Divine Justice

by Cheryl Kaye Tardif

The woman was hinting at something. Damn. The last thing he needed was a partner who was interested in him. Not that Natassia Prushenko wasn't particularly charming at times.

  While Natassia called Matthew to apprise them of their new leads, he quickly dialed the Sampson residence. No one picked up, so he left a message.

  "Call me as soon as you get this," he said before he hung up.

  His fingers caressed the plastic bag containing the CD. The butterflies on the label glinted as he turned the disk toward the light. Metallic paint on a clean white label. No distinguishable markings other than the name of the CD and the company name.

  He searched for Mind Over Matter Productions. There were two website links. One was a film company based in California; the other was the site of a self-help author, Maud Abrams. There were no CDs listed on either site or anything else to suggest the CD had come from either source.

  He tried just Mind Over Matter. Thousands of entries came up. He perused the first five pages, then gave up when nothing substantial jumped out at him.

  So who made the CD? A company or a person?

  Natassia's data-com beeped.

  "It's Jasi," she told Ben.

  "Put it on speaker."

  Jasi's voice came across crystal clear.

  "We have a problem," she said.

  Ben's heart sunk. "What?"

  "The disk Winkler had is gone. And so is the case from Sampson's."

  "What do you mean, gone?" he demanded. "Did you ask the wives?"

  "That's the thing, Ben. Neither of them recalls seeing it. Ever."

  "Well, we saw it," Natassia said.

  A heavy sigh sounded from Jasi's end. "That means only one thing."

  "Someone else was in their homes," Natassia said.

  Ben nodded. "It also means that whatever's on those CDs could lead us to the killer."

  Jasi propped her chin up on one hand and stared cross-eyed at the computer monitor. It was no wonder that people hated politicians. Everything was so damned complicated.

  "I never realized how utterly boring politics is until now," she said with a groan. "Winkler's files are full of legal speak and policies I don't understand. Maybe you should have taken this task, Ben."

  "When I'm finished working up the perp profile, I'll take over so you can have a break."

  "Thanks."

  "Forty-six percent," Natassia muttered.

  Her assignment was to copy the hard drive from Sampson's work computer to Ben's laptop. And she was using the IHD to do it, much to Ben's dismay.

  "It's illegal to copy government hard drives," he said for the third time. "Not without a court order."

  "We don't have the luxury of waiting around for court orders," Jasi reminded him. "If this helps us find Winkler's murderer and Sampson's kidnapper, then case solved."

  Natassia smiled. "Besides, Matthew has friends in high places."

  Jasi continued searching the files on Winkler's laptop.

  "Wait a minute," she said finally. "Winkler was working on amendments to at least three bills. He has a draft copy against one bill, and another copy in favor of it. Looks like he couldn't make up his mind which way to go."

  "I noticed the same thing in Sampson's." Natassia said. "Maybe they were working on some of the same bills. Let's cross-reference them, see if something jumps out at us."

  Before Jasi could answer, her data-com beeped.

  "It's Zane," she said. "Probably with a quick report on his session with Porter Sampson." She moved toward the window for privacy.

  "Your guy never showed," Zane told her.

  "What?"

  "I thought you said he was okay with meeting with me."

  "He was. At least he said he was. Did you call him?"

  "Of course I did. He wasn't home."

  "Aw, damn. Sorry, Zane."

  "Don't worry about me, love. I'm more worried about this victim of yours. If he's in as rough a shape as you say, he probably shouldn't be out and about. Let's try to reschedule."

  Jasi checked her watch. "You waited for him for over two hours, Zane. That's more than I'd expect."

  "I had some spare time, and I thought he was running late. He is an important man, after all."

  "Well, thank you and I'm sorry we wasted your time."

  "Having an excuse to talk to you is never a waste of time. I'll see you at dinner?"

  She took a deep breath. "I'll have to decline."

  "Come on, love. You gotta eat. I'll wait for you in the lounge."

  "Sorry, Zane. It was supposed to be a business dinner, to discuss Sampson's session. But since he never showed, we have nothing to discuss." She hung up before she could change her mind.

  Ben eyed her. "What's wrong, Jazz?"

  "We've got a slight problem."

  "How slight?"

  "Sampson never showed up for his session with Zane."

  "Shit," Ben said with a scowl. "I had a feeling he might bail."

  "Did Zane talk to him, find out why?" Natassia asked.

  Jasi shook her head. "Sampson wasn't home."

  "Sounds like he's avoiding us," Ben said.

  "Or he doesn't want anyone to go poking around in his nightmares," Natassia suggested.

  Jasi switched mental gears. "Have you got a profile constructed, Ben? I know there's not much to go on yet, but we need to have some idea of who we're looking for."

  "Our perp is most probably male, between the ages of 35 and 50, in good physical shape, intelligent and well educated. He poses as a friendly guy and is perceived to be non-threatening. Neither Winkler nor Sampson had defensive wounds, so they either knew the perp or felt they could trust him."

  "That's how he was able to drug them," Natassia said.

  Ben nodded. "Exactly. And since our perp singled out two politicians, he's someone who had a beef with them personally or with what they stood for."

  "But why did he let Sampson go?"

  "I don't know."

  Jasi mulled over this for a few moments.

  "He held Winkler for a couple of days then killed him in a brutal fashion. Then he abducts Sampson and holds him for a few days and releases him. Why didn't he kill him too?"

  "Maybe he got what he wanted from Sampson," Natassia said.

  "What do you think he wanted?" Jasi asked her.

  "That's the question of the day."

  "His specific goal is undetermined at this time," Ben said, "Based on the method he used to murder Monty Winkler, I believe he knew the victim personally and was compelled to kill Winkler because of revenge or personal gain."

  "But what could he possibly gain?"

  "Whatever it is, it has to be something huge," Natassia said.

  Jasi nodded. "We have to keep looking for connections between Winkler and Sampson."

  She knew they were on the right track. They were closing in on a link that connected both men. She had to figure it out before another politician ended up dead.

  "Ready to cross-reference?" Natassia asked.

  "Sure. What have you got?"

  "Bill 7A."

  "Nothing here by that name."

  "What about Bill 35?"

  "Nope."

  "Bill 12CF."

  "Yes!" Jasi clicked on the file but it wouldn't open. "It's password protected."

  "Same here."

  "Damn."

  "Not to worry, Jasi. We do know something."

  "What?"

  "Any bill number followed by a 'CF' designates a highly confidential proposal, one that's related to the CFBI."

  Jasi gaped at her. "And you know this because…?"

  "I've, uh, hacked into the CFBI database in the past."

  Jasi covered her ears. "I never heard that."

  "Neither did I," Ben said dryly.

  Natassia logged onto the Internet and accessed the CFBI's database. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she gazed intently at the monitor. "I'm in. It'll take a second to find the file." She paused and bit her lip. "That's odd."

  "Wh
at?" Jasi asked

  "There's no record of a file by that name."

  "Then it's a proposal," Ben said. "One that never made it to legislature."

  "Now what do we do?" Natassia asked. "This is the first solid connection we've had between the victims."

  Ben paced the floor. "If Winkler was killed because of his position on this bill, and Sampson was kidnapped for the same reason, then we need to find out what they were working on."

  "And we need to find out what it has to do with the CFBI," Jasi added.

  She felt a tingle of excitement course through her body and a surge of energy that she only felt when she was getting close. She thought of the perp. He was conniving and ruthless, and if he was interfering with government policy then he had power in his hands. The kind of power that could destroy a country. He needed to be put down, like a rabid dog, before he hurt anyone else.

  We're coming for you.

  She rubbed her tired eyes. If she kept staring at the monitor she'd have to make an appointment with the ophthalmologist for a set of glasses. Or pay a visit to a SEE clinic and have her eyes permanently set to magnify. Hell, she might as well get them color-enhanced too.

  She glanced at Natassia and wondered for the millionth time if her partner had taken advantage of the new technology to enhance the brilliant blue of her eyes. They certainly didn't look natural. Neither did her over-sized breasts, but Jasi sure as hell wasn't going to say anything.

  "I'm tired," she complained. "The two of you may be fine with hovering over these computers all day, but I need to move around, do something."

  Natassia grinned. "Be careful what you wish for."

  "What I wish for," she said stubbornly, "is a freaking break on this case."

  Ben glanced up. "I think that's what we all need."

  His data-com beeped.

  "We have another body," Matthew said.

  Jasi immediately jumped to her feet, strapped on her shoulder harness and grabbed one of three backpacks that were ready by the door. Natassia and Ben were right behind her.

  "Where's the crime scene?" she asked Matthew.

  "Not far from where Winkler's body was found."

  This surprised her. It was a bold move by the killer.

  "Any ID on the body yet?" she asked.

  "No. Emergency crews just got there. It's not pretty."

  Death never is, she thought.

  25

  On the way to the crime scene, Matthew filled them in.

  "Four teens in a speedboat saw the fire from the river. They figured someone was having a bonfire party on the shore, and like typical teens, they decided to crash the party."

  "I bet that's the last time they do that," Jasi mumbled.

  "They found an unattended fire, so they tried to douse it. That's when they found the body. Or what's left of it."

  The trees began to thin and a glimmer of water danced between the branches.

  "We're getting close," she said.

  Smoke hung in the air, cloaking the trees as Ben steered the SUV down a dirt road, past a fire truck. Even the flashing lights on the four police cars blocking the road had trouble breaking through the smoky fog. A couple of officers hovered near an ambulance.

  Natassia sighed. "It must be bad."

  Jasi grabbed a small cylinder from her backpack and inhaled a deep breath of Oxyblast, while Ben slowed the vehicle and rolled down the window.

  A female police officer approached, one hand lightly resting on her gun. "ID, please."

  Ben held up his badge. The officer nodded, then signaled two of the cars to move.

  "What can I do to help?" Natassia asked.

  "You can get out the marshmallows," Jasi muttered.

  When she caught sight of Natassia's flustered expression, she smiled grimly. "I'm joking. Just follow me and record anything you see, anything I say. Sometimes it's hazy afterward."

  Natassia glanced around. "I'll do a victim reading when the body is at the morgue. There are too many people here for me to concentrate."

  "I'm sure the body will wait for you."

  "I'll get the X-Disc ready," Ben said.

  Jasi took a fortifying breath, lowered an Oxy-Mask over her face and stepped out of the SUV. Her gaze quickly surveyed the area. Two girls, maybe sixteen, sat in the back of the ambulance, the shock of what they'd witnessed worn on their pale faces like identical stone masks. Their movements were slow, zombie-like.

  Jasi shook her head. Poor kids.

  On the river bank she followed the billowing smoke. Even at a distance, she could see that the fire had been a big one. The perp had carefully contained the raging flames by placing large river rocks around the base of the pit. A small cairn of stones was stacked a few feet away, in honor of the victim. But whoever had died here hadn't been honored. It was murder, pure and simple.

  "It's Shake 'N Bake time," she murmured.

  With Natassia trailing a few steps behind, she moved toward the pile of smoking wood, toward the nameless corpse. There wasn't much left of the body. Someone had made sure of that. All that remained besides the smoldering waterlogged wood and ash were the blackened bones and skull that was once a living, breathing human being.

  Someone's son or daughter.

  She inhaled deeply, and with a nod to Natassia, removed the mask. The pungent odor of burnt human remains hit her hard.

  Focus on your breathing.

  "Record on," she heard Natassia say behind her.

  The ground shifted.

  Breathe.

  In the blink of an eye, she was in a murderer's mind, hearing every thought, watching every move, and speaking a ruthless killer's words in her own voice.

  "Come on in," said the spider to the fly.

  A man filled the doorway and shadows danced over his already dark skin. Stepping forward into the dim light, Porter Sampson's face was a mask of calm submissiveness.

  "I came as soon as I got your call," he said.

  "Very good," I said, taking in my most recent unsuccessful project.

  I glanced at the kitchen counter behind me. A bottle of whisky and two glasses waited for the party to begin. Then my gaze turned back to the man before me. "Did you bring it?"

  He nodded and handed me a thick envelope.

  "Sit down," I told him, placing the envelope on the table. "Have a drink with me."

  Porter sat down.

  That was a good sign. Maybe he could be salvaged after all. I'd need to test his loyalties first.

  I poured two fingers of whiskey into a glass and offered it to him. When he hesitated, I scowled. "Drink it."

  His hand reached out, pausing barely a half inch from the glass. With a gasp, he hastily pulled it back and shoved it into his jacket pocket. "I-I don't drink alcohol. You know that."

  I shrugged. "Justice is blind."

  Immediately, he removed his hand from his pocket, but kept both hands beneath the table.

  "Drink it, Porter."

  "Yes." He took the glass and raised it to his lips.

  I held my breath. Maybe I wouldn't have to kill him after all.

  The glass trembled in his hand.

  "Go ahead," I said, gritting my teeth.

  "I can't!" He slammed the glass on the table. Amber liquid splashed over the side of the glass.

  We both stared at the puddle on the table.

  "Shit," I muttered under my breath.

  I resisted the urge to slam my fist into his face. His defiance was proving to be a major problem. Like Winkler.

  He watched me, afraid to move, afraid to speak.

  Good. He should be afraid.

  "I'll get you a cola then," I said, rising.

  With my back to him, I poured soda into a clean glass. With a sigh of resignation, I reached for a small vial tucked behind the napkin holder and added the clear, odorless liquid to his drink. With some regret, I turned, smiled and handed him the glass.

  I poured two fingers of amber fire in the other glass and raised it in salute. "To
justice."

  Porter Sampson took a long drink of cola and I tossed back the whiskey. The warm burn infused my body instantly, as if I'd been washed clean. I felt no guilt in what I was about to do. The man had determined his own fate by refusing to do what I told him.

  "You're no longer useful to me, Porter."

  He watched me in confusion. Then he blinked and his head jerked. I could sense he knew what would happen next. I saw it in his eyes as his head hit the table with a thud.

  "It's time."

  Porter Sampson lay next to a gas can on the rocky shoreline. He was fully dressed and motionless, except for his dark eyes. They fluttered and fought for control of his voice and body.

  "If only you had listened." In the dark, I waved the weapon in my hand. "Why couldn't you have done what you were told?"

  He stared up at me, helpless as a baby.

  Rage engulfed me. "You're useless!"

  Recalling my own personal humiliation, I mercilessly hammered at his head. The skull shifted and cracked beneath the pressure. I had no idea how many times I hit him. I never count.

  Finally, I stood over his motionless body. Blood pooled beneath his head and spattered his face. Panting heavily, I grabbed the gas can and completely doused his barely conscious body. Then I set the can between his legs.

  "No evidence," I muttered.

  I gazed at the Ottawa River. In the distance, tiny lights blinked like sleepy stars on the water's surface. I had no fear of the boat lights. They were too far out to see anything.

  I glanced at the boat tied to the dock. It was too dark to make out anything except a shadowy hulk.

  "I wish it hadn't come to this," I said, my voice laced with regret.

  I lit a long match and tossed it on Sampson's chest. Flames immediately slithered over his body. Staring into his glazed eyes, I saw him blink furiously.

  The bastard was still alive.

  I grinned.

  Fire licked at his clothing, turning them to feathery ash within seconds. I saw his skin pucker and blister, and the air was filled with the scent of burning flesh and gasoline.

  "No hard feelings, mate."

  As I made my way to the boat, a waft of thick smoke hit me. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. I breathed in the acrid air and gasped.