Irrevocable Trust (Sasha McCandless Legal Thriller Book 6) (2 page)

“
Are you sure you
’
re okay?
”
he asked.

“
I
’
m fine.
”

They
’
d done everything in their power to secure the office
—
new alarm system, new locks, and new Connelly-enforced rule that Sasha wasn
’
t to work late into the night alone. She knew Will was almost as worried as she and Connelly were, but there was no way to guarantee Bricker wouldn
’
t storm the office.

Or her condo. Or her parents
’
place. Or her hairdresser
’
s salon.

Of course, it was unsettling, not knowing where Bricker was or what he was planning. Every week, the news was the same: Bricker was still out there somewhere, hiding, watching and waiting for a chance to strike. But eventually he
’
d make a mistake.

CHAPTER THREE

Sunnyvale, North Carolina

Officer Vince Fornier scratched his left ear and watched Lilah Stokes
’
face.

He was trying to reserve judgment about the pointless nature of this particular call, but everyone in town knew Lilah was an unrepentant gossip with an overactive imagination
—
and nosy, to boot.

Everybody also knew that it had nearly driven her mad when the Bennett woman and her six kids showed up in town a year and half ago and moved in right next door to her. Allison Bennett was as close-lipped as Lilah was gabby. She kept to herself and never bothered to address any of the rumors swirling around town about her.

Was she divorced? Widowed? A single mother? Did she work? Was she on welfare? Or was she independently wealthy? Nobody knew.

Nobody knew anything about Allison or her kids. They hadn
’
t joined a church, a social club, a sports team, or a volunteer organization since landing in Sunnyvale. She didn
’
t even send her children to school. According to the registrar, she
’
d filed papers saying she was homeschooling them instead.

Most people would have realized the Bennetts were reserved and left it at that. But not Lilah. Allison
’
s reticence had only served to fuel Lilah
’
s curiosity
—
some might even call it an obsession.

In fact just a month earlier, the Bennett woman had called in to report a suspected prowler after her trash cans had been knocked over in the middle of the night. Vince had answered that call, too.

After canvassing her property, he
’
d assured Allison that there was no one hiding in her yard. Despite being sorely tempted, he didn
’
t mention that he
’
d seen Lilah racing into her garage, clutching her robe around her, when he
’
d pulled up.

Now, he just listened as the old busybody explained why she was worried about her next-door neighbor.

“
Are you listening to me, Vincent? I was weeding my begonias when something caught my eye. I looked through the Bennetts
’
living room window and saw a woman
’
s foot and leg sticking out from behind the sofa. I rapped on the glass but the woman didn
’
t move. So, I walked around to the front and rang the bell. No one answered the door.
”

Vince let his eyes drift to the flower bed in question and then return to her face. Surely she knew he could tell just by looking at the layout that she couldn
’
t have seen into the Bennett house from her flower bed.

She
’
d been spying on her neighbor. Again.

She glared back at him.

Finally he said,
“
I
’
m sure she
’
s just resting or something. But I
’
ll check it out. Why don
’
t you go on in and get ready for your card club meeting.
”

“
You never were the brightest of the bunch, Vincent. Who on earth lays down to
rest
on the living room floor? She probably passed out drunk. Or she overdosed on drugs. Or maybe she fell and hit her head
—”

He ignored the insult and raised a calming hand to stem the tide of horrible fantasies she was spewing.

“
Now, Mrs. Stokes, I said I
’
m going over there to check it out. You
’
ve satisfied your civic duty. Go back inside.
”

She shot him a look that could
’
ve curdled milk then slammed the door shut in his face.

He tipped his hat at the closed door and chuckled to himself as he started down the steps to the sidewalk.

He leaned on Allison
’
s doorbell just in case she had fallen asleep, but she didn
’
t answer. He tromped through her freshly mulched bushes and pressed his face up against the glass in the large window. Just as Lilah had described, he saw a shapely pale leg and a bare foot protruding from behind the floral-patterned couch.

Then he spotted the glossy red slick of blood seeping into the carpet beside the woman
’
s leg. A lot of blood.

His heart leapt into his throat, and he fumbled for his radio until he remembered the Chief was out of town, taking his annual week
’
s vacation up at the lake. He was going to have to handle this on his own.

He tried to force the window up, but it was locked tight and, judging by the layers of paint over the frame, probably painted shut, too. He vaulted, one-handed, over the fence enclosing the backyard, and tried the kitchen door. The screen door swung open right away and the interior door was unlocked.

He forced himself to slow his breathing as he drew his gun and searched his memory for the proper technique to sweep a house for intruders. It wasn
’
t a maneuver he
’
d had much occasion to use since graduating from the police academy.

He burst into the kitchen and aimed his gun in a smooth arc around the room. Empty.

“
Ms. Bennett? It
’
s Officer Fornier. Are you okay, ma
’
am?
”
he called into the living room. He was pleased and surprised to hear that his voice didn
’
t crack.

She didn
’
t respond. He headed toward the living room.

He hurried over to the body behind the couch and scanned the large room to confirm no one else was there.

As he neared the body, he pulled out his radio to call for the town
’
s ambulance. One look at what was left of Allison Bennett
’
s face was all he needed to know that an ambulance would be futile. He radioed the station and told dispatch to call in the coroner instead.

Then he crouched on shaky legs beside the corpse. Her long, straight hair fanned out behind her. Someone had beaten her so ferociously that what was left of her face had caved in on itself. Her cheekbones flattened and smashed. Dark blood caked her hairline. To confirm what he already knew, he placed two fingers on the inside of her limp wrist. She had no pulse.

Bile rose in his throat and he stood quickly, gulping for air. The cloying scent of blood heated by the afternoon sun filled his nose. Sweat beaded his brow as he struggled to regain his composure.

He had to get out of there.

Secure the scene
.

He raced out of the room and began to move methodically from one room to the next, searching every closet, corner, and behind every curtain. He checked the basement and even lowered the pull-down access to check the attic crawl space.

Once he
’
d satisfied himself that he was alone in the home except for a dead woman, he reluctantly forced himself to go back toward the living room. His heavy footsteps echoed through the still house as he walked slowly down the hallway.

He hovered just outside the doorway into the room. Procedure required him to wait for the coroner, but he sure as heck didn
’
t want to have to look at Allison while he waited. He already knew her ruined face was going to haunt his dreams.

The sound of childish laughter in the backyard caught his ear. He hurried to the kitchen door and peered through the glass.

The Bennett children were tromping through the yard. The tallest two were in the front, carrying a cooler between them. Behind them, the middle two wrestled with three fishing rods apiece. And the little two brought up the rear, shouting and hooting.

He raced outside and skidded to a stop just outside the door.

The two oldest kids froze mid-step at the sight of a police officer running out of their home. They let the cooler fall to the ground with a thud.

The other four children eyed him with varying degrees of curiosity and fear.

He cleared his throat and tried to think of something reassuring to say.

Lilah, bless the old bat, saved him.

She opened her door and called over the fence,
“
I just made a batch of brownies. I don
’
t suppose anyone over there wants to help me eat them?
”

The little ones squealed and headed for the gate.

“
Wait,
”
the girl with the fishing rods yelled after them.
“
We have to check with Mom first!
”

Vince found his voice.

“
It
’
s okay. You kids go on over to Mrs. Stokes
’
place. Go on, now. Get.
”

The middle two, hesitated, but placed the rods on the ground.
”

“
Go ahead,
”
the oldest girl told them.
“
We
’
ll be over in a minute.
”

After they walked away and closed the gate behind them, the remaining two children stared at Vince expectantly.

He tried to keep his expression neutral, devoid of any hint of the horror that waited inside the house.

“
What
’
s going on?
”
the boy demanded.

Vince shuffled his feet and tried to decide whether they were old enough that he could just tell them a sanitized version of the truth. But he was a terrible judge of kids
’
ages. They could have been anywhere between twelve and eighteen. He eyed them again. He was pretty sure the boy was the older of the two.

“
How old are you and your sister, son?
”

“
I
’
m sixteen and a half, officer. She
’
s almost fifteen.
”

The kid answered right away, in a serious voice, like he knew what Vince was thinking and wanted to convince him they were adult enough to handle whatever he had to say.

Vince wasn
’
t so sure about that. His stomach was still turning from the sight of their beaten mother.

The girl squinted at him hard and twirled a strand of hair around her finger, wrapping it tighter and tighter as she stared at him.

“
So, uh, you guys catch anything?
”
He gestured toward the fishing poles and cooler.

“
No. A couple small mouths and a sunny. Too small. We threw them back,
”
the boy answered in a clipped, but polite, tone.

He threw his sister a meaningful look.
“
Hey, Brianna, why don
’
t you put the fishing gear up in the shed?
”

She glared back at him for a long moment.

Vince couldn
’
t read the look that passed between them, but it was clear they were having an entire, possibly heated, conversation without saying a word.

“
Fine.
”
She forced the word out from between clenched teeth and stomped off toward the abandoned rods.

The boy waited until she hoisted the poles over her shoulder and disappeared into the small white shed. Then he fixed Vince with a grim look.