Free Sasha McCandless 03 - Irretrievably Broken by Melissa F. Miller Page B

out Naya.
    She pushed the door open and, out of habit, scanned the parking garage. Saw nothing unusual.
    On the other end of the phone, Naya was still griping.
    “Whatever, Mac. Why’s everything gotta be top secret with you? You don’t tell me anything; you don’t tell your boyfriend anything.”
    Suddenly, it hit her: Naya wasn’t mad; she was hurt.
    Sasha squeezed the phone between her shoulder and her ear, unlocked the car door, and tossed her bag inside. She exhaled, long and slow, and cleared her mind before she slid into the car and answered Naya.
    “You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you about Leo because I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I didn’t tell Leo about Lang because he dropped his news on me before I had the chance. I’m trying to process everything, okay? I’m not holding out on you,” Sasha said in a soft voice.
    Naya was instantly placated. Her tone shifted from annoyed to concerned. “Okay. How are you doing, Mac?”
    “I don’t know. Can we talk about Lang for a minute?”
    While she waited for Naya to agree, she started the car and eased it out of the spot.
    “Sure, of course.”
    “We’re a team. If you really object to our representing Lang, we won’t do it. But, I think if you meet with him, you’ll be on board. Especially because of those pictures. Somebody took them and mailed them to Ellen. That someone just might have killed her, right?”
    “Maybe, but, Mac—”
    “Just keep an open mind. Call him and set up a meeting at the office tomorrow morning. After that, I promise, I’ll hear you out. Just hear him out first.”
    Naya sighed. “Fine. Are you coming back to the office?”
    Sasha glanced at the dashboard clock. Almost four-thirty.
    “Not unless I need to.”
    “No, you’re cool. You need to read those discovery responses and give me your comments, but they’re on the system. Do it from home tonight.”
    “Thanks, Naya.”
    “Sure. Take it easy, okay, Mac?”
    Sasha accelerated as the garage ramp dumped her out of the garage and into the early wave of rush hour traffic. She had one stop to make before she went back to her condo.
     

 
     
    CHAPTER 15
     
    Sasha parked halfway up the Steinfelds’ long cement driveway. She rehearsed her pitch as she walked past Bertie Steinfeld’s carefully tended chrysanthemum bushes and mounted the wide stairs to the porch.
    The front door swung open while she was reaching forward to press the doorbell. Bertie stood in the doorway, wiping her hands on a red and pink Vera Bradley apron. Sasha recognized it because she’d bought one of her own, finding it cute and flirty. Connelly, it seemed, found it hilarious.
    “Sasha, what a nice surprise,” Bertie said, beaming. “Come in, come in. I’m making rugelach.”
    Sasha’s blank face gave her away.
    “It’s a cookie, Cookie. I’ll send you home with some. And the recipe, so your young man can make them for you if you like them.”
    Sasha forced a laugh as she stepped into the gleaming hallway, which smelled like lemons and sunshine. “Thanks, Bertie. Is Larry home?”
    “Is he home? Does he ever leave?” She waved toward the closed study door to the right of the hall stairs. “He’s in his office. Go ahead in, while I get my rugelach before they burn.”
    Bertie trotted toward the kitchen in the back of the house, tutting to herself.
    Sasha knocked on the oak door.
    “What is it, Bertie?” Larry yelled from inside.
    Sasha eased the door open and stuck her head in.
    “Hi, Larry. It’s Sasha McCandless. May I come in?”
    Larry looked up from the legal journal he was reading and peered at her over the top of his glasses.
    “Sasha, how good to see you. Of course, come in.”
    He started to push himself up from the desk chair.
    “Please don’t get up.”
    He ignored her and straightened to standing until she’d taken a seat in the pineapple-patterned wing-backed chair in front of his desk.  Larry—who had served in the Israeli Military as a young