Authors: Cheryl Kaye Tardif
The other thing Ben discovered was that Porter Sampson was a consummate list maker. He had dozens of lists posted throughout his office. Lists of books to read, research lists, lists of friends and associates and to-do lists.
"He probably has a list for making lists," he muttered as he returned a laundry list to Sampson's desk.
The evidence team had already been through Sampson's home office and the one here on Parliament Hill. The CFBI had processed fingerprints, trace evidence and phone call logs from his cell phone, home and office. Other than the one payphone call to his cell phone, nothing stood out as being suspicious.
"The only thing suspicious in here," he said, "is the guy's taste in music. New age stuff."
He idly fingered a CD that had been in the small stereo on a shelf by the door. He was about to set it down when the logo on the disc made him hesitate. He studied it. Three multicolored butterflies glimmered on the label, one with wings partially folded as it exited a cocoon.
Why does this seem so familiar?
Something niggled at the back of his mind.
His data-com beeped and he dropped the disc onto the shelf. "Hey, did you find anything?"
"Someone hacked into Winkler's computer," Jasi said.
When she told him that a file had been accessed, Ben knew they were closing in on something important.
"Wait a minute," he said. "How did you get into his computer? Didn't you need a password?"
There was a brief pause before Jasi answered.
"Natassia has an IHD."
"How the hell did she get hold of an Investigative Hacking Device? They're not even legal."
"Don't ask, Ben. But now we know about that file."
He let out a sigh. He'd have to talk to Natassia later.
"Well, I've got nothing here." He was about to hang up when he glimpsed the CD. "Wait! Jasi, you still there?"
"What's up?"
"I found something here that's been bothering me."
"What's that?"
"It's probably nothing, but I keep thinking it means something." He picked up the CD again.
On the other end, Jasi let out a little huff. "Spit it out, Ben."
"I found a CD with butterflies on the label. Does that ring a bell?"
"
Relaxation for the Soul
?"
"Exactly."
"
We found a CD like that in Winkler's home office."
He sucked in a breath, suddenly recalling Natassia's comment about Winkler liking butterfly music.
"I think I saw the case for this one at Sampson's home," he said. "I didn't pay much attention to it at the time."
"What do you think the odds are that two men from different backgrounds and cultures would be listening to the same CD?" Jasi asked.
"Slim to none. This CD directly connects Monty Winkler to Porter Sampson. We need to find out where they got it from."
"It's our first real break, Ben. I'll take a cab to Winkler Manor and pick up the other CD. Then I'll swing by Porter Sampson's and grab the case. You and Natassia should head back to the hotel and have the CD analyzed for prints."
"I'll have Matthew assign a tech to find out everything about," he glanced at the disc label, "Mind Over Matter Productions. Then I'll call Porter Sampson and ask him about that file and the CD."
At 1:30, Ben pulled into the underground parking at the hotel. He parked the SUV in a stall close to the elevator.
Natassia waved the plastic bag containing the CD in the air.
"Your room or mine?"
He swallowed hard, avoiding her gaze. Was her question completely innocent, or did she realize how suggestive it sounded?
"Ben?"
"Uh, mine."
She stretched and gave him a smile. "Lead the way."
In the elevator, he tried to ignore the arousing scent of sandalwood that seemed to cling to his partner like a second skin. He stabbed at the floor number and let out a relieved breath when they reached their floor.
Inside his room, Natassia dropped her purse on the floor and kicked off her shoes. As she moved toward the far bed where he'd left his tote bag open, she said, "You haven't unpacked."
"I never do," he said, pushing past her and zipping the bag shut. "I like to be ready to move at all times."
"Sounds like you're running away from something."
He glanced at his watch. "Sampson should be in the middle of his session with Zane right about now."
"Do you think Jasi's friend will be helpful?"
"No, I think he's going to be a pest," he said dryly. "But who knows?"
"You really don't like the guy, do you?"
"Why don't you call Matthew?" he suggested, ignoring her question. "Let him know we'll express the CD to him first thing in the morning."
"Will do."
While Natassia was distracted by whatever was on the computer monitor, he studied her. She'd proven to be smart, tough and damned sexy. It was the latter quality that bothered him.
Natassia's head jerked up. "Is something wrong?"
Add perceptive to the list.
"No. Why do you ask?"
"You seem uncomfortable around me. Is it that you didn't want another partner, or that you like having the one you've got?"
"Honestly? A bit of both."
Natassia grinned. "Gee, don't sugarcoat it or anything."
"Sorry. Jasmine tells me I'm too blunt."
Her gaze was intensely direct. "I appreciate bluntness. I like to know where I stand. With everyone."
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."