“Anywhere. Look, if WITSEC has a leak, this place is compromised. If there’s no leak, it’s still best practice to leave because, well, it’s compromised anyway.”
Hank nodded. “Procedure would be to move them.”
“Right. And I had time to think about it on the plane. We have the luxury of not following strict procedure. We don’t have to relocate them for good. We just need to get them out of here.”
“Tomorrow. Or the next day. At least let them get a good night’s sleep. They just lost their mom, they don’t need any more trauma right now.”
“You’re the one who said the locals are useless. Why stay here? We’re sitting ducks.”
“I hear you. We’ll move out in the morning.” Hank’s tone was final.
A wail—either of sorrow or fury—rose from the kitchen, followed by an explosion of kids shouting over one another. Leo bit back his futile retort and headed for the kitchen.
Hank trailed him.
At the sight of two large men hulking in the doorway, the furor in the kitchen stopped, as if someone had hit pause.
Hank hung back and let Leo go first.
He squinted as he entered the large, bright kitchen. Every overhead light was switched on. In contrast, the family room just to the right, where their mother’s body had been found, was dark and silent. It didn’t take a degree in child psychology to figure out what was going on.
The Bennetts were crowded around the kitchen island. The oldest boy and girl each held a little one on a lap. The middle two kids had pulled their stools close and were sitting shoulder to shoulder. All six faces reflected varying degrees of worry, confusion, grief, shock, sorrow, fear—emotions that had no business haunting children.
Especially not these children, who’d already been uprooted from their lives and betrayed by their father.
Leo’s chest squeezed. He knew that feeling. Not like the Bennett kids, to be sure, but he knew the heavy loneliness of being fatherless in a strange place.
He cleared his throat.
“Hi, I’m Leo.” He smiled encouragingly at the littlest boy, who popped a thumb into his mouth and looked back at Leo with serious eyes.
The girl who was holding the boy answered. “I’m Be—Brianna.”
“I remember you,” Leo told her. She and the boy, now known as Cole, had kept it together long enough to hustle their siblings out of harm’s way before Sasha and Leo had stormed her father’s armed compound.
She smiled uncertainly.
The little girl looked up from Cole’s lap. “You’re Cousin Leo?”
Sure, why not? If they could have an African-American Uncle Hank, they may as well have a half-Vietnamese Cousin Leo.
“Yep, that’s me, Cousin Leo.” He winked at her and was rewarded with a giggle.
Her laughter faded quickly.
“So what’s the plan?” Cole asked in a dull, tired voice.
“I know you all have had a heck of a day. And I want you to know we’re all really sorry about your mom. But Hank and I are going to take you somewhere safe in the morning, okay? Let’s try to get some sleep.” He kept his voice soft.
Tears welled up in the middle boy’s eyes, who wiped them away with the back of his hand.
“We have to leave?” Leah, the one who used to be named Lacey, asked. Her lip trembled.
“Just for a little while.”
“Where?” the middle boy, Mark, asked.
“Back up North,” Leo said, which was about as much detail as he could provide, seeing as how he had no idea where they were going.
He turned toward Brianna and Cole and tried to decide how to broach the subject of go-bags. He assumed their mother hadn’t shed all of her old habits. “Do you have bags packed already? You know—just in case?”
Brianna shook her head. “Mom said we didn’t need to do that anymore.” Her voice dropped and she stared down at her feet.
“Oh. Well, in the morning you should each grab a backpack and fill it with a couple outfits, a pair of pajamas, and your toiletries. And, uh, everyone go ahead and think about a special toy or book or something you want to bring. Okay?”
He looked around the island and was met by six nodding heads.
“Great. Now, it’s really late. Let’s make it a race against the clock to get ready for bed. See how fast you can do it.”
They jumped off the stools and started running for the stairs.
“Wait,” Brianna said, skidding to a stop near the refrigerator.
Cole stopped beside her. “What’s up?”
“The ice envelope.”
“Ice envelope?” Leo parroted.
Cole shook his head in self-disgust. “How could we forget?”
The girl pulled open the freezer door and shifted bags of frozen vegetables and packages of meat until she a located a letter-sized manila envelope.
“ICE. In Case of Emergency. Mom always kept the ICE envelope in the freezer. You know, with the ice,” she explained to Leo with a tremulous smile.
“Sure.”
She handed the envelope to her brother, and they stared down at it together. Leo looked over Cole’s shoulder. “OPEN ICE” was printed across the front of the envelope in neat, feminine lettering. But that isn’t what caused Leo’s heart to thump in his chest. Clipped to the front of the envelope was a cream-colored business card with distinctive navy blue lettering. He leaned forward and peered at the words to confirm what he already knew: Sasha’s business card was in the dead woman’s freezer.
CHAPTER NINE
Tuesday
Sasha gulped her coffee as she hurried along South Highland Avenue toward her office.
Her late-night work session had allowed her to catch up on her caseload but it had come at a cost. She was exhausted.
Of course, that wasn’t all due to the hours spent researching the available remedies for a breached contract to build a retail space to suit. The nightmares had contributed, too.
It was always the same story, even though the details changed. She dreamed about Bricker, out there, getting closer. He was coming for her.
She balled her hand into a fist then released it. To her surprise, her primary emotion wasn’t fear, it was anger. She wanted to face Bricker.
She was looking forward to being there when he was captured and dragged away in handcuffs. Bricker had killed her friend. He’d crashed her wedding. To the agents who were spread out across the country searching for him, he was a faceless danger—the larger-than-life mastermind who’d nearly succeeded in starting a pandemic and who’d managed to escape from a federal prison. But to her, he was a very specific, very personal threat: And she was going to kick his ass.
Her heart rate was rising. She checked her calendar. No meetings until after lunch.
Good. She’d call Daniel and see if he could squeeze in a sparring session at noon. She had some aggression to work out.
She took another swig of coffee and gagged. Was there anything grosser than cold coffee?
She charged into the building and beelined for Jake’s coffee shop for a fresh, hot coffee.
Jake waved good morning on his way through to the kitchen as she joined the short line at the coffee bar. It was a little early for Jake’s usual clientele, herself excepted.
The new guy at the counter greeted her with a grin and two fresh mugs of coffee.
“Nicaraguan dark, right?”
“Thanks. I see my reputation precedes me, but I don’t usually double-fist coffees.”
He laughed. “I figured your friend could use a warm up.”
She stared at him blankly.
“You know, your friend with the crazy eyes? She was waiting here when I opened. She said something about having a Property exam tonight.” He jerked his head to the doorway.
“Oh, right. Thanks.”
She scooped up the mugs and headed for Naya’s office.
Out of hands, she rapped on the door with her foot.
“Come in,” Naya called.
“Open the do
or. I come bearing caffeine,” she shouted back.
The door opened inward, and a smiling Naya appeared in the doorway.
She grabbed one of the mugs from Sasha’s hands.
“Awesome. Thank you!” She spoke rapid-fire and too loud, like someone who had had far too little sleep and far too much coffee.
“You’re in a good mood for someone who has a Property final looming on the horizon,” Sasha said as she eyed the mug, wondering if she should try to ease it out of Naya’s hand.
Naya seemed to sense her plan and gripped the handle more tightly.
“The hard exams are behind me now. Property’s a breeze. Home stretch, baby, hoooooome stretch!”
Sasha swallowed her skepticism. Different strokes, and all, but she didn’t recall there being anything particularly easy about the rule against perpetuities, vested remainders, and conditions precedent.
“Whatever gets you through.”
“Right. Hey, you and Fly Boy want to grab a bite with me and Carl after my exam? I could use a little break.”
At the mention of Connelly, Sasha felt herself stiffen.
“He’s out of town, but I could meet you guys for a late dinner—unless you’d rather just make it a date. I’m sure Carl hasn’t seen much of you lately.”
Naya rolled her eyes. “No, he hasn’t. And he’s been moaning like a baby about it. I was hoping Leo could provide some perspective on being with a powerful career woman. Where is he, anyway?”
“I don’t know.”
Naya’s eyes widened
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I told you yesterday. He’s not telling me everything.”
Worry flashed across Naya’s face. “Do you think it’s Bricker?”
“Maybe. Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it out of him eventually. You focus on exams. Talk to Carl and let me know about dinner, but I think you should just give him some one-on-one attention tonight.” She winked. “That’s my advice, from powerful career woman to powerful career woman.”
Naya laughed. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Rain check on dinner?”
“You know it.”
Sasha turned to leave.
“Hey, Mac—”
“What?”
“You should call Aroostine. If something’s going on with Bricker, she ought to know.”
CHAPTER TEN
“I’m sorry I can’t help you, but I’m still persona non grata at Justice. No one’s telling me anything.”
Aroostine’s frustration was palpable through the phone line.
Sasha clucked her tongue sympathetically. “You’ll be back in the saddle soon.”
It had taken her the better part of the day to catch up with Aroostine, and after all that phone tag, it turned out she was just as in the dark as Sasha was—maybe more.
Aroostine had been unfairly demoted from a plum spot in the Criminal Division of the Department of Justice to a field position with the U.S. Attorney General’s Office in Johnstown, Pennsylvania.
Her mistake? Missing jury selection to save the lives of two innocent people and thwart an international criminal’s efforts to control vulnerable and sensitive national information. But, rules are rules, and her boss had shipped her off to the hinterlands in a snit.
“I don’t really care if I ever get back to headquarters. Honestly, I’m happier back home with Joe and out in the community working with local law enforcement. D.C. was a hornet’s nest. But I do care that they’re freezing me out of the Bricker investigation.”
Sasha found herself nodding even though Aroostine couldn’t see her. Aroostine was within her rights to be angry. She’d been part of the original criminal investigation into Jeffrey Bricker and his prepper group, and she’d been held hostage by Bricker’s mercenaries at Sasha and Connelly’s wedding. She had her own reasons to want to see Bricker back behind bars.
“I’m glad you’re happy in Johnstown, at least.”
“Thanks. Listen, for all the good it’ll do, I’ll send some feelers out. Are you concerned about something in particular or are you just interested in a general status?”
Sasha hesitated.
“Uh, just a general status. But listen, don’t do anything that’s going to get you in trouble.”
Aroostine laughed dryly. “How much more trouble could I get into?”
“I don’t know, are there any crappier U.S. Attorney postings vacant?”
They laughed together for a moment, then something caught Sasha’s eye out her window. A passenger van pulled into a spot across the street and Connelly got out of the driver’s seat. He waited for a teenage boy to join him from the rear of the van. They dodged the late afternoon traffic and darted across the street toward her building.
“Hey, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you soon.”
She ended the call and waited for Connelly and the kid to show up in her office. She didn’t have long to wait.
The sound of heavy footsteps falling along the outside corridor announced their arrival, followed by two short raps on her half-open door.
Connelly stuck his head into the office without waiting for her to call out an invitation.
“Hey, do you have a minute?”
He looked worse than she felt—pale and tired, with dark half-rings under his bleary eyes.
“Hey yourself. Come on in.”
He pushed the door open and walked into the office followed by the teenage boy.
She put the boy’s age at about sixteen, maybe a little older. He was tall and lanky. He had pale, freckled skin. She couldn’t see his eyes because his gaze was fixed on the floor just ahead of his feet, and his light brown hair hung over his forehead.
Something about the way he carried himself was familiar, though.
Connelly reached behind him and pulled her door shut.
“You remember Clay Bricker, don’t you, Sasha?” he asked.
At the sound of his name, the boy jerked his head up, eyes flashing. “It’s Cole Bennett now.”
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 a
nd 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.”
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