Inadvertent Disclosure (25 page)

“Sure thing,” Connelly said.

“Why Leo?” Sasha asked.

“It was Dr. Brown’s suggestion.
Apparently, Dr. Spangler became agitated to learn that a federal agent was
present last night. She asked Dr. Brown several pointed and, as he described
it, panicky questions about who Agent Connelly was, which government agency
employed him, and how he was connected to the incapacitation matter. Dr. Brown
may be afraid of Dr. Spangler, but he seems to think she’s afraid of Agent
Connelly.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sasha was drying her hair when
she heard the apartment door creak open and then shut. She watched through the
bathroom window as Connelly climbed into his car on the street below and sped
away from the curb without having said goodbye.

Fine, let him pout. She still
couldn’t believe it.

In the middle of everything—a
murdered judge, an undercover EPA agent, an incapacitated client, a new friend
in the cardiac care unit—Connelly had decided it was the appropriate time to
start a conversation about where their relationship was headed.

She’d hung up with Dr. Kayser
ready to take action. She would shower and head to the courthouse while
Connelly babysat Jed.

She’d downed what remained of
her lukewarm coffee in a single large gulp and grabbed her toiletries from her
overnight bag. As she’d hurried past Connelly with her hands full of shampoo,
shower gel, and lotion, he’d reached out and put a hand around her waist.

“Mac, slow down a second,” he’d
said.

“Is something wrong?” she’d
asked, her leg jittering and her voice impatient.

“We need to talk.”

The serious way he’d said it
had worried her. So, she’d allowed the bottles to tumble from her arms onto the
table and had taken his hands in hers.

“What is it?” She’d searched
his face for a clue but found none.

“I know this probably isn’t the
best time,” he’d begun, not meeting her eyes, “but I need to know.”

“Need to know what?”

“Sasha, what are we doing
here?”

She’d wrinkled her brow at the
question, and, unbidden, her mother’s voice had filled her head, sounding a
warning about frown lines.

“What are we doing here?” she’d
repeated, baffled. “I’m going to go to the courthouse and pull some documents I
think might shed some light on the case before the judge. I thought you were
going to go give Dr. Brown moral support and then make sure Spangler stays away
from Jed. What am I missing?”

“No. What are we doing here? 
I’ve told you, more than once, I love you. I’m in love with you, Sasha. But,
your response to that is . . .nothing. A smile or a kiss. I feel like my life,
my career, everything is in suspended animation waiting for you to tell me how
you feel.”

Was he serious? He wanted to do
this
now
?

She’d waited until the blood
pounding in her ears like a wave had subsided, then had said, “Connelly, I care
about you. We have a good thing, a really good thing, I think. But, now is not
the time. I’m sorry, it’s just not.”

To his credit, he’d nodded.

“You’re right, I know. But when
is the time, Sasha?  When are you going to answer me?  You owe me at least
that.”

She’d nodded right back and
said, “That’s true, I do. But, I can’t even think about us right now with
everything going on. You don’t want to back me into a corner. Trust me.”

“It’s not an ultimatum; it’s a
question.”

She’d stretched up onto the
tips of her toes and kissed him. “And I’ll answer it. I promise.”

Then she’d gathered her
bathroom supplies from the table and had gone into the bathroom and closed the
door before she could say something she’d regret.

Now, as she brushed her unruly
curls into obedience, she shook her head at herself in the mirror. She didn’t have
time for this nonsense.

Someone had murdered a judge,
and Chief Justice Bermann was counting on Sasha to find out who and why. Jed
Craybill may have been poisoned by his doctor and was counting on Sasha to get
him out of her hands. Drew Showalter was desperately waving a flyer about
Heather Price in her face.

She’d be damned if she’d let
her very real responsibilities disappear into a cloud of hearts and flowers.

CHAPTER 36

Sasha covered the short
distance from the Burkes’ home to the courthouse at a good clip. Her heels
tattooed a staccato rhythm against the pavement that almost kept pace with her
racing thoughts.

She’d put the scene with
Connelly out of her mind entirely. If there was one trait she considered a
strength, it was her ability to compartmentalize. When she was focused, it was
impossible to distract her. Growing up, her brothers had viewed it as a
challenge to try to get her attention when she was engrossed in a task. It had
never worked. It had occasionally backfired, like that time Patrick had
accidentally set the shed on fire. She allowed herself a small smile at the
memory.

She’d keep her promise to
Connelly and give him an answer when she could, but right now she had other
questions that needed answers.

She checked the time. It was
just almost eight o’clock. Naya would be in the office by now. She hit Naya’s
number, programmed into her phone, and the legal assistant answered on the
second ring.

“Mac, how’s it hanging?”

Sasha could hear the printer in
Naya’s office churning out paper.

“Are you busy?”

“A little bit. Saving yet
another junior associate’s ass. Someone didn’t realize his complaint needed to
be verified. Just got a pdf of in-house counsel’s signature and I’m working
some last-minute arts and crafts magic before I walk this puppy over to the
courthouse.”

“Okay, I’ll keep it short. Is
anyone at P&T pulling mineral leases up in Clear Brook County?”

Sasha assumed her former
employer would be up to its elbows in hydrofracking work, but she hadn’t
recognized any of the oil and gas suits warming the hall benches as Prescott
attorneys. In itself, that didn’t mean anything, though, because she hadn’t
really dealt with too many transactional attorneys while at the firm, and the
ones she did know were mid-level associates or higher. If Prescott &
Talbott was sending bodies to Springport, they’d be newly minted lawyers,
paying their dues.

Naya laughed. “Hell, yeah. It’s
a rotating assignment. And this month, the lucky winner is Jessie Stewart.”

The name didn’t ring a bell.

“Do you know anything about
her? Or him?”

“It’s a her. Jessica Stewart
graduated in the top five percent of her class at Pitt. Daddy was fraternity
brothers with Cinco himself. She’s got short blond hair and a developing
nicotine addiction. Usually see her at my nine-fifteen smoke break. She’s
already down there, almost done with her morning cig.”

“Naya, you need to quit.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway,
that’s the book on Jessie.”

“Is she, uh, a stickler for the
rules?”

“Doesn’t seem to be. I don’t
know her well. Why?”

“Oh, I need somebody to pull a
lease for me.”

“You doing mineral rights work
now?”

“No, don’t you read the paper,
Naya? You’re talking to the Special Prosecutor assigned to investigate Judge
Paulson’s murder.”

“Yeah? I’ve been under the gun
for about a week. Marcus is going to trial, the pro bono guys are filing a
petition with the U.S. Supreme Court, and dumbshit junior associates have been
forgetting to get their complaints verified. I
did
hear your name being
tossed around, come to think of it, but I just assumed it was your usual
notoriety, not any new celebrity. Well, rock on, sister.”

Sasha laughed. She had left
Prescott & Talbott under unusual conditions, to say the least. According to
Naya, it had made her a bit of a legend.

“So, when are you going to take
me up on my offer, Naya?”

Naya had an open invitation to
join Sasha as her legal assistant.

Naya said, as she always did,
“Mac, you know you can’t afford me.”

She was right. It wasn’t the
salary that was the problem, but there was no way she could match Naya’s
benefits, bonus, and the promise of paid overtime. Not yet, at least.

“Yeah, but I’m more fun.”

“Yes, you are. That’s why I’ll
meet you for happy hour tomorrow. You free?”

“I hope so.”

Sasha had no idea at this point
when she’d be back to Pittsburgh.

“Good. You can bring fly boy.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Morning,” Sasha greeted the
deputy at the entrance.

It wasn’t Russell, but a
younger guy, whose hair curled down almost to his shirt collar. She’d never
seen him before.

“Ma’am,” he said, touching the
brim of his hat with two fingers.

She hoped Russell was at the
hospital, checking on Gloria. She didn’t care if she ran into Stickley, because
he struck her as lazy enough that he wouldn’t bother to inquire into what she
was doing, but Russell would ask questions. Questions she wasn’t prepared to
answer.

She paused to look at the
framed photograph of the open-eyed Lady Justice that hung near the directory
and then pushed through the door leading to the stairs. She took them two at a
time, running her hand along the smooth polished banister and planning her next
move.

She loitered in the hallway
until the Prothonotary’s Office opened its doors to the public at eight-thirty.
While she waited, she couldn’t help think of Naya and her introduction to the Prothonotary’s
Office.

It might have been Sasha’s
third day of work when Naya had hauled her over to the Allegheny County
Prothonotary’s Office.

“Listen,” Naya had explained,
after she’d introduced Sasha to the clerks and walked her through how to use
the office’s on-line document retrieval system at the computer terminal near
the door, “it’s my job to traipse over here and pull whatever stuff you need to
have pulled or to file whatever stuff you need to have filed. It’s your job to
understand how the office works, so you don’t send me over here looking for
stuff that doesn’t exist. Got it?”

Sasha had nodded.

“And don’t you ever send me
over here with pleadings that don’t conform to the rules. No excuses. Your
crappy papers get kicked and these clerks will bust a gut laughing because a
lawyer from the high-and-mighty Prescott & Talbott screwed up.”

Sasha had nodded again.

Then, Naya had said, “Any
questions?”

“Just one. What the hell’s a
prothonotary?”

And with Harry S. Truman’s
famous question, posed to the Allegheny County Prothonotary during a 1948
campaign stop, Sasha had won some small measure of Naya’s respect. She might
have been a wet-behind-the-ears attorney, but at least she had some
understanding of history and a passable sense of humor.

Sasha smiled at the memory.
Prothonotary was a pretty impressive-sounding title for a clerk of court, but
that’s how the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania rolled.

The doors opened, and she
hurried inside. The public terminal was just inside the door, and one of the
clerks had already started it up. The cursor blinked, waiting for her to start
her search.

Sasha searched the Orphan’s
Court records and found all the cases in the past three years in which Dr.
Spangler had been appointed guardian of an incapacitated person. It wasn’t the
ninety that she’d testified to, but it was a good number of them. Picking
thirty at random, Sasha pulled up the docket sheets and printed off the
defendants’ addresses.

She walked through the quiet
office to the counter to pay her bill and collect her printouts.

The clerk looked at her over
her half-glasses. “You 104765?” she asked, reading Sasha’s Pennsylvania bar
number off the summary sheet.

“Yes, ma’am.” Sasha was more
than willing to be nothing but a number to this woman, what with the unofficial
nature of her investigation.

“Let’s see. That’ll be
twenty-two dollars even. Is there a firm account you’d like to charge it to?”

Tempted though she was to
charge it to Braeburn’s firm, she shook her head. “Cash okay?”

“Always.”

Sasha handed over a twenty and
two ones, and the woman gave her the pile of printouts and a receipt.

“Thanks,” Sasha said.

“You bet.”

From the Prothonotary’s Office,
she headed straight for the makeshift waiting area, or holding pen, for the oil
and gas suits outside the Recorder of Deeds’ Office. It wasn’t yet nine a.m.,
but the hallway was already standing room only.

She edged her way onto the
fringe of the group but took care not to make eye contact with anyone. She
summoned her shallow reserve of patience and let the snippets of conversation
wash over her, not really listening, while she waited. She passed the time
skimming the printouts. She’d give them a closer read through later.

At nine o’clock, she put the
stack of papers away and started watching the suits.

At four minute past the hour, a
serious-looking younger woman with short blonde hair leaning against the wall
across from Sasha and down a bit began to fidget. She tapped her long,
unpolished nails against the wall and stared at the deli counter display as if
she were willing the numbers to change.

At seven minutes, she started
to jiggle her leg.

Ninety seconds later, she
grabbed her purse from the floor beside her and took off toward the ladies’
room.

Sasha waited until she was
almost to the restroom door then followed after her. By the time she pushed
through the door, the young woman had already pushed open the screenless window
and was perched on its wide sill, blowing her cigarette smoke out into the
alley.

The girl’s head spun toward the
door, guilt splashed across her face.

Perfect.

“Don’t mind me,” Sasha said. “I
won’t rat you out.”

The girl sighed. “Oh, thanks. I
just need a quick drag.”

She returned her attention to
her cigarette, careful to keep the ash outside the window.

Sasha moved to the sink and took
a lipstick from her purse.

“Who wouldn’t? I mean what an
assignment, cooling your heels outside the Recorder of Deeds Office.”

After a deep drag, she
answered. “Tell me about it. I thought I’d be negotiating deals and this is
what I’m doing. Don’t get me wrong, the pay’s good, but the work’s
soul-crushing, you know?”

Sasha made a sympathetic
clicking noise with her tongue. “Oh, I know, all right. I used to work at a big
firm in Pittsburgh.”

“Hey, I’m from Pittsburgh,” the
girl said.

Sasha opened the lipstick and
considered her reflection. She waited until she caught the girl’s eye in the
mirror.

“Wait a minute, you’re Jessie
Stewart, aren’t you?”

She worked the tube around her
lips.

“That’s right? Do I know you?”

Jessie crushed the cigarette
against the window sash, then flicked it through the open window to the alley
below. Then, she hopped down and came over, her hand extended to shake.

Sasha rubbed her lips together
and returned the lipstick to her purse, then turned and took Jessie’s hand.

“Well, we’ve never met, but we
used to work at the same place. Sasha McCandless.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re Sasha
McCandless? I thought you looked familiar.”

The awe in her voice made Sasha
want to laugh, but she needed to cash in on her fame, such as it was.

“In the flesh.”

“What are you doing here?”

Didn’t anyone read the
newspaper anymore?

“I’m working on Judge Paulson’s
murder investigation.”

Jessie looked dutifully
impressed. “You do criminal law, too?”

“Sometimes. Hey, would you like
to help out?” She said it casually.

Jessie’s entire face
brightened. “Really? Like, how?”

“Like, when your number gets
called, while you’re pulling whatever deeds Prescott wants, you could also pull
a few for me.”

A glint of interest shining in
her eyes, Jessie nodded. “Okay, sure. Do you have the property descriptions?”

Sasha took out the stack of
printed addresses. On the top sheet, she’d written the address of the VitaMight
distribution center.

“Okay, I need thirty-one. Can
you do that many?”  Naya’s boot camp had been limited to training her in the
prothonotary’s office and the federal clerk of court’s office. She had no idea
if the deeds were computerized, on microfiche, or bound up in dusty leather
volumes tied with string.

Jessie frowned. “I dunno.
That’s a lot.”

“Well, get what you can. What’s
your ticket number?”

She pulled the deli ticket from
the pocket of her trousers and read it off. “218. Probably won’t get in until
just before lunchtime.”