don't smoke?"
Jasi made a face. "No, and I sure hope you don't."
"I only have healthy vices. So who's the lighter from?"
Jasi shook her head slowly. "I haven't got a clue." She stuffed the lighter in her purse, then looked at her partner's tote bag. "Aren't you going to unpack?"
"I'm thinking I should get my own room," Natassia said.
Jasi blinked, stunned. "You don't like sharing?"
"Not at all. I just thought…"
"What? Have I grown two heads?"
"No," Natassia said with a sigh. "Jasi, you're the only Level 1 PSI I know. Besides me. And you're team leader. That makes you very important."
With a derisive snort, Jasi said, "All PSIs are important."
"You know what I mean."
"Listen, I don't care who is what rank. It's easier if we share. I can pick your brain and you can pick mine."
Natassia relaxed and settled into a chair. "Fine. I wanted to give you the option."
Jasi gave her a wary look. "Why? Do you snore?"
Natassia laughed. "I don't think so."
"You better not."
With the mood lightened, Jasi hung up her jacket and dug her favorite long t-shirt from her bag.
"So…" Natassia drawled, watching her. "You're a Pyro-Psychic, huh? I've met a couple in Russia. Is there anything I need to know?"
"I carry OxyBlast with me."
Natassia nodded. "Do you pass out?"
"Not if I'm careful. I usually wear an oxy-mask if the scene is fresh or if there's a lot of smoke. If you're with me and there's smoke, keep an eye on me. What about you?"
"At times I need a reality line. Depends on the victim."
Jasi studied Natassia carefully. Victim Empaths were known to get deeply entranced by victim's memories. It was an ugly business. Most VEs could read only live victims. Level 1s could read live and dead.
What is it like to feel what a victim feels, feel their fear?
"Let's get caught up on the case," she said. "Matthew sent over the missing persons report that Winkler's wife filed with the local PD. Tomorrow we'll pay her a visit. After that I'll take you to OFU."
"OFU?"
"Ottawa Forensics Unit. The morgue."
"Nothing like a little sightseeing in a new city."
Jasi settled on the bed and combed through Winkler's file on her data-com. As she did so, she thought of Ben's bizarre reaction to their new partner. Sure, Natassia dressed a bit provocatively, but that could be an advantage. Especially during interrogations.
A movement caught her eye. What is she doing?
Natassia was frisking the other bed, looking under the covers and pillows. With a scowl, she got down on her knees and checked under the bed.
"What in God's name are you looking for?" Jasi asked.
"They usually leave chocolates on the bed. I thought maybe mine had fallen on the floor. Did you see any?"
Jasi tried not to look at the wastebasket.
"Nope. Housekeeping must've missed our room."
7
Winkler Manor was located northeast of downtown Ottawa in Rockcliffe Park, a neighborhood that was reserved for the very wealthy and for government officials, including the Governor General and the Prime Minister of Canada. Generations of money had been pumped into the area by various ambassadors, computer software companies, Internet entrepreneurs and more than a few politicians.
It had been a few years since Jasi had driven through this area. Things had changed. A year ago, the former Canadian Forces Base CFB Rockcliffe had added a new expansion to Rockcliffe Park. Some of the existing buildings had been converted for other uses. Many had been demolished so that new homes could be built. The Winkler's lived in the original area, in an older estate home.
Grateful for the SUV's state-of-the-art GPS system, Jasi slowed the vehicle so they could take in the gated mansions that nestled in the trees. Somewhere behind them were endless immaculate lawns, azure swimming pools, extra-large hot tubs, outdoor bars and tennis courts.
"Welcome to Ottawa's version of 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous,'" Natassia said in a British accent. "I'm your host, Robin Leach."
Jasi grinned. "Champagne wishes…"
"And caviar dreams," they said in unison, laughing.
"I think caviar is disgusting," Jasi said, making a face.
Natassia released a contented sigh. "Caviar and sushi. Two of the four food groups. Or they should be. You don't know what you're missing."
"I'll live just fine without sludge in a tin. Give me a charbroiled steak any day."
Jasi maneuvered the SUV along the perfectly paved main road, then turned down a secondary street lined with pruned black willow, red maple and hundred-year-old hackberry trees, and assorted trimmed bushes, no doubt the responsibility of an expensive lawn care service. In Rockcliffe, the lack of sidewalks stood out. People liked their privacy at Rockcliffe Park. They expected it.
She slowed the car in front of two brick pillars. There were rough iron gates on either side. An ornate wooden plaque was centered on the pillar on the right side.
Winkler Manor, it proclaimed in a floral scroll.
"That's odd," she said.
"What is?"
"Most people in this neighborhood keep their gates closed."
The Winkler's gate was wide open.
Natassia frowned. "Did you call Marilyn Winkler to let her know we were coming?"
"Nope. I prefer the element of surprise."
"It looks like she's expecting someone."
"I wonder who."
Jasi turned down the long driveway and was silent for a moment, taking in the rich green lawn and colorful flowerbeds. She envied people with yards like this. She couldn't keep a houseplant alive for more than a month.
"Matthew said you're training for the position of team leader," Natassia said hesitantly.
"Uh, yeah. They think I'm ready."
"What do you think?"
"I know I'm ready. Ben's been drilling me for over a month."
"You're lucky to have someone who believes in you the way he does."
"I know." She studied her new partner. "So, how shall we do this?"
"I'll follow your lead."
Well, Natassia was certainly accommodating.
"Sinc
e Marilyn is a victim of sorts, can you read her?"
Natassia shrugged. "I do better with people who have directly experienced a violent crime. I feel the energy from their trauma."
"So you probably won't get anything from her then."
"I doubt it."
The scenery suddenly flared open and an impressive coffee and cream brick house, roughly five thousand square feet, lay before them. Owning the land with its grandeur, Winkler Manor resembled a medieval castle with two towering turrets and a peaked roof. An oversized balcony looked down over the driveway.
Natassia whistled. "That's some house."
Jasi couldn't agree more.
The driveway circled around in front of the estate, with a three-car garage forking off the main curve. A one-lane paved road continued past the garage and disappeared between the bushes. Parked in front of two garage doors were a silver Sebring and a blue Cadillac.
"The Winklers like their toys," Jasi observed.
They climbed out of the SUV.
Flat slabs of beige and gray stone carved a sidewalk to a porch with two white columns that framed arched double doors inlaid with etched glass panes.
"Custom built," Jasi determined.
Natassia nodded. "There's some serious money here."
Jasi found the doorbell and pressed it. They were rewarded with a familiar waltz tune that played inside and out. Mid-tune, one of the heavy doors opened, the archway appearing even larger as it dwarfed a bone-thin bald man in a disheveled burgundy suit.
Wordlessly, he glowered at them with cold eyes.
Jasi glared back. Why is he so annoyed?
"We're here to see Mrs. Winkler."
The man squinted at her badge. Without a word, he turned away, leaving the door ajar.
Natassia gave her a questioning look.
"Good help is so hard to find," Jasi quipped.
Inside, they followed the clicking of the man's dress shoes. The scent of roses lingered in the air as he led them across a marble floor and into a carpeted sitting room decorated in pale shades of lavender and pink. Pink roses in crystal vases graced every surface, along with potted African violets of various shades. A quick once-over of the room told Jasi that it was rarely used by anyone other than the lady of the house.
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