Meanwhile, search teams spent days dragging the river and calculating currents so they could monitor the shores, but Zane's body was never found.
"How long have I been in here?" she asked weakly.
"A while."
She rubbed her head. "I keep thinking of the Parliament Murders. It's like it all happened yesterday."
"The doctor said you might feel a bit disoriented."
Disoriented? She felt like she'd just come off the damned boat. I swear I'm still rocking.
After they'd found her on the yacht, the Honorable Ravinder Sharma and Chief Justice Victor Cahill had been brought in for questioning. They were shocked when it was explained that they were victims of brainwashing. Sharma resisted the news and had to be forcibly removed from his position as MLA. Cahill was more reasonable. He stepped down from his position voluntarily when it was explained that he was compromised and putting the country at risk. It would take months to deprogram the two men, and even longer to find anyone else who'd been subjected to Zane's hypnosis and Deirdre's transmissions.
Darlene MacKenzie was brought in, and after further questioning, it was determined that although her VISA placed her at the bed and breakfast, she hadn't actually gone there. Without her knowledge, she'd been an innocent participant in Project Chrysalis.
Zane had planted the false memory of a quiet getaway to explain her absence. MacKenzie chose to step down, rather than risk being influenced by Zane's programming. She later sought out a therapist to help her cope with feelings of violation, something she described to be as traumatizing as rape.
Marilyn Winkler had received a hefty life insurance policy and was somewhere in the Caribbean enjoying a lengthy vacation. James had also left town, possibly for warmer waters.
But Zane and the Parliament Murders is a closed case.
"Do you remember the Gemini Murders?" Ben prodded.
Memories of the recent case came back in flashes. Child abuse and abortion had affected the lives of many, including Ronald Scott, Cameron, Washburn, Allan Baker…
Brandon.
"I remember," she said. "I was shot this time."
Ben grinned dryly. "Your first bullet wound."
"Lucky me." She frowned. "Do I have a scar?"
"A small one." He sucked in a breath. "Matthew is giving you two full weeks this time. He wants you to take a holiday."
After the Parliament Murders case was closed, she was given a promotion to team leader. Permanently. She wasn't happy about the news until Matthew told her that her new team comprised of Ben and Natassia. Their new Russian partner had requested a permanent transfer to the CFBI.
"Two weeks is what he gave me last time." She grinned. "I think I deserve three this time around."
"I'll see what I can do," Ben said.
"I thought I was out of the woods, going home. What happened?"
Ben straddled the chair by the bed. "An infection happened. It hit you in the middle of the night the day before you were going home."
"How long have I been out?"
"A week and a half."
She gasped. "Jesus! That long?"
He smiled. "You must like all the attention."
"Yeah, it's so much fun to be unconscious, dreaming about murder and wolves."
"Wolves?"
"Forget it. Long story."
She tried to sit up, but Ben reached out. "Stay still. At least until the doctor examines you."
"I want to sit up."
He glowered at her and she sank back into the pillow like a chastised child. "Yes, sir."
Natassia entered the room, followed by a doctor with a familiar face.
"Dr. Habib," Jasi said.
"I see you've finally decided to join us again, Agent McLellan."
The doctor checked her pulse, disconnected the monitors and examined the bullet wound. He wrapped a clean bandage around her arm, then jotted something down in her file.
Jasi eyed him nervously. "So what's the verdict, Doc?"
"Your stats are all good. The wound is healing nicely and I expect you'll make a full recovery."
"Hear that, Ben?" She gave him an overly sweet smile and shifted until she was sitting up. "Dr. Habib, I have one last question."
The man grinned. "Let me guess. You want to know when you can go home."
"Yes."
"I'd like to keep you here two more days. For observation. And I'd advise you take a few weeks off." He looked at Ben. "Can she do that?"
Ben nodded. "I'll make sure she does."
When the doctor left, she crossed her arms and scowled. "I'll only need a couple of days off."
Natassia cut in. "Take the time, Jasi."
"Doctor's orders," Ben added.
"But what am I supposed to do for two weeks?" she whined.
Natassia grinned. "Well, you could get together with that hunk who's been by your side almost every day."
"What hunk?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew. "Brandon Walsh?"
"Yup," Natassia replied.
"But he went back to Kelowna."
Ben leaned forward. "Don't get mad at us, but we called him."
"You what?"
"We told him you were in a coma," Ben explained. "He was on the next plane to Vancouver."
Jasi wasn't quite sure what to make of that. The last time she'd seen Brandon, she'd told him to leave. And he had. She'd been positive that she'd never see him again.
And now he's back?
A faint hope began to brew. She'd been too hasty. She should have realized after Zane that good men like Brandon don't come around often. She'd be a fool to let him go without at least trying to make things work.
But what if he doesn't want to? What if he's here out of pity?
Ben stood, stretched, and Natassia scooped up the empty chair.
"Brandon will be here in about a half hour," she said. "We sent him away so he could grab a bite to eat. Poor guy's hardly eaten a thing."
The poor guy stood in the doorway, a bouquet of pink roses in hand. The look in his eyes was a mix of yearning and apprehension.
"Well, don't just stand there, Brandon," she snapped.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, moving into the room.
"Like a train wreck, but don't let that stop you from giving me those flowers."
He glanced around the room and grabbed the only thing that could hold water. A bedpan. He took it into the bathroom and she heard the tap running. A minute later, he emerged and set the bedpan on the side table. The roses hung over the edge, their stems in the water.
"Sorry," he said. "It was the best I could do."
"You never asked if I just used that," she said wryly.
He grinned. "I see you have your sense of humor back. You haven't changed a bit."
"Should I have?"
His expression grew serious. "You were in a coma, Jasi. We were all worried that it would affect your memory."
"I remember just fine." She finally smiled. "It's amazing how something like a little coma can put everything in your life in perspective. I see a lot of things more clearly now."
Brandon sat down beside her. When he took her hand, she resisted the impulse to pull it back. This was the time to lay the cards on the table, not wimp out.
"Why are you here?" she asked in a quiet voice.
"Do you really have to ask?" He glanced down at their hands. "I never wanted us to end."
"I know. I pushed you away."
He heaved a sigh. "I've had a lot of time to think while I've been here. I realize that a long distance relationship isn't something you want. I don't think I want it either. But I do know one thing I want."
"What's that?"
His gaze captured hers. "You. In my life. Now."
"Then you have me," she said simply.
His eyes narrowed. "I'm not walking away this time."
"You'd better not," she warned.
He leaned forward, careful not to put pressure on her arm. "We'll figure this out,
make it work."
He kissed her then, and it was as if she'd been waiting for his lips all her life. The kiss was soft, loving, and full of promise.
"Yes, we will," she said with a sigh of contentment.
34
Sunday, July 8, 2012
~ Vancouver General Hospital, Vancouver, BC
This was it. The day Jasi got to go home. She was more than a little relieved. And a bit excited. Brandon was coming home with her. At least for the night.
Maybe a few.
She muffled a giggle as Dr. Habib entered the room with a clipboard in hand. His smile stretched from ear to ear.
"Well, that's a good sign," she said. "So?"
"We need you to sign this so you're good to go."
She hurriedly scribbled her name. She caught sight of a nurse pushing a wheelchair toward her. "Uh, what's that for?"
"It's hospital policy."
"But I'm fine. I don't need a wheelchair."
Dr. Habib tipped his head. "Hospital policy, Agent McLellan. You know how that works."
Before she could argue further, Ben entered the room and steered her by the shoulders toward the wheelchair.
"She'll take the ride," he said firmly. "Or she'll be staying another night."
"But Ben―"
"No buts." He glared at Jasi. And waited.
"Fine," she muttered.
She sat down in the wheelchair and kicked the footrests into position. Propping her bandaged arm on the armrest, she tried to ignore the throbbing pain.
Dr. Habib handed her a glass of water and two pills. "For the pain," he said.
"Any special instructions?" Ben asked him.
"Yeah, but I doubt she'll listen." The doctor chuckled.
"Hey!" Jasi waved a hand in the air. "I'm in the room, people. Right here."
Dr. Habib passed the clipboard to her. She signed the release form, added a happy face, then handed it back. The nurse and doctor left the room, and Jasi gave Ben an impatient look.
He laughed. "Time to escape from Alcatraz?"
"What time is it?"
Ben checked his watch. "Two-fifteen. Isn't Brandon supposed to be here?"
"He's late."
"When's he coming?"
Jasi shrugged. "I don't know. He isn't answering his cell phone. Maybe we could wait for him."
"Sorry, but we have to go now."
"Just a few more minutes," she pleaded.
"We can't, Jasi. I have a meeting with Matthew and Natassia later." He pushed the wheelchair toward the door. "Maybe Brandon's downstairs."
She grabbed onto that thin string of hope. "Maybe."
"Let's get you home," he said, steering the wheelchair toward the elevator.
"Did you come in my new car?"
The Mitsubishi Zen had been an unexpected bonus, a gift from Premier Allan Baker―for saving his life.
"Sorry," Ben said. "You'll have to make do with my old Mercedes."
When they reached lower level, an attendant at the information desk flagged them down.
"I was told to give this to you," the woman said, handing Jasi a folded sheet of paper.
Jasi opened it.
And her dreams went out the window. Again.
Jasi,
Sorry I didn't say goodbye. I didn't want to wake you.
I have to head back to Kelowna. I'll explain everything soon. Just give me a few days.
For now, trust me.
Yours, Brandon
"Trust him?" She crumpled the note in her hand. "He's got to be kidding." But even as she said this, she felt a pulling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She did trust Brandon. And that was foreign territory for her.
"Maybe you're being too hard on the guy," Ben said, shuffling his feet. "Why not trust him?"
"Maybe because the last guy I trusted drugged me and tried to kill me. Zane told me everything I wanted to hear. He used me. Then he tossed me away. Or tried to."
"Brandon wouldn't do that to you, Jazz."
She whirled around, her fist gripping the note. She stared Ben in the eye and said, "How do you know? Can you guarantee me that? Can you guarantee he won't rip my heart to shreds and leave me floundering?" She was panting now.
"There are no guarantees in life." His voice softened. "You know that. All you can do is trust and live every day to the fullest."
"Well, tell that to Mr. I'm-afraid-of-commitments."
"Did he say that?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it. "No, but―"
"But nothing, Jasi. You were the one who sent him away the first time. He came back though. That says something for the guy." He patted her arm. "And you're the one who's afraid of commitments."
She blinked back the tears. He was right.
"It's time, Jasi. Time to let go of the fear that's holding you back."
"But you know what happens when I get too close to someone. I'm not good for anything then. I can't even do my job."
"You said it was different with him."
"It is."
"Then stop looking for excuses not to be with him. Life's too short for that. You of all people should know that."
He was right. And they both knew it.
The drive home was tiring, but Jasi couldn't sleep, even though the dismal, overcast sky and pounding rain should have been conducive to at least a catnap. While Ben drove, Jasi gazed out the car window at the passing scenery.
Vancouver spread out before her like a lighted blanket of sounds, smells and movement, something alive and ready for action. Everything was so familiar, yet so different somehow. It was like she was seeing her city for the first time.
Her thoughts wandered to Zane Underhill. It wasn't easy to mourn him, again. Still, she'd put him to rest once. She could do it again.
Can't I?
She yearned for someone to ease her conscience.
Brandon's handsome face came to mind.
What did you really expect? A long term relationship?
She banished Brandon from her mind. He'd only done what she'd asked him to. Right?
When they arrived at her apartment building, she brushed aside all thoughts of Brandon. Suddenly, she wanted nothing other than to sleep for a week. In her own bed.
"Thanks, Ben," she said at the front door.
"Do you want me to come inside for a few minutes?"
She shook her head. "I'm fine. I just need to sleep."
Entering her loft, she dropped her purse on the floor and headed for the shower. She barked out the temperature and pressure settings, stripped, then stepped into the shower and leaned against the wall.
When she emerged a half hour later, she felt disinfected and sterilized. Sometimes it was hard to feel clean after a case; sometimes it was impossible. This time seemed even more impossible. She was dealing with memories of two cases―one just weeks ago and one from the past.
Naked, she shivered. "Welcome home, Jasi."
She crawled between the cool sheets, hugged her pillow and fell asleep on the first breath.
The dream started off as a warm, happy memory.
Jasi's mother stood at the kitchen sink and the sunlight glinted in her shoulder-length fiery hair. She was humming a tune along with the radio while washing the dishes by hand.
"Mommy?"
Her mother turned. "Yes, baby girl?"
Eight-year-old Jasmine smiled. Her mother was so beautiful.
"When's Poppa and Brady gonna be back?" she asked.
"Soon." Her mother swiped at a strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear. "It's beautiful outside, honey. Why don't you play in the backyard? Take some toys outside in the sun."
"But I want to stay with you. Maybe we could bake cookies together or watch Free Willy again."
"I-I can't, Jasmine. I'm expecting company in a bit. Business stuff."
Little Jasmine scowled. She studied her dirty runners and got angrier and angrier by the second. Mommy was always busy lately. Half the time she was busy with Brady, changing hi
s diapers and getting him his special food. And she was always going out and leaving Mrs. Gagnon from across the street in charge. Mrs. Gagnon smelled like old cheese.
Someone banged on the front door.
Her mother jumped. "Run along outside, baby girl."
"I'm not a baby."
"You'll always be my baby, Jasmine."
Her mother scurried down the hall toward the front door. Jasmine saw her leaning against the door. The look in her eyes was one of fear. This wasn't a welcome visitor.
"Go outside and play," her mother yelled at her.
Jasmine walked toward the sliding door that led outside. But then she did something she'd never done before. She disobeyed her mother.
She ducked into the closet near the bathroom. Leaning against Poppa's winter jacket, she took a deep breath and listened. She heard voices. Her mother and a man. He sounded really, really mad.
"Calista, this has gone on long enough. It's time."
"I can't," her mother said.
"For Christ's sake, what's it going to take?" the man yelled. "Where's the kid?"
"She's not here," her mother said.
Jasmine heard the man swear. He yelled something and her mother yelled back. She was crying.
Mommy?
She pressed her eyes to the door slats. A flash of mauve raced past. Her mother's slippers. Mommy always said never to run in the house. So why was she running?
"No!" her mother shrieked.
A bulky blur ran past the closet. It happened so fast that Jasmine didn't know it was the man until he stopped a few feet away, his face partially turned away. She couldn't make out his face. He wore a baseball cap pulled low over his brow.
"Cali!" the man growled. "Don't even think of running from me."
They were in the kitchen now. Jasmine heard the shattering of glass. Was her mother throwing dishes like she did sometimes when she was mad at Poppa?
Tears pooled in her eyes. That scared her too.
Don't cry.
A sharp bang echoed through the house.
She held her breath. She had to. The air smelled funny.
Finally, she reached out to push the closet door, but footsteps overhead made her pause. Someone was moving around upstairs. Doors opened and slammed.
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