Irrevocable Trust (Sasha McCandless Legal Thriller Book 6) (10 page)

Of course. The oldest Bricker boy
—
the one who
’
d driven Gavin Russell
’
s car to get his siblings out of the compound and to safety.

She smiled brightly and stuck out her hand,
“
Of course. What a wonderful surprise to see you again, Cole.
”

He blinked at her.
“
You don
’
t know?
”

She glanced at Connelly, who was studiously staring over her head out the window, and then back at the boy.
“
Pardon?
”

“
My mom
’
s been murd
—
she
’
s dead,
”
he choked out the words.

Her stomach seized. It felt for all the world as if Daniel had just landed a reverse punch to her core. Blood rushed to her head, making it impossible to think. She was hot. Her ears buzzed. She shook her head as if she could reject the words and make them untrue.

But, of course, they were true. The boy
’
s pain was stretched across his face.

“
What?! When? Oh my God.
”

Cole stared at her mutely while she tried to process what he
’
d said. Connelly came over and stood very close to her.

He spoke in a low, urgent murmur.
“
I
’
m sorry. I couldn
’
t tell you. I promise I
’
ll bring you up to speed later, but right now Cole needs you.
”

She bit down hard on her lower lip until she managed to craft an answer she wouldn
’
t regret.

“
We need to have a serious talk after this.
”

“
I know.
”

She exhaled shakily and raised her eyes to his.
“
Bricker?
”

He gave her a look beyond description
—
tender, frightened, resolved. Finally he said,
“
Officially, we don
’
t know. But
…”

He trailed off, and she nodded. Of course it was Bricker. She waited out the frisson of fear that coursed through her veins and then turned back to Cole.

“
I
’
m so sorry. What I can do?
”

Both the sorrow and the question were genuine. She had no idea how she could help Cole, but presumably he wouldn
’
t be standing in her office unless Connelly had a plan.

“
A lot,
”
Connelly said.
“
Let
’
s sit down and talk.
”

“
Oh, right. Sorry. Please, Cole, have a seat. Do you guys want some
…
drinks?
”

She
’
d been about to offer them coffee but tripped over the word. Was it okay to offer a teenager coffee? Her grandmother had started sneaking it to her when she was twelve, but her mother insisted it had stunted her growth. Cole looked to be pretty close to fully grown.

Connelly shot her a look like he knew what she was thinking.
“
We
’
re fine.
”

They lowered themselves into her guest chairs stiffly.

She was struck by a sudden thought.

“
Wait, so where
’
s Hank?
”
she asked.
“
And the rest of the kids.
”

The boy rolled his eyes. Connelly jerked a thumb toward the window.

“
They
’
re in the van, and Uncle Hank is getting antsy. He
’
s working the phone trying to find us a safe house, but there
’
s a lot of
…
background noise.
”

“
It
’
s like being trapped in a snare drum with a wildcat,
”
Cole deadpanned in a creditable imitation of Hank
’
s rumbling baritone.

Sasha almost laughed but then recalled the reason for their visit.

“
So, what can I do for you, Cole?
”

“
I don
’
t know, but you must. My mom sent us,
”
Cole blurted, apparently out of patience for small talk.

“
Your mom?
”
she repeated, certain she
’
d misheard him.

“
Yes,
”
he said thickly, digging his hand into his pocket.

She glanced at Connelly, who raised his eyebrows and gave a slight nod of confirmation.

A dead woman sent them?

Cole thrust a crumpled card at her.

“
What
’
s this?
”
she asked as she reached for it.

“
Your business card. Anna
—
I mean
—
Allison Bennett had it clipped to the front of an envelope that she kept in the freezer.
”
Connelly answered.

She stared down at the card in her hand. It was definitely hers. That was her name--Sasha McCandless, Esquire. And beneath that, her title: Partner, McCandless & Volmer. That was the distinctive orange stripe that Will had wanted to add to the card.

She blinked and looked up, meeting Connelly
’
s eyes.

“
Did you give it to her that night at the compound?
”

Sasha shook her head.
“
No.
”

“
Maybe later, during the trial?
”

“
No,
”
she repeated, clearing her throat.

Connelly and Cole watched her, waiting.

“
I didn
’
t give this card to your mother,
”
she told the boy.

“
Sure you did. She must have thought you
’
d help us if something happened,
”
he insisted.

“
I hope she thought that,
”
Sasha said slowly.
“
And I hope I can. But this card is new. We had them printed after Will left Prescott last summer,
”
she continued, addressing Connelly more than the kid now.
“
The first orders didn
’
t even have this orange bar.
”
She pointed at the design.

“
When did you add that?
”
Connelly asked.

She searched her memory.
“
Right before we left for the wedding. There was a full box waiting on my desk when we got back from the honeymoon. I don
’
t know how she got this.
”

“
Who cares how she got it?
”
Cole snapped.
“
Are you going to help me or not?
”

“
Of course I am,
”
she soothed. She turned the card in her fingers.
“
What do you need.
”

Cole floundered.
“
I don
’
t know. Here. This is my mom
’
s ICE envelope.
”
He pulled a thick manila envelope from his back pocket. It had been rolled lengthwise into a tube.

“
Ice?
”

“
In Case of Emergency,
”
Connelly explained.

She took the envelope and smoothed it out to examine the front.
‘
Open ICE
”
was printed across the front in thick black marker. The printing was neat, sure
—
the hand of a mother planning for contingencies, keeping order in her home.

“
Your card was attached right there on the corner,
”
Connelly said.

“
And this was in the freezer?
”

“
Freezer
’
s better than a safe. Secure in the event of a fire. Not attractive to roving bands of thieves. Easily accessible. Hide it in the open, or at least in among the frozen peas,
”
Cole recited.

“
Did your dad teach you that?
”
she asked before she could stop herself.

Cole barked out a short laugh.
“
Him? No. He was all about safes. The bigger and stronger the better. Titanium, retina scans, whatever. No, the freezer thing was all Mom.
”

It was a clever spot to use. She gave him a wan smile.

“
May I open it?
”

“
That
’
s the idea. It
’
s full of papers, but they
’
re all legal mumbo-jumbo,
”
Cole said.

She worked the clasp and slid out a sheaf of documents. She flipped through them,
Last Will and Testament of Allison Bennett, Financial Power of Attorney, Health Care Power of Attorney, Irrevocable Trust for the Benefit of the Bennett Children, Appointment of Trustee.

She looked up at Connelly.
“
This is a lot of reading material. Let me make a copy of all this stuff and start working through it. Why don
’
t you rescue Hank? I
’
m sure the kids are hungry and bored. Go get something to eat. I
’
ll call your cell.
”

“
Are you sure?
”

“
I
’
m sure.
”

He stood, and Cole followed suit.

“
Thank you, Ms. McCandless. I mean, Mrs. Connelly?
”

“
Call me Sasha.
”

Connelly walked over and kissed her softly.
“
Mrs. Connelly sounds better, you know.
”

She arched a brow at that.

“
Go on. Get out of here and let me do my thing.
”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Bricker made it from Sunnyvale all the way up to Weirton, West Virginia along the network, handed off from one conductor to another. But at a rundown McDonald
’
s just south of Weirton, the system broke down.

Pete, the red-hatted truck driver who
’
d picked him up in Norfolk, shrugged apologetically and kicked at the gravel with the toe of his boot as he broke the news.
“
Looks like your next conductor
’
s a no-show, Captain.
”

“
Did something happen?
”
he demanded, worried that the government had somehow gotten wind of the railroad system or, worse yet, his movements.

“
Uh-yup.
”
Pete aimed a stream of chewing tobacco at the weeds growing alongside the parking lot.
“
He got his self picked up on a drug charge, according to the local contact. They
’
re looking for a replacement now, sir. I
’
m sorry I can
’
t take you further down the road. I
’
ve got to get back. I
’
m driving a long haul run. I head out to Iowa tomorrow.
”

Bricker realized he
’
d been holding his breath. He exhaled in relief and offered Pete a firm handshake.

“
Of course, of course. No apologies necessary. Thank you for your service.
”