Chapter 32
Sasha pushed all thoughts of the Petersons’ marriage and the day’s events from her mind. She gathered her things—wallet, keys, a slim file related to the emergency temporary restraining order—and slipped them into her bag. She hesitated, then pulled Connelly’s gun from the bottom of the bag and put it within easy reach on the top of the pile. She closed her bag and turned out the office light.
She walked a loop around the floor, hoping to run into someone else getting ready to leave, but the rooms were dark. Only the hall lights were lit, and those would switch to motion detection status at eleven o’clock.
She imagined most people in the litigation group had taken Noah’s death hard and had gone home early to be with their families.
She took out her car keys and pressed the button to pop the ignition key out from the casing. She held them in her fist, pointed out. Ready to be jammed into an eyeball or nostril, if need be.
Sasha had made the mistake of inattentiveness once. She did not intend to make it again. She walked down the internal staircase. Her heart clamored. She was afraid she might not hear footsteps over it, the noise was so loud.
Get it together, she told herself. She could have taken the elevator, but she needed to prove to herself that she was not cowed.
She quickened her pace and burst out into the lobby, her pulse like a trapped bird.
As she past the security station, the dozing guard stirred. “Ms. McCandless, want an escort to your car?”
The guards were required to offer an escort to every woman leaving after eight p.m. It was building policy. In six years, Sasha had never taken a guard up on it.
She slowed and considered it. Certain of her answer, he was already back to sleep.
She shook her head. She just needed to focus.
She walked across the lobby to the entrance to the attached garage. She eyed the door to the stairwell, then the elevator bay. No way out, she thought. Being trapped in an elevator with an assailant was worse, way worse, than being ambushed on the stairs. Plus there was that column. If she emerged from the elevator on the fourth level, she was a sitting duck until she got past that damn column.
She pushed open the door to the stairwell and started to trot up the stairs. As the door closed behind her, she bumped her purse against her side to feel the comforting thump of the gun against her thigh. The exposed light bulb hanging over each landing provided the only light, and the concrete walls magnified the sounds of her footsteps. Her heart was banging in her chest now. She went faster. Like she was running the steps on the South Side Slopes.
She stopped at the fourth floor landing to gather herself before she pushed open the door. Connelly had just said he’d parked on four. She wasn’t sure exactly where her car would be. It wouldn’t be hard to find, given the late hour. But, she didn’t want to spend any more time wandering around the garage than was absolutely necessary.
She pushed the door open hard. It banged against the cinderblock wall with a crack that echoed in the still garage. She rushed through and hit the lock button twice. Unlock, lock. Listened for the chirp, chirp of her car and walked with purpose in that direction.
Connelly had parked against the wall, two in from the corner. Hers was the only car in the row, and the shadows from the corner fell over the space.
Just keep moving.
She reached the car. Looked behind her. No one. Crouched and peered under the car, with the keys ready in her outstretched hand. No one. Stood and hit the button to unlock the door. Peered into the back seat when the dome light came on. No one.
Sasha pulled the door open, hurried into the car, and pressed the button to lock the doors. Put on her seatbelt and started the engine. Her hands shook. She turned the radio on. Loud, to drown out her thoughts. Connelly must have messed with her stations. Classic rock blared out. Songs from before she was born. She didn’t care.
She threw the car in reverse and sped for the ramp. She laid her purse on the passenger seat beside her—open, so she could grab the gun if she needed it.
Irreparable Harm (A Legal Thriller) Page 46