Irrevocable Trust (Sasha McCandless Legal Thriller Book 6) (21 page)

BOOK: Irrevocable Trust (Sasha McCandless Legal Thriller Book 6)
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He shook his head in disagreement.

No, I never should have opened the door. Who was it? It was the feds, right? They

re going to split us up or put us in a foster home, aren

t they?

Leo cleared his throat to buy time.


I don

t know, Cole. I doubt it. Hank didn

t tell anyone from Witness Protection your exact location
—”


Where is Hank, anyway?

The kid rocked back on his heels.


He had a meeting. But I really doubt that whoever it was came from the government.

Leo could feel Sasha

s eyes on his back cautioning him not to say too much. He probably already had, but he wanted to ease the boy

s mind. He didn

t know who was trying to track down Cole Bennett, but he was fairly certain it wasn

t WITSEC.

Now, who it
was

that was the question.

Cole

s breathing slowed.

Oh. Yeah, I guess they know I

m not eighteen, anyway.


That

s true,

Leo agreed.


Well then who do you think it was?


I have no idea. Could have been anyone

a pollster, a door-to-door marketer. I don

t know.


I guess. Okay, sorry for overreacting.

The boy said the words slowly, as if he weren

t quite convinced that there was no reason to panic. But he couldn

t identify one, so it seemed as if he would let it go.


Don

t apologize. You

re smart to be cautious.

His mother

s murder hung in the air between them.

Leo could tell they were both thinking that if Anna had been a little more careful, she might still be alive.


Uh

okay. Thanks.

The boy smiled weakly and walked back into the house.

Leo started to follow him, but Sasha yanked him back onto the porch one-handed. She

d tucked the grinder into the crook of her elbow.


What?

She stared at him.


What? What do you think? You know who that was, right?


At the door?


Yes, at the door.


No, like I told Cole, I have no idea
…”
He trailed off.

He really didn

t know who it could be, but he didn

t think it was a federal agent. He shielded his eyes from the late afternoon sun and waited for her to tell him what she thought.

She gave him a look of disbelief.

Connelly, I

m sure it was a process server.

He cocked his head.


Pulaski probably wants Cole to testify,

she explained.


He wants him to testify on behalf of Bricker? That

s insane.


No.

She corrected him with a vigorous shake of her head. Her loose wavy hair fell over her face and she pushed it aside.

It

s not insane. It

s ballsy and inappropriate. In other words, it

s right out of Andy Pulaski

s play book.


There

s no way Pulaski could have tracked down the kids, Sasha.

Even as he said it, he realized the fallacy of the statement. There was
always
a way to track someone down

unless the person you were tracking was in Witness Protection, of course. He swallowed a bitter laugh.


Believe what you want. I

m telling you. The process server asked if he was eighteen because service of a subpoena wouldn

t be valid if he gave it to a minor. Pulaski may not know how old Cole is, but he knows where he is. I know it.

Leo shivered. He looked up to see if a cloud had passed over the hot May sun. One hadn

t.

Sasha looked at him, her green eyes deep pools of worry.


It

s going to be okay. And I know you don

t agree with this, but I

ve been thinking

I should be carrying.

She shook her head.

Please don

t bring your gun into the house with all these kids here.

He grabbed her wrist.

Sasha
—”


Anyway, you don

t need it. I have a knife.

She squeezed his hand and crossed the threshold into the house, leaving him to stand in the doorway and blink in disbelief.

Sasha had armed herself? She was more shaken than she

d let on.

He stood on the porch for a long moment. Then he slowly took the steps back down to the street, his heart hammering in his chest. He unlocked the SUV

s passenger door and then unlocked the glove compartment.

He took out his Glock and turned it over in his hands, then he glanced up at the house and holstered the gun.

His wife had to trust her instincts, and he had to trust his.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

 

 

 

Andy Pulaski rubbed his forehead. He

d wasted a hundred bucks hiring a private investigator to follow Sasha McCandless

paralegal on a hunch that she

d lead him to the kids.

The hunch had paid off, but the PI said the oldest kid wasn

t yet eighteen so he hadn

t served him.

In retrospect, of course, he should have figured. The stupid irrevocable trust was for the benefit of the
minor
children, but it was worth sending up a flyer to see if maybe the oldest kid had turned eighteen since it had been drafted.

Of course, he didn

t dare submit the expense to that old hag Perry-Brown for reimbursement. He could almost hear her crowing,

Do you know the meaning of minor, Mr. Pulaski?

Forget the benjamin, Big Gun, focus.

After his initial annoyance at having been appointed to represent some in-the-wind, prepper freak, he

d calmed down and realized this pain-in-the-butt court appointment could be his golden goose.

He just had to play it right.

If he could get Judge Perry-Brown to rule that it was in the Bennett kids

best interests to maintain contact with their father, it would be a stunning victory. A career maker. He

d solidify himself as the go-to guy for fathers with ugly stories but big bank accounts.

But with no client around to tell his story, and no access to the kids, how exactly was he supposed to overcome the bias against Bricker?

Not to mention the unfortunate fact that Bricker

s estranged wife had been brutally murdered while he was on the run.

A lesser attorney than Sasha McCandless could spin this story into a nightmare, and, unfortunately, for all her deceptive cuteness, she was a nasty bulldog. She was going to pummel him. Unless he came up with something good. And fast.

He drummed his fingers on his desk and reread his notes.

How to make Bricker sympathetic?

His mind was a perfect blank. He

d represented some unlikeable people, but this guy really took the cake.

He balled up his notes and threw them in the wastebasket.

He was sitting at his desk, staring at nothing, when the telephone rang. He ignored it.

A moment later, Becca, his secretary, appeared in the doorway.


Andy?


What?


I

m sorry to bother you. There

s a Mr. Bricker on the phone.

Andy

s head snapped back.


Did you say Bricker?


That

s the name he gave. Isn

t that your absentee dad?


Put him through.

He waved her away.


Sure.

She pulled the door shut behind her.

He pressed his hands against the top of his desk and steadied his breathing.

The transfer tone sounded and the red light on his telephone blinked up at him.

He exhaled and hit the speaker button.


What can I do for you, Mr. Bricker?

he said with all the bravado he could muster.


It

s more a matter of what you
will
do for me, Big Gun.

Bricker

s voice crackled in his ear.

Andy told himself the chill he felt was anticipation, not fear.


And what would that be?

Bricker was silent for a beat.

Then he said,

I understand you

ve been appointed to represent me in a proceeding to terminate my parental rights. Is that correct?


Yes. How did you

?


That

s not your concern.


I

m not so sure about that. But, regardless, I assume you object to any termination?

Andy swiveled his desk chair around and propped his feet up on his windowsill. He imagined his view was of something other than the strip mall

s dumpsters.


You assume wrong. I hardly think I

m in any position to take custody of my children, given my

circumstances.


Oh.

Andy

s feet thudded to the floor, and his shoulders sagged.


So, you want to consent?

His golden goose was turning into a chicken.


With caveats. One, I want my children to be freed.


Freed?


The government is holding them hostage. That

s unconscionable, wouldn

t you say?


Mm-hmm.

Great, just great. Bricker was sticking to his anti-government craziness.


Two, I do not consent to the appointment of Sasha McCandless as trustee. I don

t want her anywhere near my kids.


Uh, so you want to contest the will but not the termination of your rights?

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