Free Divine Intervention by Cheryl Kaye Tardif Page A

evidence, the rain would obliterate it.
    Without warning the taxi screeched to an abrupt halt next to a bookstore. Jasi peered out the window, noting that the vehicles in front had slowed to a snail's crawl while anxious drivers rubbernecked the area, eager for signs of catastrophe. At first, she thought there had been an accident. Then she noticed that a crowd had gathered across the street in front of City Hall. Two television station vans were parked nearby while camera operators forced their way to the center of the crowd, each vying for prime position.
    A tall blond-haired woman seemed vaguely familiar.
    Jasi realized that the blond was a new reporter for CTBC News . She groaned when she saw who stood beside the woman, basking and primping in front of the camera.
    Premier Allan Baker.
    Great! What the hell is he up to now?
    "Wait for me here!" she ordered, handing Ahmed a twenty-dollar bill. "I won't be gone long."
    Jasi jumped from the taxi and darted between the slowing vehicles until she reached the sidewalk. She pushed her way through the crowd just in time to hear the news reporter introduce Baker.
    "Because of the unfortunate death of your father, you have been wrenched away from your regular duties as Premier of BC," the woman announced in a low, raspy voice. "Has his death been ruled an accident?"
    Baker hesitated for a moment. "I'm sorry. I can't comment on the investigation. When the coroner releases that information I'm sure you'll be the first to know."
    "Jesus!" Jasi muttered when she caught the Premier eyeing the reporter's skirt-clad hips.
    The man was insufferable.
    "Premier Baker, is it true that your father's employment with Kelowna General Hospital was going to be terminated?" The reporter innocently tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.
    Baker shifted uncomfortably, then gazed into the camera. "Miss Prescott, my father was fifty-eight years old and getting ready to retire. I have no idea what the hospital administration had in mind."
    Prescott's hazel eyes flashed stubbornly. "But what about his alcohol problem? It's been reported that Dr. Washburn was drinking on the job."
    "My father was a top-notch doctor―the best in his field," Baker replied coolly. "Any claims regarding alcohol consumption while working have been unfounded and all charges have been dismissed. I'm sure you can check the hospital records."
    Baker eyed his watch, then peered into the crowd.
    His eyes targeted Jasi's, and he smiled.
    The reporter nudged the microphone closer. "Premier Baker, do you think your father's death will have any affect on the public support you receive, especially now that you've stated your intentions to run for Prime Minister?"
    Baker's shoulders slumped noticeably and he emitted a long sigh.
    Probably an act, Jasi thought.
    "How my father's death will affect the public, I can only guess. Dr. Norman Washburn was my father and mentor. He supported my campaigns one hundred percent. I'll miss the old man, regardless of what anyone may think. As for public support? I'm very thankful that BC judges a man by his own acts, his own abilities―not by someone else's actions."
    Jasi stifled a snicker. Great act!
    Baker strode toward her, determination evident on his face. He elbowed his way closer while Prescott followed behind, motioning the camera operator to keep up.
    "Now if you have additional questions, Miss Prescott, you can ask Agent McLellan here. She's with the CFBI, investigating my father's death."
    A cluster of microphones collided in front of Jasi. She observed the eager, hungry faces of the news hounds that begged for a juicy treat.
    She wasn't giving them any―not even one little bone.
    Stepping forward, she said firmly, "No comment."
    Prodding Baker past the cameras, Jasi swore under her breath. "Don't say another word to the press about the investigation. The information we gave you was strictly confidential."
    She started to walk away but Baker caught her arm.
    "Whoa! He was my father,