Free Indispensable Party (Sasha McCandless Legal Thriller No. 4) by Melissa F Miller Page B

human
beings who are utterly dependent on me.”
    “Don’t you ever see yourself
having kids?”
    Sasha wasn’t sure how to answer. “Maybe,
I guess. Sometimes. When I’m reading a book with Daniella or helping Liam work
on a science project, I think about how amazing it must be to have that
relationship. But, right now? How would that work?”
    Connelly didn’t answer.
    “What about you? Do you want
kids?” As she asked the question, she realized she had no idea what his answer
would be. They’d never discussed it.
    “Yes.” He said it immediately and
decisively.
    “Oh.”
    She returned to filling her order
and turned this new information over in her head.
    “What are you thinking?” he
pressed.
    “I’m trying to decide whether to
get Naya a cashmere sweater or a boxed set of Law & Order DVDs,” she lied.
    She felt his eyes on her but didn’t
look up.
    “Watch the road, Connelly.”
     
    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
     
    When they reached the office,
Naya was waiting for them with a tray of wraps from the coffee shop downstairs.
And, more importantly, a carafe of fresh coffee. Connelly beelined for the
food; Sasha went straight to the caffeine source.
    Naya shook her head. “How about
some lunch, Mac? Jake had the kitchen make you a brie and green apple sandwich.”
    “Brie and apple?” Connelly said
around a mouthful of roast beef.
    Naya shrugged. “She claims it’s
good. I haven’t tried it.” She plucked a turkey and Swiss wrap from the tray.
    “I’ll eat later,” Sasha said. She
couldn’t eat now—she’d never been able to eat when stress hormones were
flooding her body. It had made her first year of law school a bit of a
challenge.
    “Suit yourself,” Naya said. She
handed Sasha a manila folder. “Here. This is what I’ve managed to find on your
girl. Well, maybe your girl.”
    Sasha flipped the folder open. A
copy of the personnel file records were clipped to the front of the folder
along with a picture of an unsmiling Celia Gerig. Naya had crossed through the
information they knew to be inaccurate with a thick black marker. The social
security number was highlighted, along with the woman’s educational background.
    “What’s the rest of this?” Sasha
asked, leafing through printouts of what appeared to be threads from an
Internet chatroom. “This Preppers Pennsylvania stuff?”
    “I couldn’t find any property
records or other public records in her name or social, but I ran some Google
searches. She’s not on Facebook, Twitter, or Google+, unless she uses a
pseudonym, but I found a ‘cgerig’ on a prepper forum, posting on a
Pennsylvania-specific sub-forum—Preppers PA. This ‘cgerig’ uses an avatar of
the American flag, not a profile picture, so I can’t say for sure it’s your
girl, but it if is…” Naya trailed off, shaking her head at the thought.
    Sasha looked up at her. “What’s a
prepper?”
    Connelly abandoned his sandwich
and came to peer over Sasha’s shoulder at the papers.
    Naya’s voice lacked its usual
confidence when she answered. “I haven’t had a lot of time to dig into it, but
I think preppers are survivalists. They’re all about preparing for catastrophe
and being self-reliant if—or, I guess they think, when—the government
collapses.”
    Connelly nodded his agreement.
    Sasha remained confused. “So, I
have a case of bottled water and a flashlight in my hall closet. Am I a
prepper?”
    Connelly shook his head. “These
people are a bit more enthusiastic about it than that. They have secure
locations set up in remote areas; they stockpile nonperishable food, clothes,
antibiotics, gasoline, ammunition and weapons, you name it.”
    Naya chimed in, “Yeah, this
cgerig was posting looking for a good source for vacuum-packed heirloom seeds
in case she has to bug out and leave her vegetable garden behind.”
    “Bug out?”
    Naya laughed. “I picked up some
of the lingo. When SHTF—uh, that’d be when the shit hits the fan—a prepper
needs to decide