Connelly went to check the Frick Building’s parking lot for the attackers’ car.
As soon as the door shut behind him, Naya said, “What’s the deal with this guy? You trust him?”
Sasha thought about it. He pissed her off, but he seemed trustworthy. “I do. I think. Why, does he give you a bad vibe?”
Naya shook her head; her braids snapped against her shoulders. “Not at all. He comes across pretty stand up. It’s just . . .”
“What?”
Naya could read people. She’d take one look at an expert witness and know whether he was going to be brilliant or fall apart on the stand. She was a dangerous poker player, as Sasha had learned during a trial in St. Louis. Whenever there’d been downtime, Naya had dragged her to some riverboat casino where Sasha had nursed watered-down drinks and watched Naya clean up at low-limit hold ‘em.
If Naya told her Connelly was sketchy, she would believe it.
“I don’t know, Mac. He seems decent. But, where’s his partner? I mean, this is an official government investigation he’s running? And, it’s just him? And you? No offense, woman, but I wouldn’t go around investigating a mass murder plot with no backup except a mini-lawyer, fierce as you are.”
Naya had a point. Connelly had balked at calling the police when they found Warner’s body. And Sasha was sort of surprised that he hadn’t suggested reporting the attack at the courthouse. Was he a rogue agent, working outside his authority? And, if he was, then what?
Sasha massaged her temples. Pressed hard with both hands. Counter pressure for the pressure building inside her head. Filled her lungs with air and exhaled slowly.
Naya’s smooth forehead wrinkled in concern. “Know what, Mac? Forget I said anything. Really. I’m gonna get you a cup of coffee, okay? Then, I’m gonna call my mom’s aide and tell her to stay until midnight. That’s as late as she’ll go and I really can’t afford the overnight shift, but I’ll help you all evening, as long as it takes. Okay?’
She leaned over the desk and rubbed Sasha’s arm. “It’s gonna be okay.”
Sasha nodded. “Thank you. I don’t know what we’re getting into though, Naya. I’m not sure it’s safe to get involved.”
“Listen, your federal agent man does have a gun, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you have your karate moves or whatever the hell they are. And, I’m mean as a snake. No fear, baby.”
Sasha surprised herself by laughing.
“Really, Naya, thank you.”
“No problem. Let me get you that coffee. And maybe a sandwich. You look even worse than this morning. Which is saying something, sister.”
She left, and Sasha stared out the window. She had no plan, no direction. Just a vague goal: prevent another plane crash without getting killed in the process. What she needed was a list.
By the time Naya returned with two mugs of coffee and the news that she’d ordered up some lunch, Sasha had drafted a task chart, setting out their perceived next steps in order of priority. Next to each task, she had jotted a set of initials—hers, Naya’s, or Connelly’s—to indicate who was responsible for completing it.
Connelly followed Naya through the doorway, with a Prescott & Talbott mug of his own.
Naya put the coffee on Sasha’s desk. When she saw the chart in front of Sasha, she smiled. “A Sasha McCandless task chart. Now we’re in business.”
She tossed her head in Connelly’s direction, “And I ran into Agent Connelly. I asked reception to get him a visitor’s badge, so he can come and go.”
“The car’s still in the lot. I gave the valet fifty bucks not to have it towed and told him to call me if anyone gets in it.” Connelly said, raising the mug to his lips.
Sasha frowned. “Couldn’t you have someone from your office sit on the car?”
“I’m internal affairs, Sasha. People don’t trip over themselves to work with me. I’m working out of the local field office right now, but it’s just a base. A place to have a desk and a phone.”
Sasha met Naya’s eyes over his shoulder. She shrugged.
“Okay. I made a list of tasks.” She took a long swallow of coffee. “Let’s find an empty conference room, so we can spread out and eat lunch while we work.”