Irrevocable Trust (Sasha McCandless Legal Thriller Book 6)

by Melissa F. Miller

  She waved her hand in the direction of her three guest chairs. As if by unspoken agreement, Connelly and Will stepped back and leaned against the wall, leaving the chairs for the others.

  Pulaski claimed the one closest to the judge’s desk. Sasha took the one furthest from Pulaski and tried not to stare at the judge’s attire.

  In her experience, most judges—male or female—wore business attire under their robes. Not Judge Perry-Brown. She was wearing a light red t-shirt that made Connelly’s rattiest shirt look like high fashion. It was worn paper thin, almost bare in spots, which was hardly surprising considering that the faded black letters proclaimed the wearer a member of the “Upper Saint Clair High School Swim Team 1974.” The judge’s t-shirt was literally older than Sasha.

  Once Cole was settled into the chair between Sasha and Pulaksi, the judge leaned forward and rested her tanned forearms on her desk.

  “Okay, people, we’re going to do this without a court reporter. So I’m telling you upfront, Mr. Pulaski—anything we discuss in here and any decisions I make will be considered off the record and unappealable. Got it?”

  Pulaski arranged his face into a hurt expression.

  “Yes, ma’am. But is there some reason that comment is directed solely to me, Your Honor?”

  The judge twisted her mouth into a dour expression.

  “Come on, Andy. Do you really need me to answer that?”

  He didn’t respond immediately, so she continued, “I don’t know Ms. McCandless or Mr. Volmer personally, but I do know that their reputations don’t precede them. You’ve earned a short leash. They haven’t.”

  Pulaski’s face darkened, but he held his tongue.

  “Moving on. I have to say I’m not sure what to do about maintaining the secrecy of your client’s identity, Ms. McCandless and Mr. Volmer. The courts are open for a reason. That said, if you want to make a compelling argument for closing this proceeding, I’m all ears.”

  Sasha and Will exchanged a look.

  They’d anticipated this issue and had spent a considerable amount of time hashing out a response that they, Hank, and the Bennett kids could live with.

  Will nodded to indicate that Sasha should take the lead.

  “Well, Your Honor, to be perfectly frank, the Department of Justice doesn’t share your concerns, or ours. They’ve terminated the Bennett children from the witness protection program.”

  “What?!”

  The judge exploded out of her chair like a firecracker.

  “Justice and Homeland Security are taking the position that Alison Bennett was the protected witness, not the children. She’s gone. So they’re out.” Sasha didn’t sugarcoat the facts.

  Judge Perry-Brown wheeled around to face Connelly.

  “Agent Connelly, tell me your wife’s mistaken.”

  Sasha wrinkled her brow. How did the judge know they were married?

  Connelly nodded solemnly. “I wish I could, Judge.”

  The judge huffed. “So now what?”

  “The Bennett children don’t want to remain in hiding, Your Honor. The older kids have discussed it amongst themselves. What they hope happens is that this court terminates Jeffrey Bricker’s paternal rights and allows them to continue to live under their new identities but not under the strictures of the witness protection program, obviously. So they have no objection to the hearing going forward in open court.”

  The judge turned and blinked, owl-eyed, at Cole.

  “Is that accurate, son?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  There was a long pause. The judge appeared to be weighing her options.

  Pulaski cleared his throat.

  “If I may, Your Honor. I have some information that may clarify your path forward.”

  “What’s that, Counselor?”

  “I received a telephone call from my client a few days ago. He doesn’t want to contest the termination of his parental rights.”

  Sasha felt her mouth hanging open and clamped her jaw closed.

  “I beg your pardon, Andrew?” The judge turned to Pulaski, confusion painted across her face.

  Pulaski shrugged.

  “That’s what he said.”

  Cole was the one who had the presence of mind to ask the obvious question. “What’s the catch?”

  “He does object to Attorney McCandless serving as trustee of the irrevocable trust.”

  “What?” Will sputtered. “If he’s giving up his parental rights, how does he even have standing to object to anything related to the trust?”

  Pulaski shrugged again and spread his hands wide. “How should I know? Do I look like an estates and trusts lawyer?”

  The question may have been hypothetical, but the answer was no. Marsh Alverson was the quintessential estates and trusts lawyer. And Pulaski and Marsh didn’t look to be of the same species, let alone the same profession. But the judge didn’t let that distract her.

  “You’re a member of the bar, Andrew. And you’re advancing a position. So argue it.”

  Panic flashed in Pulaski’s eyes.

  “I can’t, Your Honor. I’m out of my depth here. And, frankly, I’m going to need some time to prepare.”

  “Nice try. I’m not granting you any time to do anything. We’re marching back out there, and I’m disposing of the parental rights issue. Then you all are going right back on Judge Kumpar’s docket. You’re his problem from here on out; not mine.”

  The judge walked over to Cole and crouched in front of his chair.

  “Now if I terminate your father’s parental rights, you and your siblings are well and truly on your own. You’re too young to take on the responsibility for your own care, let alone theirs. Is there anyone—a relative, a friend, anyone—who can take you all in, at least temporarily?”

  Cole blinked furiously but didn’t speak.

  “Son?” the judge prodded him.

  Sasha knew he was worrying that the judge would send them all into the foster care system. She shared his fear.

  “No,” he finally mumbled.

  “Judge Perry-Brown,” Connelly said, “we’ve been staying with the kids. We’re happy to continue to do so as long as it takes to sort this out.”

  The judge shot Sasha and Connelly an unreadable look.

  After a moment’s silence, she said, “Is that okay with you, Cole?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Gratitude flooded the boy’s face. Sasha thought she saw tears welling in his eyes. She held her breath and waited for the judge to speak.

  “That settles it, then,” the judge said.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Judge Perry-Brown gave Sasha, Will, and Pulaski just enough time to reassemble at their table before she swept into the courtroom and resumed the session.

  Everyone bobbed up, and she instructed them to sit.

  Once the court reporter indicated that she was ready to start recording the session, the judge squared her shoulders and locked eyes with Cole.

  “After a session in chambers, the parties have resolved the outstanding motion to terminate parental rights as follows: Mr. Bricker’s counsel represents that his client does not contest the termination of his parental rights with regard to the six minor Bennett children. Accordingly, it is so ordered that, effective immediately, Mr. Bricker’s parental rights are hereby terminated. The effect, if any, of said termination on the disposition of the estate of Allison Bennett is reserved for determination by the probate court. Finally, this Court finds that the minor Bennett children are currently being adequately cared for by Attorney McCandless and Mr. Connelly and finds that arrangement is not to be disturbed, either by Children and Youth Services or any other entity. I’ve contacted Judge Kumpar’s chambers and advised him of the time-sensitive nature of this matter. His deputy assures me that Ms. Bennett’s probate will be expedited.”

  The judge paused and looked down at the court reporter.

  “Off the record.”

  The woman’s fingers paused mid-
air.

  “Ms. McCandless, Mr. Volmer, this Court thanks you for your service. Mr. Bennett, I wish you and your siblings the very best. Mr. Connelly and Ms. McCandless, as the mother of two grown sons, the Court wishes you much luck.” The judge’s smile faded. “Mr. Pulaski, submit your paperwork for reimbursement through the clerk’s office.”

  Will pumped his fist in silent victory. Sasha knew how he felt. The judge’s stilted words had sent a thrill of excitement through her.

  A glance to her left revealed that they sent something more akin to a wave of revulsion through Pulaski, but seeing as how he was so revolting to the rest of the world, she figured that was just karma catching up to the Big Gun.

  She twisted in her seat and caught Connelly’s eye. He was grinning—a giant smile that stretched across his face and made his eyes all squinty and crinkly. Beside him, Cole wore an equally goofy smile. As soon as he noticed her looking at him, Cole yawned as if he were bored. She threw him a wink.

  The rest of the gallery seemed to be completely unaffected by the decision. They just shifted in their seats and waited for Bev to call the next case. All except the Army jacket man—he was already bolting through the door to the hallway.

  .

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Sasha led the small group down the stairs, their excited chatter combining with the clatter of their footsteps to create an echoing din.

  Even in the afterglow of the judge’s decision, caution was foremost in their mind.

  “I’ll go get the car and bring it around. You wait here,” Will offered as soon as they emerged from the stairwell into the worn lobby, with all its faded glamour.

  “I’ll come with you,” Connelly said in a tone that didn’t invite disagreement.

  The last thing they needed was for Bricker to overpower Will and use him as leverage.

  Connelly gave a half-salute to his new friend at the scanner and hurried off with Will.

  “Let’s wait over here,” Sasha suggested to Cole, guiding him to a bench on the protected side of the security line.

  They settled themselves on the bench and sat in silence.

  After a moment, she asked, “How’s it feel?”

  He snapped his head toward hers. “Having no dad, you mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  He considered the question.

  “Good, mostly.”

  “I bet, though, there’s some sadness, too, that it had to be this way, right?”

  She wasn’t really sure how to encourage a teenage boy to share his emotions. She felt self-conscious and awkward.

  He gave her a long, unreadable look. Finally, he shrugged.

  “I dunno.”

  The old-fashioned elevator directly across the way dinged and the doors parted. The small crowd waiting to ascend to the courtrooms on the floors above and have justice dispensed, denied, or more likely delayed, stepped back to let the passengers exit..

  The first person off the elevator was the guy in the army jacket. He pushed aside a slow-moving older man and hurried toward the front of the building.

  A warning pricked at the base of Sasha’s skull. Her gut told her to follow the man.

  But she had to stay with Cole. This was no time to take unnecessary risks.

  A buzz of adrenaline shot through her system, and the skin on her arms pimpled into goosebumps.

  She glanced at Cole.

  “Listen. Don’t move until Leo and Will show up. I’ll be right back, but if they get here before me, just tell them I had to take care of something.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere. Just promise me you’ll stay right here.”

  “Sure.”

  She craned her neck. The guy was almost to the doors. She couldn’t sit here and impress upon Cole how serious she was. She’d miss her chance.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said over her shoulder as she started weaving through the crowd of jurors and court personnel returning from lunch.

  She skirted a woman pushing a double stroller then broke into a jog. The man in the Army jacket pushed through the revolving door that would spit him out on Grant Street.

  She gripped her trial bag against her body and followed him out of the building and down the stairs to the sidewalk. Just before he reached the corner, he made a sudden right and turned into a narrow alley.

  She desperately wanted to stop and take out the knife, but she didn’t dare—she was more afraid of losing him than of wandering into a dark alley without a readily accessible weapon.

  Her heart thrummed in her throat as she stepped into the alley.

  He was walking briskly—like a man with a purpose.

  She hesitated. If she followed too closely her heels clacking against the bricked-over ground would give her away.

  As she was trying to convince herself to move forward, the man looked over his shoulder, as if he’d heard her.

  She shrank back along the wall of the nearest building, flattening herself against the surface and trying not to think about how dirty her cream-colored jacket had to be getting.

  He froze for a moment, then turned back and continued along the alley. Just past a row of dumpsters, he stopped and stepped into a nook between two structures.

  She hoped he hadn’t just gone through a passageway out of the alley. Slowly, silently, she removed her cell phone and the knife from her bag. Then she reclosed the bag and gently set it on the ground. She crept closer to the niche the man had disappeared into.

  I sure hope this isn’t an ambush, she caught herself thinking. Mainly because Daniel would be bitterly disappointed if his star student had allowed herself to be lured into a trap. She’d never hear the end of it.

  “The judge terminated the father’s rights.” A gravelly voice rumbled from within the space.

  “Any other rulings?” A second voice asked.

  She peeked around the corner of the building. The man from the courtroom was standing in front of another man who sat sprawled against a wall. The seated man rose to standing. Her heart seemed to stop for a moment and a chill ran down her spine.

  It was Jeffrey Bricker, no question about it. The silver hair, buzz-cut close to his scalp. The military bearing.

  She pulled back around the corner and listened hard.

  “Uh, I didn’t get the details because they were in her office for part of this, but it sounded like the attorney representing the Bricker guy asked her not to approve the woman lawyer as trustee of some trust.”

  “What did the judge say to that?”

  “She said it wasn’t her decision to make. She was sending them back to the first judge, the one from the other day, to decide.”

  “Now?”

  “No, but she said soon.”

  “What else happened?”

  “Oh, right, the boy and his brothers and sisters are going to stay with the lawyer and her husband until—“

  “What?” Bricker’s rage echoed off the bricks.

  Sasha fumbled with her phone and pulled up her contacts list. She keyed out a message to Connelly and Hank:

  Bricker’s in the alley between Grant and Ross. Hurry.

  Now what? She couldn’t very well call 9-1-1, unless she wanted to reveal herself. But there was no way Bricker was walking out of this alley without handcuffs and leg chains. Not if she had anything to do with it.

  She slipped the phone into the pocket of her suit jacket. Then she shifted the knife from one hand to the other, shaking out her free hands as she did so—first the left, then the right. Her mind raced.

  She had to hold Bricker here until Connelly showed up. He couldn’t slip out of their grasp.

  The homeless man stammered, “That’s what the judge said.”

  “Son of a … what did Pulaski have to say to that? Did that worthless piece of dirt even object?”

  “Um, maybe back in the judge’s chambers—“

  “No. Is that what you’re saying, Pat? No, he didn’t?” Bricker’s voice took on a sharp, c
hilling quality.

  “I don’t know,” the man hurried to clarify. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll kill him.”

  Bricker delivered the threat in an emotionless, almost clinical, way, but it was anything but empty.

  Pat didn’t respond, and, from her hiding spot, she couldn’t see what the two men were doing. What if Bricker hurt Pat? Even worse, what if he fled?

  Stay put. Wait for Connelly.

  Her brain was screaming silent orders.

  But her hand tightened around the hilt of the knife and her legs were moving without permission from her cerebral cortex.

  She stepped into the opening and blocked the only means of egress.

  At the sound of her heels striking the bricks underfoot, both Bricker and Pat turned to stare. The homeless man blinked furiously, as if she were a hallucination that he could clear from his eyes if he tried hard enough. Bricker’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly flattened his expression into a mask of pure anger.

  He looked older, harder, and less polished. His stint in prison and the months of living on the run had etched new lines in his face since she’d seen him last. His eyes were unchanged, though. Icy blue pebbles.

  They stared at each other unspeaking, then his eyes drifted to the knife by her side.

  “You actually brought a knife to a gun fight. It would be funny, if it weren’t so tragic,” he commented, gesturing toward his jacket. He reached inside for his handgun.

  She ignored the jab and calculated the distance between them. Call it twelve, twelve-and-a-half feet.

  Got him. Assuming Daniel was right and she was fast enough, she could take Bricker down before he got one good shot off. Time to move.

  She tensed her thigh muscles and prepared to sprint forward. Then she heard the loud clomp of footsteps in the alley behind her.

  Bricker shifted his eyes from her face to a point over her left shoulder.

  He raised the gun and leveled it, not at Sasha, but behind her.

  “You.” The single syllable dripped with disgust.

  She risked a quick glance to her rear, expecting to see the welcome sight of Connelly and his Glock. Instead, a panting, wild-eyed Cole stood, feet planted wide, a handgun in his shaking hand aimed at his father.