Imminent Peril (Sasha McCandless Legal Thriller Book 10)

by Melissa F. Miller

  She trotted across the building’s colorful lobby. She always enjoyed visiting Recreation Group’s offices. Between the life-sized, live action game pieces and the rainbow-colored statues from children’s books, it was impossible not to be cheerful and lighthearted while there. Or, as it turned out, nearly impossible. She was currently feeling stressed, edgy, and flustered—and the presence of a sculpture of a pig wearing a tutu and a tiara did nothing to lift her mood.

  “Good morning, Ms. McCandless-Connelly,” the security guard said as she scribbled her name in the visitors’ log. She noted that both Naya and Charles Merriman had already signed in. She didn’t see the names of any of Playtime Toys’ attorneys on the list. For a heart-stopping moment, she wondered if Connelly had been right after all. Was the meeting nothing more than a ruse to distract them from their preparation for the hearing?

  Great. Well, at least they’d had the foresight to leave Will back at the office. He’d prepared for a hearing or two in the course of his career. He and Caroline would make sure they were ready to go if it came to it. There was no point worrying about it now—they just needed to get the meeting over with and move forward.

  She took the stairs to the conference room by twos and hurried down the hallway. When she rushed into the room, four pairs of eyes swung to the door: Naya, Ned, Parker, and Charles Merriman looked up at her from their seats around the table.

  “Good morning. Am I late?” she asked as she hurled herself into the empty chair next to Parker. Ned sat flanked by Parker and Naya.

  “Good morning,” Ned responded. “You’re right on time.”

  “Hi, Sasha. Now that the gang’s all here, why don’t we get started?” Parker suggested.

  “Your lawyers aren’t joining us?” Sasha directed the question to Charles Merriman.

  He shook his head and blinked at her. “No. I didn’t see the need to continue to run up the legal bills, given the situation.”

  Sasha shot Naya a look. Parker caught it, too, and arched an eyebrow in agreement. Merriman was showing his hand. He was capitulating. The fact that Playtime Toys would throw in the towel wasn’t exactly a surprise, but to walk into a meeting with no plan to negotiate was the act of a desperate man—or a distracted one, Sasha corrected herself. Merriman probably had much bigger problems looming on his horizon than the fact that a multimillion dollar deal was falling apart. Problems like a homicide investigation; a massive toy recall, fines, and penalties; and a criminal mastermind who had the goods on him.

  Naya leaned across the table. “Mr. Merriman, are you sure you don’t want to at least loop one of your lawyers in by speakerphone?”

  He looked around the table. “I appreciate the concern, ladies. But let’s be frank, shall we? This motion you filed to stop us from shipping our product, that’s the opening salvo, is it not? Ned, do you want to buy us or not?”

  Ned lifted his shoulders and let them drop as he whooshed out a great breath. He turned to Merriman. “Since we’re being frank, Charles, no, we don’t. Our company’s built on a handful of beliefs that we thought Playtime Toys shared. As we’ve gotten deeper and deeper into this transaction, it’s clear our values don’t align the way we thought they did.”

  Merriman’s face reddened. Sasha thought he might argue the point, but he simply nodded. “Then, let’s skip the blame and recriminations and work out a way to unwind the deal.”

  Parker glanced at Naya, who cleared her throat. “Mr. Merriman, if you recall, the purchase agreement addresses this. If you’ll turn to Section 14, subhead—”

  The CEO interrupted Naya. “I know you lawyers have drafted section after section dealing with every contingency, but I just want to work out a quick, business resolution. Ned, let’s just walk away. I won’t hold your feet to the fire about the breakup fee, and you withdraw your motion. We withdraw our arbitration papers. Then we part ways.”

  Naya blinked rapidly. “Breakup fee? Mr. Merriman, Recreation Group is pulling out of the deal for cause. Multiple causes, actually. Under the circumstances, the breakup fee provision isn’t triggered.”

  “Says you,” Merriman responded placidly. “But I’m confident I can find a law firm that will argue otherwise. We can drag this out—it will be an expensive distraction for both of us.”

  It suddenly was crystal clear why Merriman’s lawyers weren’t in the room. They’d probably refused to take this tack in the negotiations.

  Ned whispered to Parker. She scribbled a note on her legal pad and pushed it toward Sasha. It read: Ned says fine. Let’s just be done with him. Thoughts?

  Sasha tamped down her initial response and spoke in a neutral voice. “Mr. Merriman, will you excuse us for a moment? We’d like to talk over your proposal in private.”

  “Certainly.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “I’ll just borrow the room next door and check in with my office. Okay, Ned?”

  “Make yourself at home,” Ned responded.

  Merriman nodded and crossed the room. After he closed the door behind him, they waited several beats in silence. Ned spoke first.

  “Can we just agree to walk away?” he asked Naya.

  “You can. You shouldn’t,” she advised. “By rights, they should indemnify you for the costs you’ve incurred. They haven’t proceeded in good faith. They lied, covered up, and Lord knows what else, during the due diligence review and the arbitration.”

  “I just want to be done with them. I want to move forward,” Ned explained.

  Sasha looked at Parker. “Parker?”

  She hesitated, twirling a strand of shiny blond hair. “It’s a lot of money, Ned. We’ve spent upwards of three hundred thousand dollars putting this deal together.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t care. I don’t want to ever have to see Charles Merriman’s face after today. That alone is worth a couple hundred grand.”

  Must be nice, Sasha thought.

  “Ned? One issue we haven’t discussed is what happens with the bath crayons if you agree to walk away. If you withdraw the motion for an injunction, he could ship those out tomorrow. They’ll be on store shelves.”

  Ned frowned. “Can’t the court still stop him? In the public good?”

  “It’s complicated, but no. We had standing to file the motion because your company could be harmed if they shipped. If you aren’t buying Playtime Toys, there’s no harm to Recreation Group. They could sell razor blade whistles and you wouldn’t be harmed.”

  “Knowing Merriman they probably would sell razor blade whistles,” Parker muttered.

  Ned shook his head. “That can’t be right.”

  “It’s right. We could re-file with a different plaintiff. A concerned parent, for example. We could report them to the Consumer Product Safety Commission for violating the standards. The CPSC would investigate, possibly impose fines, order a recall, and/or pursue civil and criminal penalties. All of that could happen. But it would take time,” Sasha told him.

  “It would be cleaner if you got him to agree not to ship the product,” Naya said. “As a condition of walking away.”

  Ned nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  Parker went to fetch Merriman. While they waited, Naya turned to Ned. “I’m sorry the deal fell apart.”

  He patted her shoulder. “Win some, lose some. We’ll find another company to buy. And you’ll help us acquire them, won’t you?”

  “Of course.” Naya’s face betrayed no emotion, but Sasha could tell she was relieved that Ned wanted to work with her again.

  Merriman trailed Parker into the room and clapped his hands together in an oddly jovial gesture. “Well? What do you say?”

  “We’ll agree to walk away and withdraw the lawsuit if, and only if, you agree not to ship those crayons, Charles,” Ned said.

  “Nope. That’s a non-starter. There’s nothing wrong with that product,” Merriman insisted.

  “If that’s the case,” Ned pressed, “why did you suddenly change their category from ‘toy’ to ‘art supply’? The only re
ason you’d have done that was to avoid the heavy metals testing requirement, and we both know it.”

  Merriman sputtered for a second before he managed a response. “Balderdash. We made a business decision to re-position the product. We feel it’s a better fit for the arts and crafts market.”

  Sasha had heard enough. She opened her bag and yanked out the package of bath crayons. “I stopped at the toy store on McKnight Road on my way here. The toy store.” She waved the crayons at him. “Look at this package. This is an anthropomorphic aardvark wearing a beret and an inner-tube ring.”

  “We plan to rebrand,” Merriman said weakly. “New packaging, new focus.”

  “Charles, please. There are no artists, or hobby artists for that matter, over the age of four in the market for crayons they can use while bathing. You’re being absurd,” Ned said.

  Merriman jutted out his chin. “If you aren’t buying us, you have no say in our business strategies—no matter how absurd you might find them.”

  Ned turned to Naya. “How many pallets of crayons are there waiting to ship?”

  She flipped to the schedule. “It looks like six.”

  “Six pallets. Is that right, Charles?”

  “I believe so.”

  “I’ll buy them.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I will buy them,” Ned repeated, enunciating each word. He turned to Sasha. “How much did you pay for that package?”

  “Four ninety-nine plus tax,” she answered.

  “I’ll pay retail, Charles. Five bucks a package.”

  “Ned—” Parker began. He held up his hand, and she fell silent.

  “What are you going to do with them?” Merriman wanted to know.

  “What do you care?” he countered.

  Merriman fell silent. Then he said, “You can’t resell them.”

  “I won’t.”

  Sasha watched Merriman’s face. He was trapped, and he knew it. If he refused to sell the crayons to Ned, it was tantamount to an admission that they were defective.

  Merriman considered all the angles. After a long moment, he shrugged. Then he stuck out his hand. “You have a deal.”

  Sasha, Naya, and Charles Merriman all waited for the elevator to the ground floor together in silence. They walked across the lobby to the parking garage elevators together in silence. Naya pushed the button to call the elevator, and then she turned to Sasha.

  “Aren’t you taking the stairs?” she asked.

  Sasha smiled. “No.”

  Naya squinted at her. “You feeling okay, Mac?”

  “Sure thing.” She jerked her head toward Merriman, and Naya fell silent.

  The elevator car arrived and the doors opened. Merriman stepped back to allow Naya to enter first. Then he turned and gestured to Sasha.

  “No, after you,” she insisted. She wanted to make sure he got in.

  He shrugged and walked into the car. She followed. Naya had already hit the button for the third floor. “What floor do you need, Mr. Merriman?”

  “Five, please.”

  Naya looked at Sasha.

  “I’m going to five, too,” Sasha said.

  Naya pressed the button for the fifth floor as the doors closed. Merriman hummed to himself. As the car rose, Naya turned to Sasha.

  “Are you headed back to the office?”

  “I am. I’m going to run an errand first, though. Do you want to call Will and let him know the hearing’s not going forward or should I?”

  “I’ll let him know. And I’ll call Judge Zarelli’s chambers, too,” Naya said.

  “Great.”

  The elevator dinged to announce their arrival on the third floor.

  “See you later,” Naya said as she stepped out into the parking garage.

  “Bye.”

  The doors closed. Merriman kept humming. Sasha jabbed the emergency stop button. The elevator ground to a halt with a jerk. She braced herself for an alarm. None sounded. She exhaled—she’d taken a gamble that the elevator wouldn’t be alarmed. Apparently, it had paid off. Or, at least, she corrected herself, it wasn’t an audible alarm. There was no telling what was happening down at the security station. Better get on with it.

  “What the devil—?”

  She pierced him with a glare. “I want you to understand this. Ned might be willing to buy up your inventory of mercury-laden crayons and write you off, but I’m going to haunt you until you pay for what you’ve done—all of it: the unsafe toys, Prachi’s death, setting me up in that bar fight. I’m not going to rest until you’re in police custody, Mr. Merriman. That’s a promise.” She pressed the ‘5’ button, and the elevator lurched to a start.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he protested.

  “Save it,” she said, staring straight ahead. She reminded herself that she was on probation.

  40

  The consultant was growing restless. He stepped out from his hiding spot between the stairwell and the wall and circled Charles Merriman’s white Jaguar. After he’d stretched his legs, he started to walk back to the shadowy corner, rehearsing his plan.

  When Merriman appeared, he’d approach the car. Merriman would most likely be surprised, but not alarmed, to see him. He could talk his way into Merriman’s vehicle and take care of him. Even if Merriman resisted, though, the consultant was confident he could overpower the CEO. He was soft and complacent.

  The ding of the elevator door interrupted his planning. He turned toward it as the doors parted. Charles Merriman stepped out of the car. But he wasn’t alone. Sasha McCandless-Connelly stood beside him.

  The consultant smiled. Two for the price of one. He revised his plan on the fly and reached inside his pocket for his tactical knife.

  “Well, this is handy,” he said in a conversational tone as he advanced toward them.

  “What are you doing here?” Merriman babbled.

  Sasha locked eyes with Brady Linghold for several seconds. Then her gaze slid downward. In his right hand, he gripped a wicked-looking knife. The blade, pointed toward the floor, glinted in the dim light. Her heart stuttered.

  Not a knife, she thought. Lead pipe, shuriken, nunchucks---she’d happily take her chances. But not a knife. Reflexively, she glanced down at her left arm. Hidden under her suit jacket was a long, ugly scar that ran across her brachial artery—a permanent reminder of her knife fight with a coroner.

  And then she laughed softly.

  The text of the case Will had given her materialized in her mind’s eye, word for word. The first element of a successful imminent peril defense was that the defendant must, in fact, have acted out of an honest, bona fide belief that she was in imminent danger. Check. Second, the belief must have been reasonable in light of the facts as they appeared to her. According to the Pennsylvania Supreme Court, the first element was wholly subjective; the second, entirely objective.

  “I wasn’t planning to kill you today, too,” the man said in a soft voice. “But plans change.”

  She kept her eyes on the knife. She was pretty sure the death threat objectively satisfied the second element. Saving Merriman’s life would weigh in her favor, too, she realized. It would be helpful to have an eyewitness to the attack. And keeping him alive was the only way to ensure he was held accountable for his crimes.

  The legal analysis concluded, now all that was left was the actual disarming of her assailant. She judged his distance from them to be approximately eight feet. He appeared to be right-hand dominant.

  She glanced at Merriman. He was visibly shaking. She couldn’t count on him to help in any way.

  She let her briefcase slide from her arm to the ground with a soft thud.

  Linghold’s eyes flickered down to the bag for a nanosecond then returned to her face.

  “Mr. X,” Merriman said, the panic rising in his voice, “don’t do this.”

  “Is he serious?” Sasha said to Linghold. “You make him call you Mister X?”

  “The less my clients know, the better,�
� he told her.

  “I guess. But, Mr. X. You could have at least bothered to come up with an alias. Or let them call you the Knitter,” she said, keeping her tone conversational as she stepped forward.

  He was less than seven feet away now.

  Linghold frowned slightly. He quickly smoothed his expression. But it was too late.

  “Oh, that’s right, Dutch was more than happy to tell the police all about the Knitter. And I don’t know for sure that Kevin Marcus rolled over on you, but that’s just a matter of time. He hasn’t lasted this long at Prescott & Talbott without mastering the art of self-preservation, Brady.”

  “How did you—?” Linghold blurted. Then he caught himself. “No matter.”

  “Please don’t do this,” Merriman repeated, his pitch even higher. His voice broke.

  Linghold’s eyes flashed, and he turned his attention to the blubbering CEO. “Shut up,” he said between clenched teeth. “Just be quiet.”

  While Linghold was occupied with Merriman, Sasha took another step forward.

  He turned toward her. “Stop that,” he said, jabbing the knife in her direction for emphasis.

  Control him. Disarm his. Disable him.

  That was the order.

  But controlling him meant getting a wrist lock on his knife hand. All well and good in a training environment. A nice way to get her own hand sliced to ribbons in a parking garage.

  Okay, forget control. Disarm and disable.

  She advanced on Linghold, shouting over her shoulder for Merriman to call for help. Linghold raised his arm to waist level, the knife pointed at her. She didn’t run directly at him but slightly to his right, so the knife was between them.

  As she closed the distance between them, he slashed the knife through the air.

  She sidestepped the blade but instead of grabbing his wrist, she whipped her left hand up, on a diagonal path. She hit the outside of his wrist and chopped the knife out of his grip. The weapon flew to his left, her right and clattered off the hood of Merriman’s car.