Irrevocable Trust (Sasha McCandless Legal Thriller Book 6) Read online

“Long enough.” He stiffened even more.

  She walked over to join him near the hallway. She didn’t dare reach out and touch him. He was shaking with rage.

  “Listen,” she said in a low voice, “I understand. I really do.”

  It was the exactly wrong thing to say.

  He stared at her with dark, warning eyes and hissed, “No, you don’t. None of you know what it’s like for us!”

  He turned and ran toward the front of the house.

  “Cole, no! Wait!” Connelly shouted.

  Sasha threw him an apologetic look and sprinted after the boy.

  By the time she hit the front porch, he was already halfway down the block.

  She ran down the stairs with ease, thankful both for her running workouts on Pittsburgh’s various sets of crumbling city-owned steps and for the fact that for once she was wearing flats instead of stilettos. The fleeting thought crossed her mind that, given the frequency with which she found herself sprinting, it might be time to retire high heels from her wardrobe for good.

  Bite your tongue, she told herself.

  She ran harder, closing the distance between her and the boy.

  He reached the corner and hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at her, then spun wildly and ran to his left, toward the small community garden and park that anchored the neighborhood.

  She had to catch him before he reached the edge of the park. It backed up to acres of undeveloped woods, filled with junk, poison ivy, and who knew what else.

  She dug in and increased her speed.

  Cole slowed to a jog and then a walk. He stopped beside the raised box holding tidy rows of cornstalks and leaned on the chicken wire that protected it from the local rabbits.

  She came to a stop and stood a few feet away, trying to decide if she should move closer or give him his space.

  His narrow shoulders heaved. Even though his back was to her, she could tell he was sobbing.

  She walked over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She had to stretch on her toes to reach him. He was so tall, half boy and half man.

  He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand but didn’t shake her off. She hugged him tighter.

  “Hey, it’s okay to cry, you know.”

  “No, it’s not. I have to be strong. We’re all alone now. And I’m in charge.” His voice was thick with tears and muffled by his hands.

  “That’s not true. Look at me, Cole.”

  He swallowed hard and raised his red-rimmed eyes to meet her gaze.

  “Yeah?” he sniffed.

  “Yeah. I guess you heard that the government is kicking you guys out of witness protection. I can’t defend that action. But I promise you this, those people sitting around the table, they’re not going to abandon you. And neither am I. Okay?”

  He nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  “Okay. So, you don’t need to be strong. What you need to be is a kid.”

  “No, I need a seat at the table. It’s only fair. You’re making decisions that impact my family.” He jutted out his chin and stared at her defiantly, waiting for her to object.

  She studied him and considered her response.

  “I’ll make it happen. In return, you’ll be mindful of the danger you’re in. No more running off. Deal?”

  She stuck out her hand.

  He smiled and pumped it.

  “Deal.”

  “Good,” she said, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Especially since you should know by now, you’re never going to outrun me, kid. I’m like the wind.”

  He laughed reluctantly. “Right.”

  “Come on. We need to get back before Hank pulls a brain muscle worrying.”

  His chuckle turned into a real laugh as they headed back toward the house.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Sasha returned with Cole, and the group reassembled at the table.

  This time, Naya bowed out to fix sandwiches for the kids’ lunch.

  Cole took her seat.

  To Leo’s eternal amusement, Hank stayed sandwiched in the kid-sized chair. His arms and legs jack-knifed and folded.

  Leo leaned back, stretching his legs in his luxurious adult-sized chair, and watched as the teenager set out the reasons why he thought they should stay in the house. He was articulate and passionate, but Leo could tell that Will and Hank were unmoved by his argument.

  “Son,” Will finally interrupted, “I understand what you’re saying. Your brothers and sisters have been through a great deal, no one disputes that. And you have, too. But if you want to be treated as an adult, you need to hear the very adult reality: there’s a good chance your father’s going to come after you. And, if not you, then Sasha and Leo. If he learns where you are, and where they are, your entire family will be in danger. If WITSEC were in the picture, staying put might be a risk worth taking. But they aren’t, so it’s not.”

  Leo was impressed by Will’s cool logic, but the kid wasn’t swayed.

  “Am I supposed to run from that dirtbag for the rest of my life?” he countered.

  “No, you’re not. I’m going to stop him and put him back where he belongs: behind bars,” Hank intoned. “But until I do, I need to know that you’re all safe.”

  Cole said nothing but set his mouth in a hard line.

  Leo glanced over at Sasha, but she was distracted by her phone on her lap. It looked like she was texting or emailing someone. She wasn’t going to be any help.

  “Listen,” he interjected, “what if you help find a new place? I mean, Hank got this house because it was the first thing he could find, he had access to it through his sources, and it’s better than nothing. But why don’t you talk to your brothers and sisters and come up with a wish list—for instance, Leah would probably like a nice, level backyard where she can garden. I know she still has some more of your mom’s seeds left. Anyway, you guys can come up with some ideas about location, size, features, whatever. And then we can work together to find something that truly fits your needs. How’s that sound?”

  The boy’s jaw softened. “That would be good, yeah.”

  It was Hank’s turn to frown. “Fine. But time’s of the essence here. We can’t dilly-dally. Go ahead and talk to them and start packing up. We need to move out by tomorrow evening at the absolute latest. If we have to stay in motels short term while you’re looking for a new place, we will. But we can’t stay here.”

  “Understood. And thanks.” Cole nodded seriously and went off in search of his siblings.

  “He’s being forced to grow up too fast,” Leo said as he watched the boy disappear.

  Beside him, Sasha made a soft hmm noise but didn’t look up from her Blackberry.

  Irritation pricked at his neck. Couldn’t she put down her stupid phone and stop messing around with work emails for one day? Caroline was at the office covering all the phones.

  He huffed out a loud, dramatic sigh intended to draw her attention.

  When she looked up, her eyes were wide with fear, and his annoyance vanished instantly.

  “Sorry, were you saying something?”

  She tried to cover up her concern, but he knew her too well. Sasha was afraid.

  He reached over to take her hand. Just then, Naya appeared in the doorway with a tray of turkey sandwiches in one hand and a triumphant smile plastered on her face.

  “I think I know how Bricker found Allison,” she said.

  At the exact same moment, Sasha blurted, “Someone broke into the condo.”

  After a heavy silence, everyone started talking at once.

  Will held up a hand and took control of the chaos.

  “Hang on. Let’s do one thing at a time.” He turned to Sasha. “What happened at your condo?”

  She took a long, centering breath. “Maisy was getting ready to head out for a lunch date. As she walked down the hallway, she noticed that the door to my place … I mean, our place … was ajar. She peeked her head in to say hi and she said the place is trashed.” She glanced at Leo with an un
readable expression.

  “Anything missing?” he asked.

  “She wouldn’t know. She called 9-1-1 and canceled on her date to wait until the cops get there. I’d like to be there when they arrive.”

  She blanched, and he knew she was thinking of her client files.

  Hank cleared his throat. “Is your gun secure?”

  Leo patted his waistband. “It’s on me.”

  “Good.”

  He felt Sasha’s eyes on him but didn’t meet her gaze. They could fight about the gun later.

  “Is Maisy okay to stay there?” Naya asked, a worried crease wrinkling her forehead.

  “She said the place was empty. I told her to stay outside, just in case. I doubt she searched it thoroughly.”

  Sasha scooped up her keys, phone, and wallet and dumped them all into her bag. Leo noted with relief that her hands were steady now. Then he looked down at his own and willed himself to stop their trembling.

  “You coming?” she said.

  “Yes.” He stood to follow her. “Wait, Naya had an epiphany.”

  Naya waved them toward the door. “Never mind that. Good news always keeps. Go.”

  But Will shook his head. “No. If you have a theory as to how Bricker found his family, it could be important.”

  “Critical, even,” Hank added.

  Sasha paused in the doorway to hear what Naya had to say, but Leo could feel the impatience radiating off her in waves. He gave her what he hoped was a soothing smile.

  “Okay, well, as I was slicing tomatoes for the sandwiches, it dawned on me.”

  “What dawned on you?” Sasha asked, hurrying her along.

  “The seeds. Fly Boy over there mentioned using some of Allison’s seeds to start a garden at the new house when the kids move.”

  “Right, Leah has this stainless steel container full of seeds she brought with her when they moved. I helped her plant some out back because they had to leave their mom’s garden behind,” Leo volunteered.

  Her voice gathered strength and confidence as she went on. “Exactly. So I took a look at the seed vault.”

  “And?”

  “And remember how I connected Celia Gerig to the preppers?” Naya asked professorially.

  Suddenly he could imagine her in court, authoritative and convincing, persuading a jury to find for her client. But he couldn’t recall the Gerig connection. “Sorry, not really.”

  “I do,” Sasha interjected. “She was asking about heirloom seeds on some message board.”

  “Bingo! And who do you think responded with a link to a recommendation? Your girl, Anna Bricker. I pulled up the cached page. The company she told Celia to use is the same one that made the canister in the mudroom.”

  “How on earth did you remember that?” Will asked, impressed but baffled.

  “Hey. Mac’s not the only one with a steel trap for a memory.”

  Sasha smiled. “So how do you think that leads to Bricker exactly?”

  “Figure a year and a half has passed. Bricker’s behind bars. Allison and the kids have a new life, no one knows where they are. She decides she wants a garden. She knows it’s a theoretical risk to order from this survivalist company she’s done business with in the past. But their product’s superior and the price is right. She rationalizes it and places an order under her new name. When Bricker gets out, he starts trying to track her down. He hits dead end after dead end until he remembers the seed company. He contacts the company and gets a list of everyone who ordered seeds for this planting season. Alphabetical list? Allison Bennett, Anna Bricker? It wouldn’t take a genius to connect the dots. And anyway, he sort of is one.”

  “Okay. Sure, that’s plausible. It’s a stretch, but Bricker presumably knew her as well as anybody, if not better. If gardening was her thing, he could have predicted her habits.” Sasha glanced at Hank. “Would it be breaking any WITSEC rules to order from a company that you’ve done business with in the past—I mean, using the new name?”

  He frowned. “Not exactly. But witnesses are encouraged to break ties with their old lives. It wouldn’t take much for some overeager junior attorney who heard Naya’s theory to chalk Allison’s death up to her carelessness.”

  Will twisted his mouth into a sour knot, leaving no room for doubt as to how he felt about such an argument, even in the hypothetical.

  After a moment, he smoothed his expression into a smile and reached over to pat Naya on the shoulder. “Very nice work, Naya.”

  Leo could have sworn he saw her blush—her dark skin turned momentarily dusky.

  She ducked her head and said, “It was nothing, really. I was just spit balling. I’m probably totally off-base. Anyway, I should get these sandwiches into the kids’ bellies before they get hangry.”

  Leo laughed. The younger ones, especially, did seem to become extraordinarily cranky if their meals and snacks were spaced too far apart. It kind of reminded him of his bride, to be honest.

  But Sasha stopped Naya in her tracks.

  “Wait. Don’t do that.”

  “Don’t feed the kids?”

  “No. Don’t brush off a compliment, ever. But especially don’t brush off a compliment about your legal acumen.” Sasha’s eyes were smiling but her tone was anything but light.

  “Oh-kay?”

  “Listen, there will be plenty of people who will be more than happy to denigrate or minimize your achievements. Believe me. Eight years working for Prescott taught me that much, if nothing else. Don’t help them out by selling yourself short. Will’s right. You had a great insight. He recognized it. The proper response is a simple thank you.”

  “Okay, okay,” Naya mumbled.

  Sasha stuck a hand on her hip and cocked her head toward Will.

  Naya glared for a moment then turned and said, “Thank you, Will.”

  “You’re quite welcome.” He punctuated the words with a formal little bob of his head.

  “Happy now?” she asked Sasha.

  “Yes. Now go feed the wild things before they eat each other up.”

  The two shared some secret woman smile for a second.

  Sasha turned to Leo. “Come on. Let’s go rescue Maisy from the crime scene.”

  “Ha. Rescue her? She’s probably working on her pitch to get the exclusive interview as we speak.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Bricker gathered firewood from the forest floor. The only sounds were his labored breathing and the crackle of dry twigs snapping below his feet. He was huffing not from exertion but from irritation.

  He shouldn’t have lost control like that. It had been sloppy and indulgent, and he prided himself on not making careless mistakes.

  Stupid.

  He’d risked exposure by walking right through the front door of McCandless’ condo building and jimmying her lock. Ransacking the space she shared with her husband had been satisfying. It had enabled him to release the raw, blinding rage that had been building ever since he learned that Anna had named the lawyer as trustee of her estate. He’d enjoyed imagining the shock on their faces when they saw the thorough violation of their home.

  But what had he actually accomplished? Not a thing. He hadn’t advanced his goals in any way.

  It had been a fully wasted day.

  He pounded his thigh in frustration. Then he spat in the dirt and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  He needed to regroup. Think. Regain control.

  He was so close to his goal, and Pulaski had given him the last piece of information he needed. Tomorrow at ten o’clock in the morning, Sasha McCandless was going to walk into the Allegheny County Court of Common Pleas to try to sever his ties with his children. Whether she won or lost, he planned to see to it that the last thing she ever did was walk back of out that courthouse.

  He reached into his vest pocket and fished out the satellite phone that the head of Westmoreland County prepper unit had given him with a mixture of pride and embarrassment.

  He’d accepted it with grati
tude, but he did think it was an extravagant waste. Not for him; he needed a secure, untraceable, reliable way to communicate with like-minded men. But he was on the run in an arguably functional society. His situation was different.

  What use would anyone possibly have for a satellite phone when the satellites were all knocked out by an apocalyptic weather event or inoperable because the entities that shared the cost of operating them had all collapsed in an economic disaster? A sat-link was no defense against roving bands of desperate, hungry men. Or a man-made plague. Or terrorists who’d seized control of the government.

  No matter. Right now, the lack of forethought and good planning on the part of a group of well-intentioned but misguided Western Pennsylvanian comrades was not his problem.

  No, his problem was that right now he was in a holding pattern, unable to take any action to move his plans forward until the next day.

  As Anna had always said, he wasn’t a man who did well with down time.

  His hand hovered over the numbers on the phone trying to decide whether it would be productive to call Pulaski again. To what end, though?

  A slow grin crossed his face as a better idea crystallized in his mind.

  He punched in an old friend’s telephone number—a friend who prided himself on his ability to procure any weapon, fast, no questions asked.

  Twenty minutes and two phone calls later, Bricker was en route to rendezvous with someone named “Slim Jim,” who would provide him with a clean firearm to replace the one he’d been forced to abandon when he’d fled the compound in New Mexico.

  He had his hunting knife, and his handiwork on Anna had established his ability to improvise. But Bricker was never happier than when he was peering through a rifle scope. Even a hand gun would suffice. He could almost feel the satisfying weight in his hand.

  He chuckled to himself. What was that Shakespeare quote? “The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.” He wasn’t much of a literature lover, and he was sure if Anna were alive, she’d delight in telling him he had the context wrong, but as far as he was concerned, it was sound advice.

  He neared the designated drop spot and paused in a clearing in the trees to check his watch. A few minutes early, just as he’d planned.