windshield, watching the leaves moving in the breeze, and the shifting sunlight and shadow on the mowed grass. It was so strange to be in Bakerton again. The Pennsylvania terrain was burned into her brain, the hills and trees just like Brandywine Hunt, in the woods.
Sasha’s thoughts floated on a pharmaceutical cloud, back in time to that Saturday night with Luiz, when they’d had sex, then loaded and unloaded the gun. She’d decided that she definitely didn’t leave a bullet in the gun. She’d become absolutely sure over time. She was pretty sure now. She’d run into Luiz last year, and he owned an export business with offices in New York and Rio. The sex had been phenomenal. Again.
Sasha would love to talk to him again. He was even good at phone sex. He’d speak to her in Portuguese. She picked up her phone and scrolled through the names, numbers, and country codes.
She pressed CALL.
CHAPTER 53
Julian Browne
BROWNE LAND MANAGEMENT read the sign, and Julian drove into the parking lot, took the space next to his father’s blue Maserati Quattroporte, and got out of the car. Browne had expanded over the years, taking over the Chester Springs Corporate Center, a modern tan brick complex with a lunchroom, a gym, and a day care center, which had been his father’s idea, since his latest wife had a little girl. The marriage, his father’s fourth, was already on the rocks. Had probably started on the rocks. Julian retained his primacy as the first son, having gotten in on the ground floor, family-wise. He never bothered getting to know his father’s wives because they were like booster rockets that soared in the early stages, then fell back to earth after fulfilling their purpose. To get his father up.
Julian hustled into the entrance, the proverbial spring in his step since he was in love with Sasha all over again, even though he had everything he wanted sexually since he’d moved beyond voyeurism. He could see that what happened with Kyle had changed her. She’d lost her direction and her self-confidence, but he still couldn’t wait to see her later. The whole mess with Kyle hadn’t changed him at all, except for the better.
He entered the building and strode along the air-conditioned hallway past a framed lineup of Browne properties, blueprints, and awards like Best Single-Family Home; Best Architectural House Plan, Condo; Best Architectural House Plan, Townhome; Best Builder Marketing Campaign; Best Builder Direct Mail Piece; and many others except Best Builder, which Toll Brothers won every year, driving his father crazy. One day, Julian hoped Julian Browne Land Management would win.
He reached his father’s suite at the end of the hall, stopping at the secretary’s desk. “Hey, Karen, how are you?”
“Good, thanks, Julian. He’s waiting for you. Go on in.”
“Thanks.” Julian opened the door to find his father on his phone as he stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, surveying the artificial lake on the north side of the campus. He always wore a pressed shirt with a striped Dunhill tie and a tailored Brioni suit, and his jacket would be hung on a wooden hanger on the back of the door. He’d gained weight, but it only made him look more prosperous. His hair was thick and black, silvering only at the temples, and his eyes remained intensely brown. He had crow’s-feet, but he was always sunburned, so he looked healthy, not old. He’d had his teeth veneered, and his latest wife wanted him to get injections. He hung up the phone, and Julian knew he was up to his usual hijinks, since he was using one of his burner phones, which he called his boner phones.
“Hi, Dad.” Julian sat down opposite his father’s desk, a polished sheet of glass stacked with papers and a laptop.
“You’re late.” His father frowned, setting the boner phone on the desk with three other cell phones.
“Sorry, I was at a funeral.”
“Explain these T & E expenses from last quarter. Because they’re way out of line.” His father tossed a stack of printouts toward Julian, and on top was a spreadsheet of travel and entertainment deductions from Julian Browne Land Management.
“How did you get my T & E numbers?” Immediately Julian burned with a familiar resentment.
“That’s not your business.”
“Dad, literally, it is my business. Julian Browne Land Management is my company.”
“Correction. It’s a wholly owned subsidiary of my company. It’s part of the Browne family of companies, and if you think Tim’s not going to give me numbers when I