Sasha McCandless 03 - Irretrievably Broken Read Free Page A

former Prescott & Talbott attorney handling this, especially one who seems to thrive in the spotlight. Speaking personally, I hope you’ll consider taking on the matter because I believe you can help Greg.”
    He met her gaze, unblinking, and she felt sorry for him. Leave it to Prescott & Talbott to send Will to carry its water. She wondered if the gobs of money he earned really outweighed the psychic cost of selling his soul.
    She sipped her wine.
    “Oh,” Will said, like he’d forgotten a minor detail, “the partnership also voted to pay for Greg’s legal defense out of what would have been Ellen’s next guaranteed draw. We will, of course, pay your standard hourly rate, but given the costs involved in defending a homicide, we also have a retainer for you.”
    He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a check. He placed it in the exact center of the table with the type facing her so she could read it easily. It was made out to The Law Offices of Sasha McCandless, P.C., in the amount of three hundred thousand dollars.
     

 
     
    CHAPTER 3
     
     
    Back in her office, Sasha stared down at the check, wondering what the hell she was thinking.
    She had agreed to talk to Greg Lang and make her own assessment of his case. She’d told Will she’d be in touch to let him know if she was going to take Greg on as a client.
    Despite what Prescott & Talbott might have thought of her ability, though, she knew she had no business even contemplating taking on a homicide case. A quick chat with Naya had only served to confirm that Sasha should stay far away from Greg Lang and his murder defense. Naya’s immediate reaction had been that no good could come of dabbling in criminal work, especially given that a Prescott partner was the victim.
    Sasha shook her head and slid the check into her top desk drawer. She didn’t owe Prescott & Talbott anything. If she had wanted to be the firm’s lapdog, she would have accepted its offer of partnership a year ago. But, she did owe Will.
    She stood, stretched, and looked out the window. The sun was gone now; the sky was gray and cloudy, thick with the promise of rain.
    Just get it over with .
    She picked up Will’s heavy, linen business card and turned it over. He’d written Greg Lang’s telephone number on the back in tiny, precise script.
    Not only was the firm paying Greg’s legal costs, it had also posted his $1.5 million bail. As a result, Ellen Mortenson’s accused murderer and estranged husband was awaiting trial from the comfort of their marital home.
    Doesn’t matter. Just call him already.
    Sasha jabbed the numbers into her telephone’s keypad and hit the speaker button. She adjusted her neck, cracking it first on one side and then the other, while the telephone rang.
    Four rings. And then a recorded message—startling because it was in Ellen’s lilting voice:
    You’ve reached the Mortenson and Lang residence. We’re out and about, but leave a message for Ellen or Greg, and we’ll be sure to call you back.
    Sasha waited for the beep.
    “This message is for Greg Lang. Mr. Lang, my name’s Sasha McCandless. I used to work with your wife at —”
    She stopped when the screeching sound of someone picking up the phone filled her ear.
    “Wait, hold on!  Let me turn this thing off!” A man’s voice, agitated.
    She cringed at the metallic shriek that followed.
    Then the man said, “Hello? Ms. McCandless, are you there?”
    “I am.”
    “Oh, good. I have to screen all the calls. Blasted reporters.”
    “I understand. This is Mr. Lang, correct?”
    “Yes.” His voice took on an accusing tone. “Am I on speakerphone?”
    Sasha looked down at the phone on her desk.
    “You are. But I’m alone in my office. I like to have my hands free in case I need to take notes.”
    “Oh. Okay, then.”  He said it reluctantly, as if he’d rather stay offended.
    “As I was saying, I’m a former Prescott—”
    Lang cut her off. “I know who you are, you’re the tiny