None of them took her words personally. It was extremely difficult to have to live with 24/7 supervision. “Unfortunately, I can’t answer that question yet,” Blake said. “My first guess is, no. I think this guy was just a hired hitman.”
The woman shuddered. “I want to see my father.”
“Let me find out where he is.” He got on his phone. Chloe thought she heard him say Parker’s name. When he hung up, he nodded. “He’s in his office. Come on. Chloe and I can take you to him.”
“I know the way.”
He gave her a tight smile. “I know you do.” Chloe raised a brow at the words he left unspoken. She may know the way, but she wasn’t going alone. Blake belatedly introduced Chloe to the couple, then escorted them back through security, passing the cop Paula had tangled with earlier. He shot her a dark look but didn’t say anything. Paula simply ignored him. He wasn’t even on her radar. Chloe grimaced and tried not to hold the woman’s attitude against her. Her father had come close to being killed. Chloe could extend a little grace.
The four of them walked through the lobby to the secure door that would lead them to the back of the courthouse. Blake swiped the key card and the door clicked open.
Paula hurried through, followed by Miles and Blake. Chloe and Hank pulled up the rear. Blake stepped ahead of Paula and led her to the judge’s chambers. He rapped twice and identified himself, holding his badge up to the peep hole.
The door swung open and Paula pushed past the marshal, making a beeline for her father. She hugged him and Chloe held Hank’s leash while she watched the reunion unfold. The judge still looked shell-shocked, but his arms came up and wrapped around his daughter.
When she pulled back, she touched his cheek. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, Paula.” He blinked and shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
Paula planted her hands on her hips. “This time.”
Judge Worthington sighed and closed his eyes. “Don’t start. Not now.”
Her fiancé had stepped up beside her and laid a hand on her arm. “Paula—”
She shrugged him off and glared at her father. “Fighting them is not worth your life!”
The shout echoed through the office.
All of the marshals found other things to do. They checked the windows, checked the doors, checked their phones. Even Miles backed up a few steps.
Chloe simply watched. Finally, she stepped forward. “You’re talking about the bill you’re pushing legislators to pass, aren’t you? The one that cracks down on perpetrators of human trafficking.”
Judge Worthington turned to her. “I’m working with House of Representatives member, Corrine Johnson. We wrote the bill and she introduced it. It’s making its way through the steps and is at the stage where the House debates it and decides whether to send it on to the Senate. I’ve spoken to the Senate. They know it’s coming. I’m slated to speak to the house—along with Corrine—next week.”
“Has Mrs. Johnson had any threats against her?”
“Yes, as the marshals are aware. But we’ve agreed we’re not backing down. We’ll keep pushing until it becomes a law. We want the death penalty for those who are convicted of human trafficking. Do you know how much prison time an offender serves for enslaving a human being and selling her sometimes as often as twenty times a day?”
“Three years,” Chloe said softly. “On average.”
Her answer raised his brows—and slumped his shoulders. “Yes. Selling dope comes with a stiffer sentence than selling a human being. It’s an outrage.”
“And the shorter sentences mean victims are scared to come forward to testify,” Chloe said.
“Or they’ve been brainwashed,” Blake murmured.
“Exactly.” Judge Worthington rubbed his hands together and crossed his arms. “So, the only way to make a difference is to change the law.”
“And you have to be the one to do that?” Paula demanded.
“If not me, who?” he asked.
She stomped a foot and spun on her heel. Striding to the door, she tossed over her shoulder, “Then make sure your will is up to date if you continue down this path, because I’m afraid you’re not going to live much longer.” A tear trickled down her cheek and she swiped it away before stepping out of the chambers.
The slamming of the door echoed for long seconds after she was gone. Miles sighed. “I’m assuming there’s an officer outside who’ll stop her and hold her?”
“Yeah. She can’t be loose in the building. It’s a crime scene,” Blake said.
“Then I’d better go rescue him and talk her into cooperating.”
“That’s a real good idea.”
Chloe’s buzzing phone jerked her from her stupor and she yanked it off the clip. Dispatch. “St. John here.”
“You and Hank are needed. Are you free?”
“I can be. Where?” Chloe noted the address and typed it into the GPS app on her phone after she hung up. “Hank and I have got to go.”
Blake nodded, his brow furrowed, eyes thoughtful. “Text me when you’re finished. I’ve got an idea.”
Curious, she nodded. “Will do.” Chloe said her goodbyes and led Hank out of the chambers, down the hall, and out of the building.
Blake sat in the parking lot of A Taste of Yesterday restaurant and pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes. It was nearly 6:30 on this chilly Friday evening. Another day had passed with no sign of Rachel. How could she have just disappeared? Again. He slammed a fist against the steering wheel. Once. Twice. Three times. It didn’t help.
Tears swept past his lashes and he pressed his thumb against his eyelids as memories of her toddler days blipped like an old movie through the front of his mind. Her tight hugs and cute lisp. The way she said, “I love you, Daddy,” before planting a wet kiss on his nose. And then all of a sudden, she was calling him Blake. What was up with that? He wasn’t Blake. He was Dad. Daddy.
Sobs threatened. With mammoth effort, he held them back. What was he doing? Big boys didn’t cry. Men didn’t show emotion or let the tears fall. His father had beaten that into him at a young age. Blake immediately snipped that train of thought off and focused on the building in front of him while he swiped at the tears on his cheeks. He found a napkin, blew his nose and cleared his throat.
Distraction would be good, food would be good. But he would only allow himself to be distracted for a short time. Then he would be searching once more.
Linc was on his way, as well as Chloe, Izzy, Brady, Ruthie, and Derek. All of the St. John siblings under one roof. It could be a bit overwhelming, but he was grateful for the short respite before he went back to searching for Rachel. His stomach had been growling at him all day, since he’d barely eaten anything and had consumed entirely too much coffee.
Too much caffeine. Too much emotion. Too much stress. At the rate he was going, he’d be gray and nursing an ulcer by this time next week.
Chloe’s SUV pulled into the spot beside him and she climbed out. He couldn’t help noticing once again that she was extremely pretty.
And he was extremely annoyed with himself for being drawn to her. She was Linc’s sister, for crying out loud.
But she’d been on his attraction radar from the moment he’d seen her at the hospital. He’d just been so focused on finding Rachel, he hadn’t addressed it.
And besides, why would she be interested in a guy with as much baggage as he had attached to him? No, it wouldn’t be fair to ask someone else to hook on to that baggage. Once he got himself free of it, cleaned up, so to speak, then maybe he’d be ready to find someone to settle down with. Give marriage another try. Maybe. Not necessarily with Chloe—he wasn’t that far gone to start thinking along those lines—but marriage in general.
Then again, after his ex-wife’s betrayal, trusting someone else to that extent—to actually be willing to marry again—would take a lot of . . . something.
Maybe prayer.
Chloe slammed the door and the frown on her
face said something was on her mind and it wasn’t good.
He rolled down the passenger window. Cold air rushed in, but he ignored it. At least it wasn’t raining. “What’s wrong?”
Startled, she turned. “Blake. You scared me.”
“Sorry.” He leaned over and opened the passenger door and she slid in. He rolled the window up and cranked the heat up a notch. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing. Just thinking.” She held her hands against the nearest vent. “It’s cold.”
“Thinking about the weather put that frown on your face?”
She shot him a small, tight smile. “No, not really.” Her lips turned down again. “I was thinking about Penny. Is she okay? Is she alive? Does she wish she was—” Her mouth snapped shut and she glanced at him. “Never mind.”
“Does she wish she was dead?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s okay, Chloe. I’m scared to death for Rachel, and I can’t say I haven’t had those same questions when it comes to her.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t believe this whole human trafficking thing has touched both of us in such a personal way. I mean, as a cop, yeah, of course, I expect to come across it. But with Penny . . .” A sigh slipped out.
He sighed. “I don’t think Rachel’s started out as a human trafficking thing. They took her to get to me.”
“So you’d kill the judge?”
“Yeah.”
She pulled the mirror down and scrubbed at the eyeliner below her left eye. Or what was left of it. “They say it’s all-day makeup, but I haven’t found that to be the case. I should sue them for false advertising.”
“How long has your day been?”
She scrunched up her nose at him. “Going on sixteen hours, I think.”
“I doubt you’d win the lawsuit.”
“Yeah. Probably not.” She shut the mirror. “You really think if the judge was dead, the legislation would stop? That the bill would be dismissed?”
“Maybe. Between him and the congresswoman, they’re generating new support for it every day.”
“True.” She bit her lip. “So, what was your idea? What’s up?”
He shot her a blank look.
“At the courthouse, you said to text you when I was done. Well, I just got done and am asking in person.”
“Oh. I think we should put dogs on the judge.”
“K-9 teams?”
“Yeah. States are using K-9s in courthouses to detect things that shouldn’t be there. Why not use them for protection too?”
“I don’t think the lieutenant would go for that idea. That’s not what the teams are for. US Marshals have their own teams. Why not call them in for this?”
“I’ve thought about that. But this situation. It’s . . . different.”
She raised a brow. “Different how? I mean, I know it’s personal with Rachel’s situation and all, but . . .”
He shook his head. “No, I mean . . .” He sighed. “I don’t know what I mean. I can’t explain it. Something just feels . . . off.”
“A lot of things feel off,” she muttered. “But all you can do is ask. I’m happy to be a part of it if the lieutenant says yes.”
“Good. And if he wants to bring in the US Marshal K-9s, I’m cool with that too. The more the better, but I want you in the house with us. You know this case—and Hank is trained to protect as well as detect.”
“Yep, and to trail. He’s a triple-trained animal. All of the shepherds are because they excel at it.”
He nodded.
She paused. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“What happened with you and Aimee?”
He winced. “Ah, that’s kind of a long story.”
“I’m not trying to be nosey, just trying to understand Rachel.”
“You and me both.” He fought with the memories of his dead wife, trying to figure out which ones to pull forward and vocalize. While he was searching for words, Linc’s blue truck pulled into the parking lot. Soon, more vehicles followed. “Let’s save that for another time. Ready?” he asked.
“Yep. Let’s go. I’m hungry.”
Grateful she followed his lead on the change of subject, he smirked. “If I remember correctly, you’re always hungry.”
She rolled her eyes at him and he grinned. Then felt the slam of guilt. How could he smile when Rachel was still out there? How could he eat when he didn’t know if she had eaten? How could he keep going?
Because he had to.
He needed to be at the top of his game in order to do everything possible to bring Rachel home.
Once inside, out of the cold, he shed his jacket and helped Chloe off with hers. They hung them on the rack of pegs just inside the door and waited for a waitress dressed in 1800s attire to approach. “How many?”
“Seven,” Blake said.
“Blake? That you?”
He turned to see Daniel Matthews, owner of the restaurant, walking toward him. He held out a hand and Blake shook it. “Hey, man, how are you doing?”
“Just fine. Haven’t seen you in here in a while. You getting your home cooking somewhere else?”
“What? You really think I’d betray you like that?” Blake had to force the smile. Even joking with a friend seemed wrong. “Work is pretty crazy right now.”
Daniel frowned. “Everything all right?”
“Nope, but I’ll have to fill you in later.” The rest of the St. John siblings were behind him, and while he trusted Daniel, he didn’t want to get into everything right here. The man had a restaurant to run. Blake forced a smile. “We’ll catch up later, though.”
“Sure thing. Where’s Rachel? Riley’s been asking about her. Said she hasn’t seen her in a while.”
Riley was the man’s nineteen-year-old niece. He’d taken her in when his brother and sister-in-law were killed while on the mission field. “Rachel’s been busy. Tell Riley I’ll have her call as soon as she can.”
“Sounds good.” Daniel nodded to the young woman who’d been standing off to the side. “Take them to the back room where they’ll have a bit of a quieter atmosphere.”
“Of course, Mr. Matthews.” She smiled at Blake. “This way.”
He knew the way but fell in behind her. Chloe stayed beside him and the scent of her strawberry shampoo wafted toward him. He drew in a deep breath and tried to ignore the fact that he wished they were headed for a table for two instead of seven.
Once they were all seated, Blake was gratified to find Chloe next to him, with Hank at her feet. Linc sat on his other side, scrolling through something on his phone.
Blake leaned over to Chloe. “Thanks for letting me join in.”
She raised a brow at him. “Of course.”
“Why haven’t we seen each other much since I’ve been back?”
The raised brow stayed up. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head. “I’m not even sure. I guess I’ve just seen so much of Linc. I just wondered why I hadn’t run into you.”
She shrugged. “Linc and I don’t really run in the same circles.”
“I suppose.”
“Hey, Chloe.”
She looked past him to the end of the table where Ruthie sat. “What?”
“Guess who was in my OR today?”
“Are you about to break some HIPAA law by telling me?”
“Not at all. He told me to tell you hi.”
“Who?”
“Jordan Crestwood.”
Blake paid close attention to the fact that Chloe’s face went blank. “Oh, is that right? Well, how’s ol’ Jordan doing these days?” Her voice was chilly enough to send goose bumps pebbling his arms.
“Not happy to hear from him?” Blake murmured so only she could hear.
“Not in the least,” she muttered back. To her sister, she smiled. “What rock did he crawl out from under this time?”
Ruthie blinked. “Ah . . . I don’t know. I thought you
two were an item.”
“Not for a while now,” Derek answered for her then thumped the table with a fist. “Are we going to order or what? I’m starving.”
Everyone turned their attention to the waitress, who stood poised with pen over pad. All except Blake. He reached for Chloe’s hand. “You all right?”
She drew in a deep breath and gave him a short nod. “Fine.” Once she gave her order, she took a sip of water and he tried to read her expression. “Is Ruthie talking about the Jordan Crestwood on the SWAT team?”
“Yep.”
“Derek’s friend?”
“Ex-friend, I think, but yep.”
“And you don’t want to talk about this, do you?”
“Nope.”
He paused. “Do I need to hurt him?”
Her laughter turned heads and drew speculative looks from the others at the table. But his comment had the desired effect. Her countenance lightened and the gentle squeeze of her fingers on his eased the pain in his own heart a fraction.
“Nah. He’s probably going to self-destruct, thanks to his mega ego. You might want to make sure to stay out of range of the explosion, though. It’ll be massive with the aftershocks.”
“Isn’t that an earthquake that has aftershocks?”
“Same idea.”
“Ah. Gotcha.”
The fabulous food and good-natured teasing that went on between the siblings helped as well. It didn’t take him long to down his burger and fries. When he finished, he stared at his plate, wondering what Rachel had eaten. If she’d eaten. If she was cold. If she was—
Any semblance of peace fled and his heart throbbed a painful beat as he shut off the direction of his thoughts.
Linc’s phone rang. He spoke into it, then leaned over to nudge Blake. “That was Monique Pascal from hospital security. We might have some more information on Rachel.”
“What?”
“Monique wants us to come in and look at some more footage she managed to find.”
Blake tossed down his napkin and rose. “Let’s go.”
12
Chloe hurried after the men. She’d overheard the conversation between Linc and Blake and she wasn’t going to miss this one. “I want to go.”
Called to Protect Page 11