Irrevocable Trust (Sasha McCandless Legal Thriller Book 6) (5 page)

Cole wet his lips and tried to think of the best way to explain the situation.

Brianna beat him to it.

“
Okay, guys,
”
she said in a no-nonsense voice that sounded just like their mom
’
s.
“
Here
’
s the deal. We only have each other now. It
’
s just us. And because we don
’
t have a mom or dad, some people are going to want to take over, try to help us.
”

“
Help is good,
”
Leah said with the wisdom of someone who hasn
’
t yet celebrated her tenth birthday.

“
Help
can be
good,
”
Brianna agreed.
“
But we don
’
t want this help.
”

“
Why not?
”
Leah asked.

Mark exploded.
“
Because we
’
ll end up in foster care or an orphanage or something
—
they
’
ll try to split us up!
”

“
An orphanage? Like in
‘
Annie
’
?
”
Calla asked.

“
Will Daddy Warbucks be our new dad?
”
Hal said, bouncing in his seat.

“
Can we get a dog?
”
Calla added.

Cole threw Brianna a look. They
’
d already lost control of the discussion.
Now what?

“
No dog, no orphanage, and especially no new dad,
”
she told them firmly.

Calla stuck out her lower lip.

Brianna ignored the pouting and continued,
“
We have to be a team. And we have to be very careful. Nobody goes outside without me or Cole.
”

“
Not even to the backyard?
”
Leah asked.

“
Is the backyard outside?
”
Cole said.

“
Yeah.
”

“
Then no,
”
he said, trying to keep his voice even like Brianna
’
s. There was no point in terrifying them, but they had to understand that this was serious.

“
What about food?
”
Mark wanted to know.

“
What about it?
”
he countered.

“
When we run out of food, who
’
s going to go to the store? And who
’
s going to cook? And where are we going to get money to pay for it?
”
Mark
’
s voice began to tremble as the adult concerns that now faced them started to become real.

Brianna held up both hands.
“
Take a deep breath,
”
she soothed. She waited until he did as she said, then she continued,
“
Cole and I are going to take care of everything, we promise. We just need you to help. You have to listen to us and do what we say, okay?
”

She swept her gaze around the table. Four heads nodded in unison.

“
Good,
”
she said.

Mark, at twelve, wasn
’
t as easily satisfied as the three youngest.
“
But what
’
s the long-term plan? We have a plan, right?
”

Cole nodded.
“
Of course, we have a plan. Hank is going to help us.
”

“
Who
’
s Hank? Is he our uncle?
”
Leah wanted to know.

Cole couldn
’
t tell her no, not after she
’
d just heard him tell the busybody next door that he was.
“
Yep, Uncle Hank is on his way.
”

Brianna gave Mark an encouraging smile.
“
See? It
’
s going to be fine.
”
She turned to the others.
“
Now, who wants pizza for dinner?
”

CHAPTER SIX

Jeffrey Bricker
’
s legs were cramping. And he had to urinate.

But he couldn
’
t risk getting up to stretch, let alone relieve himself
—
not until nightfall, when the other campers were sleeping. The state park he
’
d chosen was a good fifty miles outside Sunnyvale, but he had to assume that Anna
’
s body had been found by now and that someone had discovered her real identity. If so, then there would be all-point-bulletins out through the Southeast to be on the lookout for him.

He distracted himself from his discomfort by recounting how flawlessly he
’
d executed his plan
—
and his wife.

It had been simple, really.

He knew Anna better than any other human alive. He knew that eventually she
’
d give in to her longing for a garden. He also knew that the survival tactics he
’
d introduced her to weren
’
t ingrained, not really. If they had been, she never would have left the compound and turned on him. So he surmised that, in her weakness, Anna wouldn
’
t recognize the danger in doing business with someone he knew; he thought she would contact one of the movement
’
s trusted suppliers of heirloom seeds
—
and there were only three major companies who supplied most of the patriot groups. He
’
d been right on both counts.

He
’
d planned to call the owners of all three companies. But he
’
d only had to call the first company on his list. Gary Stevens had fallen all over himself to help. Why wouldn
’
t he? Jeffrey was the hero of the American prepper movement. True patriots through the Western Hemisphere were lining up to help him any way they could.

Stevens was glad to provide Jeffrey with a list of customers who fit his specifications: new customers; female; ordering the largest vault (Anna never could pass up a deal).

It had then been an easy matter to take the list to the public library in Arizona and start typing the names into the Google search bar. He ran the entire list of names and addresses through Google, even though he knew he
’
d hit pay dirt with the third name on the alphabetized list.

Allison Bennett had no Internet footprint. None. She wasn
’
t on Facebook. She had never commented on a blog post. She
’
d never been photographed. And according to publicly available records in the Pape County Recorder of Deeds Office, Ms. Bennett had purchased her home in January of 2013.

Jeffrey was disappointed in how easy she
’
d made it.

After crisscrossing the country through a system of stops on the movement
’
s version of the Underground Railroad, he reached Sunnyvale and scouted out the town.

He
’
d spent two nights sleeping in the shed behind the
‘
Bennett
’
family
’
s house, watching their movements through the small plastic window by day to get a sense of their routines. At dusk, he crept up to the dusty loft at the top of the shed, ate two energy bars, and then bunked down under an old tarp that had been left there.

He
’
d expected to feel some melancholy or longing as he watched his children trot through the backyard, tending the garden and playing tag, but he hadn
’
t.

He
’
d noted with approval that Clay had grown several inches and had become broad-shouldered. Bethany seemed taller, too, and she
’
d gotten braces. Henry and Clara had lost their baby fat. Lacey looked exactly as he remembered her. So did Michael, but when Jeffrey heard him call across the yard to his sister, he was surprised that his middle son
’
s voice cracked. Puberty, already?

He noted the changes in his children clinically, but he felt
…
nothing. Nothing at all.

Until, that is, he saw Anna.

She was hanging laundry out to dry. The spring wind whipped her hair into her eyes and wrapped her long skirt around her ankles.

She looked older than he remembered
—
more gray in her hair, more lines on her face
—
and sadder. But his throat tightened at the sight of her, and, despite her spineless betrayal, he had to fight an urge to go to her and gather her up in his arms.

But Bricker was a disciplined man, and a patient man, so he stayed in his hiding spot and waited for the time to be right.

Very early on the morning of his third day hunkering down in the shed loft, Lacey and Henry came banging into the shed to grab fishing poles and tackle boxes. He watched from under the tarp as they hauled out the equipment. Then he waited until all six kids had lugged the equipment through the yard and disappeared down the hill below, Clay in the lead and Bethany bringing up the rear, with Clara up on her shoulders.

After he could no longer hear their shouts and laughter, he did some jumping jacks and push-ups to get his heart pumping. Then he scanned the shed for potential weapons.

Axe. Hedge clippers. Shovel.

He considered and dismissed each in turn. He found what he was looking for on Anna
’
s potting bench. A small, heavy trowel with a graphite handle. He recognized it as the one she
’
d used back at their old home. He
’
d shoved it in his back pocket and pushed open the door.

He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the crisp, morning air. Then he crept through the backyard toward the kitchen door. As he expected, it was unlocked. He slipped inside, shaking his head at Anna
’
s basic security failures.

He heard the shower running upstairs, so he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table to wait for his wife.

He grinned to himself now, remembering the fear and surprise in her eyes when she
’
d seen him sitting there. He replayed the scene, relishing each moment. Her screams, her mad dash for the living room, the satisfying thumping sound her face made as it collapsed.

He wished he
’
d been able to spend more time with her, afterward. But he
’
d known he
’
d had to hurry. Even at their most disorganized, the federal authorities would be swooping in to scoop up his children by nightfall. Ultimately, he planned to free them from their governmental shackles, too. He
’
d be damned if a corrupt, collapsing government was going to hold his kids hostage indefinitely. But he had a plan to execute in order of priority, and it was time to make his next move.

He slipped out the back door and melted into the woods behind the house.

He hiked at a good clip and set up his temporary camp hastily. He didn
’
t intend to waste much more time in the backwoods of North Carolina. He
’
d eat and rest. Before the first morning light, he
’
d break camp and head for the next stop on the Patriot Railroad. Destination: Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sasha smiled and nodded at Bertie. Her hand-to-hand combat instructor
’
s mother was recounting the plot of a movie she
’
d recently seen, but between the buzz of conversation, the music at full volume, and the traffic rushing by below the balcony, Sasha could hear every third word
—
if that.

Daniel and Chris had been hosting their weekly wine tastings for two months, now, and they
’
d grown from an intimate gathering of close friends to a mad crush of people. Last week
’
s feature in the
City Paper
had only increased their popularity.