Cynthia Eden - Fear For Me

Her fingers curled around the doorknob. If Hamilton wasn’t there, it would be locked. Standard protocol at the courthouse.

“Ma’am?” The uniform came closer to her. Officer Shamus Riley. As far as shadows went, he was a good guy. “Is there a problem?”

She shook her head. “Just give me a minute.” She twisted the knob and it turned easily beneath her fingers, but the door ran into something as she pushed. As she leaned against it and opened a space wide enough to enter, Lauren was expecting—hoping—to see Hamilton rush toward her in his billowing black robe.

But Hamilton wasn’t there.

And his office had been wrecked.

Lauren stood inside the doorway of Hamilton’s office, her gaze sweeping over the overturned files, smashed computer bits, and cracked glass of photo frames. The place had been trashed. Gutted.

“Where is he?” Lauren asked as she whirled to face the cop. He’d already called for backup and, over Shamus’s shoulder, she could see a guard rushing toward them.

Shamus shook his head, worry tightening the lines near his eyes.

“We need to page Judge Hamilton, now,” Lauren told the guard. He had a radio on him that connected to the main security system. They could send a call through the courthouse. If Hamilton was there, if it was possible for him to respond, he would.

Then Hamilton rounded the corner. He came to a stop when he saw them.

“Ms. Chandler?” He hurried toward her, sending a quick frown toward the courthouse guard and Shamus. “I was hoping you’d—” He broke off, his eyes widening as he glanced toward the open door of his office and caught sight of the destruction. “What in the hell happened?”

He was okay. Alive. He’d just scared her to death. She grabbed his hands. “Judge, where have you been?”

“I had to sign a warrant for your ADA Crenshaw.” He stared over her shoulder at his office. The color drained from his face. “He came looking for me, didn’t he?”

It sure looked like he had.

The courthouse guard shifted nervously next to them.

Hamilton rounded on him. “Who came into my office? Who was here?”

The guard’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t see anyone. There was a scuffle with one of the prisoners on transfer, and I had to go help. I left the area for a few minutes…”

“Security cameras,” Lauren said, thinking quickly as she looked at the cameras discreetly perched in the corners. “There’s a system on every floor.” Had to be, thanks to a bomb threat that had emptied the courthouse a few years back.

The cameras would have captured the intruder.

At least, she sure hoped they had. Because maybe those cameras could tell them where Walker had gone—or even where he was right then. She motioned toward the courthouse guard. “Tell security to pull up the footage, now. Find out who was in this area, and where the hell he is now.”

The guard nodded quickly and started talking into his radio.

Shamus’s voice caught her attention. “Yes, sir…” He was on his phone with someone—Lauren sure hoped that someone was Paul or Anthony. “The office was trashed, sir.” The cop’s eyes rose and locked on her. “She’s right here. Yes, yes, I will.”

As he ended the call, Shamus’s hand curled around her arm. “Sorry, ma’am, but he told me to keep you by my side until he got here.”

“Who’s he?”

Hamilton tried to edge around the cop to get into his office.

Shamus moved, blocking his path. “The marshal said I had to keep her close, and he also told me not to let anyone in the room. He wants the techs in there before anyone disturbs the evidence.”

So Anthony was leading the investigation. Edging out Paul in a pissing match for jurisdiction.

She pulled her arm away. “You can let me go.”

He flushed. “Ma’am, he said I was to keep a hand on you until he got here.”

“I’m the DA, Officer Riley.” More guards hurried into the area, surrounding a still stunned-looking Judge Hamilton. “I think I’m safe now.”

Riley slowly dropped his hand. “That’s just the thing. He said you weren’t safe. That the killer could be in the building.” He made no move to back away.

She glanced at the wreckage of Hamilton’s office, then she looked at the judge’s haggard face. “Why did you call me, Hamilton?” Lauren demanded. “Why did you want me here?”

Hamilton’s gaze cut to the cops. The guards. He gave a small, negative shake of his head.

She knew he wasn’t going to tell her what she needed to know. Not with so many eyes and ears close by.

Secrets. They didn’t have time for them. Not when the killer was this close.

Anthony could barely contain his fury. The security cameras turned up jack shit. The guards didn’t remember seeing anyone enter or exit the judge’s chambers, and Hamilton’s secretary, a young woman who’d just graduated from college, had burst into tears when the cops started to question her. She’d left early, heading out to meet her boyfriend, and she hadn’t even realized that the judge’s chambers had been invaded.

Anthony glanced over at Lauren. Her gaze wasn’t on him. It was on the judge, and Lauren looked damn suspicious as she studied Hamilton. Fair enough. He also knew the judge was holding back on him. With a killer hunting, no one needed to hold back.

Time to clear the air.

Anthony closed in on Lauren and Hamilton. “Why did you want to see her?” he demanded.

Hamilton hunched his shoulders. He didn’t meet Anthony’s stare. “There are a number of cases that her office is working. I just needed to talk about—”

“When you lie,” Anthony said quietly, “your gaze cuts to the floor and you rub your chin.”

Most folks had tells like that. Only they didn’t realize what they were doing. Anthony realized. It was his job to notice.

The judge licked his lips and his gaze slowly rose to meet Anthony’s. “It’s nothing. Really.” His hand fell away from his chin.

“Nothing wouldn’t make you call me,” Lauren said, voice soft. “On the phone, you said it was urgent. That we had to meet.”

Hamilton glanced over at the cops. His stare seemed to linger a moment on Detective Voyt. Then he focused back on Anthony. Hamilton edged closer and, voice even softer than Lauren’s, he said, “About two weeks ago, I got a letter from one of the Walker jurors.”

Lauren inhaled sharply.

“It was from the juror foreman, Steve Lynch. He said he’d made a mistake. That he wanted to talk.” The judge shook his head. “I didn’t respond to him, haven’t—but then I got to thinking about Walker breaking out so soon after the note was sent. I wondered…”

“You wondered if Walker had gotten a letter from Steve Lynch?” Lauren asked. “Something that might have pushed him into breaking out?”

A grim nod. “A letter, or maybe even some help.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “The kind of help that can get you a ticket out of prison if someone feels like they owe you.” He rocked forward onto the balls of his feet. “It might sound crazy, but I’ve seen plenty of crazy during my years on the bench. If a juror starts feeling guilty, starts feeling like he sent the wrong man to prison…hell, a guy like that will do just about anything to atone.”

Lauren was silent. A little too silent.

Anthony had to ask, “Did this Lynch guy contact you, too?”

“No.” Hesitation. Doubt? “At least, I don’t think he did. My assistant opens my mail, and she would have told me if a note like that had come through the office.”

Maybe.

Maybe not.

He raised his hand. “Voyt.”

The detective marched over.

“Judge Hamilton has some intel that he needs to give you.” Anthony had his own job to do. He caught Lauren’s hand. “Come with me.”

Her eyes widened. “Where are we going?”

“You wanted to be in on the hunt, well, here’s your chance.” After this second attack, no way did he want her out of his sight.

The job is to catch the killer. Fugitive apprehension. He knew exactly what he was supposed to do.

But leaving her behind…hell, no, that didn’t seem like an option. When he’d gone back to the clearing near the cabin and she’d been gone, his heart had damn near stopped.

It felt like he’d been coming closer and closer to death on his last few cases. Down in New Orleans, a serial killer had even managed to make him think that he was facing death. In what he’d thought were the last few minutes of his life, Anthony had closed his eyes and seen—

Her.

A man’s priorities could sure change quickly when he thought death was taking him.

But he’d survived that prick Valentine’s attack. And the witness he’d been protecting for so long, the woman who’d had her life nearly destroyed by the Valentine Killer?

I walked her down the aisle.

The monsters didn’t always win in this world. Sometimes, good did kick the hell out evil.

Sometimes.

His hold tightened on Lauren’s arm. “Come with me.” Apprehending Walker was his mission, but leaving her behind? Not happening.

“I can handle Lauren’s protection for the night,” Voyt offered as he stepped closer to them. He gave a little nod toward her. “Come on, Lauren, I’ll take you home.”

“I can’t go back home.” Her words broke a bit but she rallied quickly. “It’s not clear yet. And with Karen’s blood…with her dying in my bedroom…” Her breath rushed out. “I’m not going there.”

Hell, no, she wasn’t. The detective was a dumbass to even suggest she return that night.