“Your Honor, you need to recess your court and retire to your chambers. All courtrooms in this building are being cleared.” And to help punctuate his words, three deputies came through one of the side entrances and began doing just that. The black-robed figure stood from her seat and glared over the disturbance.
“This is my courtroom, and I will—” She did not get to finish that statement.
Rance had mounted the three steps beside her chair and stood at her elbow. “And you are now under the protection of the United States Marshals Service. You have time to gather what items you must have from your office and then we are leaving.” His hand motioned toward the door behind them. “We need to leave, Your Honor. You are not safe in this building.”
To his surprise, she didn’t argue but turned and led the way through the door, down a short hall and then stepped into the outer office of her suite. Her clerk was already on the phone canceling appointments and the rest of her docket. The older woman’s worried gaze followed the pair as the judge didn’t break stride until she entered her private office and crossed to stand behind her desk. Then she faced him and there was no more silence.
“You are on my turf, Marshal…” She halted and then added, “I need to see your credentials right now.”
Rance drew out the leather square with the silver badge affixed. She studied it for a moment and then returned her gaze to his. “Name?”
“Lieutenant Ranson Parker. But everyone calls me Rance. And we’re wasting time. We need to leave now.”
“This is probably another hoax or a stunt by—”
“Judge Barkley has been shot and is in surgery as we speak. It’s life-threatening. We have credible threats on all the judges in our area. Judge Vincente was found dead in his home late last night and that news is about to break. The M.E. has an initial report of poisoning. So, until we have the situation under control and the assailant, or assailants, are in custody, we must place all judges in protective custody by order of the governor and the attorney general. My orders are cut and dried. I suggest you get rid of the black robe and the attitude where you believe you have any jurisdiction over this. What I say goes from this moment forward. Let’s move, Your Honor.”
Rance would like to think it was his take-charge, no-nonsense command of the situation that had persuaded her to keep her arguments to herself, but it was probably the facts he led with about the other two jurists that had silenced her and made her ivory skin go a shade paler. Normally, he might have handled it a bit better…or not. He wasn’t about to lose a judge on his watch. And it was clear to him that this one was used to being in charge of everything around her. Thanks, Captain…I owe you one. Why did he suddenly have the feeling that it would be easier to catch the bad guy in this than to keep this particular judge under control?
The black robe came off with a couple of snaps and a tug of a zipper. It was left where it fell on the floor at her feet. Rance changed his first assessment of the woman’s height when he saw the three-inch heels she was wearing. He wasn’t a fashion expert but a model he had once dated had pointed out the importance to fashion of the red-bottomed heels he’d just caught a glimpse of. And they were not made for running, if they had to do so.
The black and white checked pencil-thin skirt was a discreet length to just below the knee, much to a sudden disappointment in his mind. The judge had an amazing pair of legs…but who needed to think about that? And the black, turtleneck sweater hugged curves that stirred other thoughts in him. He shook his mind. Job…she was his job. To keep alive. Move it.
“Grab what you can in two minutes, and we’re out of here.”
Her movements weren’t wasted. She took a tote bag…an expensive brand-named one from a deep desk drawer, placed her small laptop inside and put a handful of folders beside it. The straps slid over her shoulder.
“Now what?” She faced him with a coolness in her voice, the color returning to the high cheekbones of her face. Her hair was black and pulled back into some kind of fancy bun at the back of her head. Tiny pearl studs were in her ears and that was it. Very polished package for a judge. But then, he had no experience with a female jurist.
“We leave.” He placed his left hand on her elbow to guide her where his path was set in his mind.
“I am not a felon about to flee. I can walk without any help.”
“And since I know where we’re headed, and I need to be able to change directions without having to discuss them with you beforehand, this works best. It is something I suggest you get used to if we are in this for the long haul. I lead and you follow.” Rance guided them back to the hallway, saying nothing more to the clerk. In the hallway, a courthouse deputy waited for them, but Rance waved him away.
“What are you, the lone wolf? Wouldn’t it be better to have more help?”
“The fewer people who know our plans the better. Fewer people who could talk and help the wrong person figure out where we might be headed. It’s safer all the way around. It’s just you and me from this point forward.”
“Just great.”
He had to grudgingly admire the fact that as fast as he was walking, she wasn’t complaining and was trying to keep up, until midway down the stairs from the third floor to the second when there was a cracking sound. She would have gone face first if Rance hadn’t grabbed her arm and thrown her back against his side with an arm around her waist.
“What just—”
“You broke the heel off my new pair of shoes. I must hobble along now, and you need to slow down.”
Rance bent down and in a swift move he took care of the situation. The remaining good shoe was off her foot and in one resounding movement, the heel went flying when the shoe met the wood of the banister beside them. He bent and placed the shoe back on her foot in a swift, none-too-gentle move. He stood and resumed control of her arm. “Let’s move.”
“Are you insane? I just bought these.” They were moving faster. Rance chose to let her words become background noise. They reached the door and that is when he finally spoke to her again.
“Okay…do you really need those glasses to see or are they just to make you appear smarter? Do you usually wear them and your hair…is it always in that severe bun-thing?”
“Are you always so rude? I can see without my glasses except for reading fine print, if you must know. And what’s wrong with my hair?”
“Good. Take the glasses off. Undo your hair before we get to the outside door. We’re going to blend in with the crowd as best as we can until we make it around to the back exit. Then we’ll move even faster to my vehicle. If someone is waiting for you, they’ll be zoning in for you as you normally look. And here…” He paused to shed his jacket and pushed it into her hands. “Put this on. Most people will glance at you from the waist up, so maybe a girl with long hair, no glasses, and wearing a jean jacket will be passed over in a quick sliding survey of a crowd.”
“Are the words please and thank you in your tough-guy vocabulary? If not, I suggest you learn them.” She might be schooling him about his manners, but she did as he ordered. The black-framed glasses went into the tote bag. The jacket went on over the expensive blouse and then the hair was let loose and fell to her shoulders and beyond. Rance was taken aback for a moment with the transformation. The cold ‘ice maiden,’ as he had come to reference her in his mind, had thawed in front of his eyes. At least in appearance, if not demeanor.
