Children of the Fog

by Cheryl Kaye Tardif

  Without missing a beat, Divine answered, "Shortly after four o'clock this morning an anonymous caller reported a cabin fire near the lake. Fire fighters were sent to the area, and ten minutes later, the Kelowna PD arrived and secured the scene."

  Jasi's eyes locked on Divine's. "How secure?"

  Divine flipped to an aerial photo, revealing neon orange perimeter beacons that surrounded the crime scene.

  "Kelowna PD has guaranteed that there has been no contamination of evidence—other than water, of course. The fire was almost out by the time the trucks got there."

  Ben cleared his throat loudly. "We've heard that before. How'd they know there was a body?"

  "Kelowna PD used an X-Disc," Divine explained. "As you are all aware, very few departments outside of Vancouver and the major cities have access to X-Discs. And our PSI division is the only unit to have the Pro version. Kelowna PD has one of the original prototypes."

  "What's the estimated time of death?" Ben asked.

  "TOD is between one and two this morning."

  The wall photo switched to a black and white of the esteemed Dr. Washburn. The man had posed for the hospital staff photo as if it were a painful experience, his brow pinched in a wrinkled scowl. His receding white hair looked wiry and stubborn.

  Like the man himself, Jasi thought.

  She had met Dr. Washburn a couple of years ago during a symposium on children's health. The man had not impressed her. There was something about him she didn't like, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

  Divine turned to Natassia. "Forensics came back as a positive on Washburn. His dental scans matched. I'll need you to dig deep on this one, Agent Prushenko."

  Jasi saw Natassia's head dip in agreement.

  "We need any information pertaining to the victim. His life, his career—everything," Divine said.

  Jasi rubbed her chin. "If this is his second fire, then what's the connection between the victims? What can you tell us about the Victoria fire?"

  Divine's data-com beeped suddenly.

  He examined it, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, Agent McLellan. I have a meeting with the Premier in half an hour. You'll have to upload that info into your data-communicators." He walked to the door, then paused. "The sooner you pick up your supplies, the sooner you can get your team moving. I need you at the Kelowna crime scene A-SAP. Allan Baker's going to want some answers—fast."

  Divine held her gaze. "Get me some."

  Then he left.

  Jasi plugged her data-com into the Ops mainframe and began reading aloud while the computer uploaded to her portable. "Case H081A. Two victim's. Charlotte Foreman, sixty-three, and Samantha Davis…four years old."

  Poor baby.

  Her voice faltered slightly. "TOD is 9:05 p.m. on Charlotte Foreman. She was pronounced in the hospital. The child died shortly before. Smoke inhalation."

  "Who called it in?" Ben asked.

  "A neighbor. When the fire department got there the rain had already extinguished the fire. Victoria PD exhausted their leads. The case was cold. Until now."

  Her eyes gleamed with determination.

  "So we have jurisdiction over both fires, now that it's a serial arson case."

  For the next half-hour, Jasi examined the evidence, including the fire investigator's statements and forensic reports on the two bodies found at the scene in Victoria. There wasn't much to go on. A cable truck would warrant investigating but other than that, no one in the neighborhood remembered seeing anything remotely suspicious.

  "Let's start with Washburn and work backward," Ben suggested. "I'll call ahead, Jasi, and make sure that everything's ready for you in Kelowna."

  He disappeared down the hall.

  Meanwhile, Natassia continued flicking through the wall photos of the Washburn murder.

  "See anything?" Jasi asked her, moving beside the dark-haired woman for a closer look.

  Natassia pointed to the close-up of a strange melted mass of plastic. "There's a few possibilities. The X-Disc found IV tubing. Washburn was secured to his recliner with it. Funny thing, though. The recliner was fully extended."

  Jasi chewed on her bottom lip, wondering why someone would bother to recline the chair…or use plastic IV tubing.

  Wouldn't a rope have been better? And how did the arsonist get possession of the tubing?

  "Back in a sec, Natassia. I have to get my pack."

  She walked down a narrow corridor to a door marked PSI Prep Room. Swiping her ID card, she was buzzed inside. The room held a row of lockers lined against one wall.

  She inserted her card into the slot on locker J12.

  It beeped, then opened.

  Removing a hefty black backpack, she silently cursed its necessary weight. She placed the bag on a metal table in the middle of the room and kicked the door to her locker shut. The zipper to the main compartment of the bag jammed. Frustrated, she tugged at it until it finally opened, revealing two thin flashlights, evidence markers, a piece of florescent chalk and other field supplies.

  From a shelf above the lockers, she grabbed the last can of OxyBlast and shoved it inside the bag. Satisfied, she closed the backpack, heaving it over her shoulder.

  Then she returned to Command.

  "Okay, ladies, we better get moving," Ben suggested, poking his head through the doorway.

  "Ladies?" Natassia asked with a laugh. "Jasi, did Agent Roberts just call us 'ladies'?"

  "Well, one of you certainly doesn't fit that description," Ben grumbled under his breath.

  "Come on, Natassia," Jasi said with a snort. "Focus."

  "I am focussing."

  Watching her, Jasi chuckled. She couldn't help but admire Natassia Prushenko. Not only was the woman gorgeous, she had self-confidence up the ying-yang.

  Natassia was a Russian immigrant. In some ways, she was a trade from the Russian government in return for favors from the PSI division. She spoke five languages and was the best VE Jasi had ever worked with.

  And Jasi had worked with a number of Victim Empaths over the years.

  Natassia had joined her team just over two months ago, during the Parliament Murders. Jasi had seen firsthand what her partner's skills could take out of her. A VE sometimes assimilated the emotions of the victim, to the point that it was almost impossible to separate—to come back to reality.

  "Happy Birthday, Jasi. Great way to be spending it, huh?" Natassia's grinning mouth snapped firmly shut when Jasi whipped her head around.

  "Okay, the chopper is ready," Ben announced.

  Covering their ears, they dashed across the tarmac. The four-blade rotor of an Ops helicopter sliced through the air, droning and choppy. The sound was deafening until the pilot handed each of them a headset.

  A few minutes later, they were onboard and gliding across the treetops.

  "We'll do the scene first," Jasi said, plugging her data-com into the outlet in front of her.

  Natassia nodded. "Okay. After that, I'll see if I can get a read off Washburn's remains. Maybe I'll get a hit. There's a good chance Washburn knew the perp."

  "I'll get the reports for both fires and make some calls to set up interviews," Ben said, removing his gloves. "Then I'll start my profile. So far, what do we have?"

  "A sick bastard who likes to set fires," Jasi murmured.

  "Yeah, we have that. Hey, are you going to be okay in Kelowna? Do you need anything special?"

  She handed him a short list. "Just this. I have everything else."

  Ben read the list quickly, then keyed in the request on his data-com.

  A few minutes later, his unit beeped a response.

  "Everything will be waiting for you, Jasi. Just see the Chief of Arson Investigation on-scene."

  She knew that her day would be long and grueling. She recalled the disaster that occurred years ago. A raging forest fire had swept over Okanagan Mountain, burning almost three hundred homes to the ground and destroying over twenty-five thousand hectares of natural forest.

 
As the private helicopter soared closer to the dreary crime scene, Jasi settled into the seat, pulled her long auburn hair up into a quick ponytail and closed her eyes. She would need to be alert and rested.

  Agent Jasi McLellan could already taste the bitter smoke in the air.

  And something more—death.

  3

  ~ Loon Lake near Kelowna, BC

  The helicopter deployed Jasi and her PSI team one mile from the fire. A fog of gray smoke greeted them. It hung in the air over the crime scene like a smothering electric blanket set on high. The scorching sun smiled down upon them, adding to the heat.

  Fire trucks were parked on the side of a grassy field surrounded by thick trees and weedy underbrush. An oversized khaki-colored army tent had been pitched in the center of the field while an exhausted group of firefighters slept nearby in the shade. A variety of police vehicles slanted across the gravel road, blocking off public access.

  A tired, sooty police officer strolled toward them. "Hey, Ben."

  Ben grinned and introduced the man. "This is Sgt. Eric Jefferson, Kelowna PD."

  "How's it hangin', Ben?" Jefferson asked, after introductions were complete. "Are you supervising this case?"

  "Actually, I am," Jasi said, only slightly offended.

  Ben grimaced apologetically. "Eric and I trained at the VPA range together."

  The Vancouver Police Academy was highly regarded worldwide for its superior training of police officers. The academy owned acres of land outside the city limits. The rough terrain had been converted to a firearm training facility used by CFBI agents and police officers.

  There was also a separate area for the bomb squad.

  "A van's coming to get you," Jefferson said. "And someone'll be here any minute with the supplies you requested."

  "Where's the Chief of AI?" Jasi asked him.

  "Over by the tents, I think."

  Jefferson glanced over his shoulder at an approaching truck. "Your supplies are here."

  A police officer in his mid-forties, dressed in a fresh uniform, jumped from the truck. When he spotted them standing by the edge of the road his eyes narrowed. A firefighter wearing fire gear, minus the hat and mask, climbed from the passenger side carrying a bright red equipment bag. He had a stocky build and blond hair that was cut in a surfer style, long on the sides.

  The man reminded Jasi of an advertisement for steroids.

  She caught his eye and he aimed a withering look in her direction. Uh oh, she thought. Steroid-man wasn't happy to see them.

  "Detective Randall," Jefferson murmured, indicating the officer. "He's the lead on the Victoria case."

  "He was the lead," Jasi corrected him.

  She watched while Randall and the stocky firefighter lumbered closer. When the two men reached her, she held out a hand.

  "Agent McLellan, CFBI."

  The detective winced at her words. Then his hand crushed her fingers, challenging her to back down.

  Jasi squeezed harder until Randall let go.

  After introducing her team, she caught Randall fighting with Ben for alpha male status. Detective Randall lost. Tension sliced through the air, thick with male testosterone. She saw Ben wave Eric Jefferson aside.

  Jasi stole a glance at the firefighter.

  The man's head was turned slightly away. On the shoulder of his jacket, a blue firefighter's patch flapped loosely in the breeze. R. J. Scott, KFD, the patch read.

  "Have you got the supplies?" she asked him, feeling a shudder of pain behind her eyes.

  Scott dropped the red bag on the ground, crouched down and jerked the zipper open. "Right here."

  Her head began to pound. The smoke was invading her pores. She reached into her black backpack and extracted the can of OxyBlast. For half a minute, she sucked on the mouthpiece, inhaling pure oxygen and clearing her lungs.

  "The oxy-mask is in the bag," Scott muttered in a voice that was hoarse from breathing in too much smoke.

  When he brushed the hair from his eyes, she sucked in a puff of air. The left side of the man's face was scarred—a motley web of spidery burns.

  "Hazard of the job," he shrugged when he noticed her shocked expression.

  Detective Randall joined them. "You done here, Scott?"

  "Yeah," the firefighter grunted.

  Randall stared at Jasi and laughed rudely. "I don't know why she needs the mask."

  Scott scowled at her. "Yeah, it's as useless as tits on a bull—unless she's gonna go into a live fire."

  The men grinned at each other, then caught her eye.

  "Detective Randall," she said coldly. "There are many things that are useless on a bull."

  She allowed her eyes to slowly drift down past Randall's waist, locking in on his groin area. The man's face grew pinched, and then he muttered something indistinctly.

  She turned her back and reached into the bag, removing the familiar navy-blue mask. It had a built-in filtration system that eliminated air contamination, giving the wearer a clean source of oxygenated air. Small and lightweight, the oxy-mask fit securely over the nose and mouth.

  She drew it snugly over her head and adjusted her ponytail. Fighting back a feeling of claustrophobia, she took a deep breath.

  "I'm fine," she assured Natassia who was watching her intently. "The residue is bad out here."

  The oxy-mask muffled her voice.

  "It wasn't that big a fire," Scott huffed.

  "Not this fire. The Kelowna fire."

  The firefighter eyed her suspiciously.

  "What? That fire was years ago." The scarred side of his face stretched tautly and barely moved when he spoke.

  "Agent McLellan?" Ben called out, hurrying to her side with Sgt. Jefferson in tow. "Everything all right here?"

  "Everything's fine," she assured him.

  Her head swiveled and her eyes latched onto Detective Randall's. "Right?"

  The man flashed her a dangerous smile. "We don't need your help. Victoria PD is more than capable of handling—"

  Jasi threw the man a frigid glare.

  "This isn't a pissing contest, detective. The CFBI was called in and it's our case now. Both of them. And if you have a problem with that, then take it up with your supervisor."

  Outraged, Randall tipped his head toward Scott, then stomped back to the truck and sped away in an angry cloud of dust. Scott watched him go. A second later, he rasped a quick goodbye and headed for the field. Joining a small group of firefighters, he pointed in Jasi's direction and circled one finger beside his head.

  Crazy.

  Cursing under her breath, she spun around and looked Eric Jefferson directly in the eye.

  "What about you, Sgt. Jefferson? You have a problem with us being here?"

  The police officer smiled. "Whatever gets the job done, Agent McLellan. That's my motto. With a serial arsonist on the loose we can use all the help we can get."

  "Too bad those two don't feel the same way," Jasi growled, casting a shadowed look in Scott's direction.

  Jefferson glanced toward the field. "Scott's just a rookie with a big mouth. Randall, on the other hand, he's a hotshot. He needs the collar." He nudged his head in Detective Randall's direction. "It's guys like him you need to worry about…and maybe Chief Walsh."

  "I'll take care of the chief," she muttered. "As soon as I find the man."

  Jefferson elbowed Ben. "If Scott or Randall get in your way, you let me know. I'm the CS Supervisor."

  Jasi caught a brief nod then the man headed for a patrol car.

  "Good luck with the chief," Jefferson called over his shoulder.

  When the officer was gone, Ben removed two mini-cans of OxyBlast from the equipment bag and passed them to Natassia. Natassia tucked the cans into Jasi's backpack and pulled out a small protective nosepiece. She handed it to Jasi who carefully tucked it away in the top pocket of her black PSI jacket.

  "Thanks," Jasi smiled beneath the oxy-mask.

  She shoved her arms through the straps of her pack, shi
fting it slightly so the weight was balanced on her back.

  Natassia nudged her. "Let's find the AI Chief. He's supposed to be here somewhere. Then we can get a ride to the scene. Man, I'm starved! I could go for lunch right about now—maybe a nice marinated steak."

  Jasi grinned. "Yeah, with sautéed mushrooms."

  "Excuse me for interrupting your culinary exchange," Ben nudged dryly. "I'm going to talk to the police. You gonna move or stand there swapping recipes all day?"

  Laughing, Jasi adjusted her backpack while Natassia picked up the red bag. Then they headed toward a group of firefighters.

  Jasi noted their smoke-covered faces and sooty yellow fire jackets. The men were in the middle of a serious discussion and no one noticed their approach.

  "Excuse me, gentlemen," Natassia called out.

  The men stopped talking.

  Oh Jesus! They're gonna start drooling any minute.

  Jasi rolled her eyes when she saw the firefighters focus in on Natassia like a swarm of bees. One of the firefighters stepped forward, grinning unabashedly. The man's eyes slowly perused Natassia's body, then his ice blue eyes turned and rested on hers. One eyebrow lifted when he registered the mask she wore.

  She stiffened slightly, registering his obvious contempt.

  "Well, well. What have we here?" the man drawled sarcastically. "Uh, ma'am? The fire is out now. There's no need for that mask."

  The firefighter was over six feet tall—a lumbering, magnificent personification of man. He had eyelashes that most women would die for, and eyes that were such an unusual pale shade of blue that she wondered if he had visited a SEE office. A jagged scar intercepted his right brow, narrowly missing his eye. A slight cleft in his chin gave him an air of stubbornness. Dark wavy hair clung to his head and she couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to run her fingers through those curls.

  Jasi held his gaze while she examined him like a lab specimen in a jar. Built like a tank, she thought.

  "I think maybe you're a bit lost, ma'am," he said, his lip curling disdainfully.

  He turned toward the men, brushing her off like an annoying wasp at a barbecue.

  She stared at the back of his head and then flipped her badge. "That's Agent McLellan, not ma'am. Where's the chief?" Her voice was cool, her eyes unwavering.