Chapter Eleven
Dalton reached for Blakely’s hand and then linked their fingers as they walked out of the hospital after stopping by the nurse’s stand.
They’d learned that Bethany was resting peacefully and would most likely be out of it for the rest of the night.
The update calmed Blakely’s nerves about leaving her sister alone at the hospital.
He was scratching his head as to how Greg could have walked out before seeing his wife and why the man would have brought the blonde with him. Tacky was the first word that came to mind. Others followed, but he didn’t want to focus on those.
Halfway to his truck in the hospital parking lot, he got the prickly-hairs-on-the-back-of-his-neck feeling.
The one you get when someone is watching you.
A protective arm went around Blakely’s shoulders after dropping her hand.
He pulled her close so the shooter, if there was one, would have a difficult time figuring out where he stopped and she began.
“What is it?” she asked, going with the flow. She must have realized something was off based on his body language.
Dalton surveyed the area. The sun was high in the sky on a late Sunday afternoon, blinding him when he looked in the direction he felt eyes on them. “A bad feeling.”
Blakely froze. “Should we turn around?”
Dalton normally stared danger in the face instead of turning tail. Setting his pride aside, he couldn’t risk a shooter watching them with the sun to his back. Rather than risk her safety, he said, “You go inside, and I’ll grab the truck.”
“Is that safe?” she asked.
“They don’t want me,” he said.
“What if they decide punishing me is better than killing me?” she asked with a vulnerability in her voice that caused his free hand to fist. She had a point.
They had no idea who was doing this and for what reason.
Though, he suspected this was someone she’d given the maximum sentence to while seated on the bench.
Until they had answers, she was right to be cautious. Even then, he wanted her to be cautious.
“I’ll be careful,” he promised before feathering a kiss on her forehead.
Suddenly, he realized they were in public, and this wouldn’t look professional for either one of them.
He cleared his throat and dropped his arm from around her shoulder.
“Go inside and wait by the ER doors. Stand behind a big planter. Okay?”
She nodded before turning and heading inside. For a second, he thought she might argue. The woman had an independent streak a mile long. It was one of many traits that made her sexy as all get out to his thinking. Strong women were sexy. Opinionated women were sexy. Intelligent women were sexy.
Blakely had it all.
Dalton stepped into what he guessed would be the line of fire as she doubled back to the hospital. Once she was in a secure location, he dodged in between vehicles on his way to his truck. Made it safely there.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, he saw a glint of metal in the direction he’d gotten the heebie-jeebies from a few minutes ago.
Keeping a low profile, he hunched down in the seat and then started the engine.
Pulling out of the parking space, he half expected bullets to fly.
Found himself tensing up in preparation for one of those bullets to break his passenger window and lodge itself into his flesh.
Thankfully, none of that happened as he made his way toward the ER bay and then positioned the truck in front of the glass doors, which opened with a swish. Ducking low, Blakely rushed out without a backward glance.
Again, no bullets flew. He’d take that as a win.
“I’m making a call to the nurse’s station to let them know there could be someone out in the parking lot,” she said as she lowered the seat until she was flat on her back.
“Good idea,” he agreed as he mashed the gas pedal before someone came out and yelled at them for being in the ambulance bay.
He didn’t mind getting into trouble. Hell, he’d been in trouble most of his childhood.
What bothered him was the fact someone could get caught in the crosshairs should this bastard decide to fire.
Shoving those thoughts aside, he navigated out of the parking lot as he double-checked his mirrors to make certain no one followed. Once clear of the hospital, he said, “It’s safe to sit up now if you want.”
She finished the call and then brought her seat back up. “I feel much better now that the nurses are aware.”
“It might have been nothing, but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” he agreed.
“I hate that I dragged you into this mess,” Blakely stated.
“Just doing my job,” he said as he pulled up to a red light. Glancing over at Blakely, he added, “And it’s a job I happen to love and am damn good at.”
The corners of her lips tightened in a frown.
“That, you are,” she responded, turning her face away to stare out the passenger-side window. She glanced at the side mirror too. “You’ve kept me alive so far.”
“We make a good team,” he said, not loving the fact he’d been the one to make her frown. Something told him that she didn’t smile nearly enough.
The rest of the ride to the courthouse was spent in silence.
The face of this courthouse wasn’t much to look at.
It was mostly brick and mortar. Inside, by contrast, it was grander.
The courtrooms themselves were smaller than he’d expected on his first visit, but he was used to them now.
He’d been inside judges’ chambers several times throughout his career, each with the same large mahogany desks.
The Texas and American flags flanked leather executive chairs.
Every judge had the same green law-library desk lamp.
Did it remind them of their college days?
When the law was an ideal instead of the reality they carried out every day?
A time when most of the people they encountered were still good, instead of the horrors they came across in the courtroom in a defendant’s chair?
Blakely’s chambers had a wall of books on one side along with a pair of leather chairs that looked comfortable to sit in.
“I hope you understand that I can’t let you sit next to me while I scan files for names,” she said.
“Right,” he said. “Of course. Do you want to talk through the kind of person you might be looking for?”
“I have a few cases in mind where I’ve forgotten details and names, but faces stick out,” she said. “Figured I’d start there and with the ones who sneered at me while I handed down their sentences.”
“Seems like a good place to begin,” he concurred, taking one of the leather chairs that turned out to be as comfortable as it had looked. His cell buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out and then held it up. “I’ll take this while you search.”
Blakely’s full attention was already on the screen that had come to life, casting a glow on her face in the otherwise dim room. She studied the screen, and he was almost certain she hadn’t heard a word he’d said.
His first instinct was the call coming in must be an update about his grandparents. But, no, he didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Marshal Remington,” the familiar voice said. He’d spoken to the investigator at the scene this morning. “Detective Harvey here.”
“Right,” Dalton said. Now he had a name to a voice. “How can I help you, Detective?”
“Got a call from Johnny Spear’s parole officer a few minutes ago,” Harvey said.
“Name doesn’t ring a bell,” Dalton responded as he watched Blakely scroll through case files. Was this what she had been like in law school? Quiet? Studious? Had she been the nose-always-in-a-book type?
“You might want to ask the judge if she knows it,” Harvey continued. “Because there was a paperwork error that led to him being released by mistake.”
Dalton lowered the receiver away from his mouth. “Do you know anyone by the name of Johnny Spear?”
Her lips compressed, and she brought her gaze up and to the right.
“Sounds familiar. But recent.” Her fingers danced across the keyboard.
Then, she dropped her gaze to the screen.
“Oh, wait. Yes. I do remember him. He is recent. I gave him the maximum sentence for murdering his family. He claimed self-defense against his seventy-year-old father.” She looked at Dalton and seemed to realize he still had someone on the line. “Why?”
He held up a finger, telling her to wait.
Had they found their perp?
* * *
“Her Honor knows the individual in question,” Dalton supplied as Blakely waited with bated breath.
She distinctly remembered the threat he’d made as he was being handcuffed and then taken out of the courtroom by the bailiff.
He’d dropped the f-bomb on her, made certain she could see that he was flipping her off despite the restraints and had warned her to watch her back from now on.
She’d taken this as another idle threat.
Hardened individuals weren’t all that happy with her when she handed down maximum sentences, which she only did when the situation warranted.
Keeping honest people safe was the only legitimate reason to take away another person’s rights.
She didn’t take the responsibility lightly.
Still. If she had a nickel for every idle threat she received, she would someday be a very wealthy woman.
“I see,” Dalton said into the phone. “Okay.” He paused a couple of beats. “I’ll let the judge know.” More silence. “I appreciate the information, Detective.”
Blakely had a bad feeling about this.
The second Dalton ended the call, she asked, “What has Johnny Spear done?”
The look on Dalton’s face sent her blood pressure rising. “Turns out, he didn’t show up for his parole appointment.”
“I just sentenced him last month,” she said with an arched brow. “He shouldn’t be eligible for parole.”
“I’m afraid there was a paperwork error,” he explained. “Johnny Spear was released last Tuesday.”
“He didn’t waste a lot of time coming after me,” she said, hearing the shock in her own voice. This wasn’t good. Johnny had been clear with his intentions. “Do they have an address on him?”
“I’m afraid he’s disappeared,” Dalton said. “A BOLO is being issued right now as we speak.”
Before she could respond, her cell buzzed. “Hold that thought.” She grabbed her cell from her handbag and then checked the screen. “This is the nurse I spoke to earlier. I better take this.
“Is everything okay with Bethany?”
“Yes, sorry to scare you,” Nurse Lena said. “There’s a man here with flowers who says he’s a friend of the family. Since your sister isn’t allowed visitors that aren’t blood relatives, I denied access to the room.”
“Did he give a name?” Blakely asked, thinking this didn’t sound so good.
“Dr. Canon,” Lena supplied. What the hell was he doing there? “I can’t let him into my patient’s room.”
“You did the right thing,” Blakely stated, wondering if she should have ignored her former law professor’s text this morning.
The nurse’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s standing here right now asking to speak to you. Should I hand him the phone?”
“Absolutely,” Blakely stated.
Static came through the line.
“You’ve been difficult to reach lately, Miss Adamson,” Dr. Ellery Canon’s familiar voice sounded.
“What are you doing at the hospital?” she asked, ignoring his comment.
“I was worried about you since you haven’t returned any of my calls or texts,” he said like that should be plain as the nose on her face. “Then, your address came up, and I thought something might have happened to you.”
“Oh, right, your scanners,” she said, remembering how often he used to mention that scanners could be useful tools for a lawyer.
The fact he recognized her address when it came up was just creepy.
Blakely remembered overhearing a conversation once between a pair of female students about Dr. Canon.
Midterm test results had come back. The front-row students had commented about their A’s, saying the rumor was true.
All a female student had to do in order to get an A in his criminal law class was to sit in the front row, wear a low-cut blouse and use cleavage to their advantage.
They’d said he was harmless enough, and they didn’t mind giving the old man a thrill.
Even if Blakely wasn’t a 34B, she would never have stooped so low to get a grade.
For better or worse, she’d earned every single alphabet letter on her grade reports and was proud of the fact.
Still. He’d called her one of his prize students, had invited her along with a few male colleagues to his home for dinners a handful of times since graduation and had been a big cheerleader for her career since she’d left college.
“I brought flowers for you,” he said. “But I guess these are for someone else now.”
“The nurse can take them,” she offered, not wanting to offend her former professor. He still had pull in certain circles, and she’d worked for and deserved a clean reputation. She was still too early in her career to make enemies, and the man had never been inappropriate with her.
“I’ll make sure they get to the right place,” Blakely offered. “It’s not necessary for you to stick around.”
“All right,” he said. Right before ending the call, he delivered his favorite line. “See you in court.”
Blakely ended the call with an awkward thank-you.
“Everything all right at the hospital?” Dalton asked, breaking through the thoughts rolling around in her head.
“Yes,” she said, refocusing on him. Her stomach gave a little flip the moment their gazes touched. “My law professor showed up with flowers.”
Dalton’s face twisted. “You two must be close.”
“Not really,” she said. “He sometimes brings students to observe a trial for extra credit and has introduced me to some of his contacts, but I don’t know him beyond a professional level.”
“Bringing flowers sounds kind of personal if you ask me,” he said.
“He listens to scanners like an ambulance chaser to illustrate how they can be used to find clients,” she said.
“Does he find clients that way?”
“He’s a professor, so it’s an academic exercise to him,” she explained.
A clank in the hallway caused them both to freeze.
Dalton moved, breaking through the temporary hold first.
“Hide underneath your desk,” Dalton said, already to his feet as Blakely reached for the key that unlocked the drawer with her Sig Sauer.
It dawned on her just how poetic it might be for someone like Johnny Spear to kill her in her chambers. It was, after all, this courthouse where his life was changed forever.
Drawer unlocked, fingers curled around the butt of the gun, she’d be ready for whatever walked through that door.