Chapter Sixteen
Dalton surveyed the area for a long moment after Blakely disappeared inside the building. There was no sign of trouble. None that he could see anyway, which didn’t necessarily mean a threat wasn’t there.
Once Blakely was safely inside, he parked and then walked the perimeter.
The parking lot itself wasn’t busy. Half the spaces were empty.
Jurors were most likely already present.
This new-construction building had a dozen courtrooms. Summoned jurors were being sorted through in a large room, given assignments.
Others had cases underway and were already seated in court.
Badge visible on his belt clip, he walked corridors and poked his head in rooms to get a baseline. So far, so good.
He’d seen Johnny Spear’s picture, so he knew what facial features to look for.
There were countless ways to alter your appearance, but Dalton was skilled at sifting through hair color changes and the various other ways to conceal your real identity.
Clothing was another big one. Throw on a dress, put on makeup and paint your nails, and someone like Johnny could walk around freely without being identified.
The probability that Johnny could breach the courthouse might be slim, considering all the ID checks and fail-safes implemented, but Dalton left nothing to chance.
When he’d dotted every i and crossed every t, he located Blakely’s courtroom and found a seat in the back row. There was a small sprinkling of attendees. A gentleman with white hair sitting by three college-aged kids gave rapt attention not to the defendant or the litigators, but to Blakely.
Was this the law professor who’d shown up at the hospital?
Didn’t that make the tiny hairs on the back of Dalton’s neck prickle?
The man seemed to be stalking Blakely. This felt like more than just following her career.
Dalton needed to have a conversation with her to get her take on the situation.
This whole bit rubbed him the wrong way.
Not once had any of his college professors tried to establish a personal connection outside of the classroom.
To be fair, she was remarkable and very successful at a young age. He was certain her university would want to keep a strong alumni connection.
Dalton’s cell buzzed in his pocket. After checking the screen, he slipped out of the courtroom. “Hey, Jules. What’s up?”
“It’s Grandpa Lor,” she began, emotion making the words come out strained.
“Everything okay?” His pulse spiked.
“He’s awake,” she managed to say clearly. “And he’s asking for everyone.”
“I’m on my way,” Dalton replied before ending the call. His next was to his supervisor. “I need to go. Now. My grandfather’s condition has improved.”
“That’s good news,” Jamison Fox said. Most called him Foxy behind his back.
The females on staff said he could pull off the name given his good looks.
He wore a gold bracelet around his wrist with his wife and two young kids’ names inscribed on it.
His devotion to family, they’d said, made him People’s Sexiest Man Alive eligible in their books. “I’m happy for you, Dalton.”
“I’m mid-assignment,” Dalton began.
“Not a problem,” Foxy said. “I’ll pull someone and send them over. Where are you?”
“In court,” Dalton said before explaining Blakely was well protected while in the courthouse.
“Go be with your family, Dalton.”
He hesitated before thanking his supervisor.
The thought of leaving Blakely sat hard on his chest. Harder than he expected.
A break would be good, the little voice in the back of his mind reminded.
They’d hit a wall on the personal front.
Being with Blakely twenty-four-seven wasn’t doing good things to his heart or his mind.
A little time apart might help clear his head because their attraction was becoming a problem.
For him, at least. She’d been clear about where she stood on having anything but a professional relationship.
“I’ll have someone over before the end of the day,” Foxy said. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. We’ll protect the judge.”
The reassurance helped, easing some of the guilt he felt for abandoning her.
“I appreciate it,” Dalton said.
“Mesa Point is a couple hours’ drive,” Foxy said. “You should get on the road if you want to be there by lunch.”
“Will do, boss,” Dalton said, then thanked his supervisor once again before ending the call.
He was torn right down the middle. Half of him wanted to give Blakely a heads-up before he took off.
The other half reminded him that she’d been clear about taking care of herself.
She’d been clear about not needing anyone in her life.
Walking away while his pride was still somewhat intact was his best bet. If it hurt now, imagine what it would feel like if he spent more time around her.
Closure. This was closure. So why did he feel like he had a big, gaping open wound where his heart should be?
* * *
Out of the corner of her eye, Blakely saw Dalton slip out of the courtroom. Hours passed, and he didn’t return. Had something happened? Had Dalton been called out? Was something happening in the building or parking lot?
Or had Johnny Spear been caught? Case closed?
At noon, she ordered a break for lunch. Ralph escorted her to her chambers, where she half expected Dalton to be waiting. Her heart sank to her toes when she found the space empty instead.
Still no sign of Dalton when it was time to head back into the courtroom. On the way, she leaned into Ralph and asked, “Have you seen my US marshal escort anywhere?”
“No, Your Honor,” Ralph replied as he walked her back to the bench.
Was this bad news? Had something gone down?
“Have you heard any commotion?” she asked.
“No, I haven’t,” he responded before taking his post.
For the rest of the afternoon, there was no sign of Dalton.
The trial concluded, and the jury convened to discuss a verdict.
Once again, she waited alone in her chambers until the straightforward case was about to conclude.
The jury was out for no longer than fifteen minutes before the announcement came that they were ready to deliver their verdict.
Still no sign of Dalton, and the day was almost over.
Would he be waiting in the truck?
At least the professor and his students were gone when court resumed. Blakely went through her usual bit before asking the jury foreman to read the verdict.
“Your Honor, we, the jury, find the defendant, Thomas Dunn, guilty of armed robbery,” the foreman said, reading from a piece of paper.
“Thank you,” Blakely said as the door to the courtroom opened and a man in a suit slipped in. He had that law-enforcement swagger she’d learned was as much part of the job as a neat haircut. This man had military-short red hair.
Her stomach dropped because there was still no sign of Dalton.
She delivered the maximum sentence to the defendant and then dismissed everyone before returning to her chambers. Red immediately knocked at the door as she reached for her purse, ready to get out of there and back to Dalton’s apartment.
“My name is Lenn Gunnard,” Red said. “I’m here as a replacement for Dalton Remington.”
“Oh,” she said, trying not to sound panicked despite her pulse spiking. “Is everything okay with Marshal Remington?” Did he despise her enough after their last discussion to ask to be removed from the case?
“Yes, Your Honor,” Lenn supplied. “Family emergency.”
Was that an excuse or did something happen with his grandparents? “I understand. I hope everyone is okay.” Suddenly, she couldn’t find a better word to use than okay. Where did her extensive vocabulary go? The one she’d used at mock trial during law school that had impressed her professors so much?
“I’m not certain,” the marshal said. “I have a truck in the parking lot. Ralph said he would wait out front until I texted it was safe to come outside.”
“Okay,” she said. There was that word again. “Thank you.”
Lenn disappeared as Ralph stepped into view.
“Ready, Your Honor?” Ralph asked.
“Yes,” she said even though her thoughts were with Dalton and his family. What if something bad happened? Could she reach out to him? Would he even take her call?
Probably not.
But he couldn’t stop her from showing up.
“I have an idea, Ralph,” she said. “Would you be willing to give me a ride home?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” he said.
“Any chance we can slip out the back?” she asked.
Ralph stood there for a moment before answering. “We can do that.”
“I’d owe you big-time,” she said.
“No, you wouldn’t,” he said with a wink.
She could guess what it meant, but she wasn’t ready to go there and admit to having feelings for Dalton with anyone.
If she thought their relationship had a snowball’s chance in hell of surviving the long haul, Dalton would be the first to know.
She just didn’t want to explain that she needed to get to the hospital in Mesa Point, Texas, to a stranger.
Whether he liked it or not, she wanted to be there for Dalton in case the worst had just happened.
He deserved that much from her, especially because she couldn’t give him anything else, even if she wanted to. And a growing part of her wanted to.
“Then, let’s go,” she said after grabbing her handbag. They made their way out the back and to his truck without incident.
“I have a back way out of the parking lot that should keep us from driving past your new bodyguard,” Ralph said. The spark in his voice said he was up for the adventure.
“I appreciate what you’re doing,” she said to him. “And I’ll text the marshal so he isn’t waiting all night. But I’d like to get a head start first because I’m sure he’ll head straight to my home, where I need to go to pick up my car.”
“What about the docket?” Ralph asked.
“I might be back by morning,” she said, realizing she hadn’t gotten past ditching the marshal out front. “But I’ll call out once I get on the road with my car. And I’ll take all the heat for asking you for a ride.”
“Wasn’t worried,” Ralph said.
When they had a ten-minute head start, she texted the new marshal and said she would meet him back at the courthouse in an hour. Then half expected him to blow up her phone with messages. He sent one.
Don’t worry about it. You’ll be reassigned.
Did that mean Dalton was being put back on the case? Her heart double-crossed her, flipping, at the thought.
Calm down. She couldn’t be certain of anything right now, and there was no use getting worked up if the man refused to ever set eyes on her again.
Her home wasn’t far from the courthouse. Ralph walked her to her car as she dug out the keys.
“Be safe,” he said once she was in the driver’s seat.
“I will,” she promised before closing and locking the door. She started the engine and backed out of the driveway as Ralph waved.
He became smaller and smaller in the rearview until he disappeared altogether.
She’d made it into her subdivision. Now, she needed to make it to the highway.
This time of year, it was already dark outside.
Her stomach growled, making her wish she’d thought to throw a couple power bars inside her purse.
She could stop once she got down the highway. Houston traffic was relentless.
Almost out of her subdivision, an aggressive vehicle pulled up from behind. The cab of the SUV was dark, the windows tinted. Bright headlights made it impossible to see who was behind the wheel. Her heart jackhammered the inside of her ribcage.
Was she going to have a reaction every time something felt off? Hadn’t she stopped panicking over every little thing years ago?
The engine behind her gunned as she approached a four-way stop.
The next thing she knew, her back bumper was being rammed.
The SUV didn’t have a front license plate, which was illegal in Texas.
However, many vehicle owners ignored the regulation, and police didn’t have time or resources to pull vehicles over for every minor infraction.
The SUV pushed her out into the intersection as a vehicle came rolling up. She mashed the gas pedal and hooked a last-minute right, staying in her neighborhood. She knew these roads like the back of her hand.
Whipping down an alley and then making another right, the SUV kept close enough to watch her every move. Blakely released a string of curses that would have made her mother blush.
And then she wheeled left, cutting down a back road. She maneuvered through the alley that would dump her onto an outside street. The highway wasn’t far. She would have a better chance of losing the SUV on the highway.
In the meantime, she tried to use her voice to have her phone call for help. Of course, the phone didn’t respond. She’d never had much luck with that thing.
Glancing in the rearview, she realized she was alone. Hot damn. She’d lost the SOB who’d been on her bumper. The close call jacked her pulse through the roof and scared her. Losing the marshal didn’t seem like the best plan in hindsight.
But she’d done it. She’d lost the SUV and could maneuver out of the neighborhood and onto the highway. Once she could exhale, she would call and report the incident to the Houston PD. If Johnny Spear was close, she wanted the law to know.
Halfway through the next intersection, a vehicle sped up and T-boned her. Her sedan went into a spin as the SUV hit Reverse, backed up to make another run for her, miscalculated and got momentarily hung up on a fire hydrant.
Gunning the engine, she made her move, speeding through the neighborhood toward the highway as she frantically checked her rearview mirror, expecting the SUV to show up any second.
The incident rattled her to the point where her hands shook.
And then she caught a glimpse of him speeding toward her.
She smacked the steering wheel with the flat of her palm as she neared the on-ramp. Freedom was within arm’s reach. Come on. Come on. Go faster.
Could she get there in time?