Cavanaugh Judgement. Marie Ferrarella

most of the time she didn’t find herself on top of a judge who had a rock-solid body hidden beneath his imposing black robes.

      Raising her chin, Greer stoically waited to be upbraided for her comment regarding the judge’s body. Instead, without so much as uttering a word, Kincannon turned on his heel and made his way back into the courtroom.

      Was she off the hook?

      Or was he planning on denouncing her formally later on? Her experience with judges, as with lawyers, had not yielded a great deal of positive reinforcement.

      “Greer.” The chief’s voice cut through the din in the hall. She turned around to face him, waiting to be dispatched where she could do the most good. Brian motioned toward the courtroom. “Stay with him,” he instructed.

      Greer opened her mouth to protest that she would be more useful looking for the prisoner, but then she shut it again, for once keeping her words to herself. She knew better than to argue with authority, even with someone as genial and affable as the chief. She wasn’t about to abuse the fact that he was her uncle. Years ago in the school yard, she’d learned the wisdom of picking her battles judiciously.

      “Yes, Chief.” The sound of numerous feet running toward them told her that the officers Brian had sent for had arrived. She’d already turned away and was hurrying back into the courtroom. Behind her, she heard Brian continue to organize the search for Munro.

      Greer wouldn’t have wanted to be in the drug dealer’s shoes when Brian found him for any amount of money in the world.

      Entering the courtroom, she noted that it was mostly empty. She glanced toward Kincannon’s desk.

      He wasn’t there.

      Before her adrenaline had the opportunity to ramp up, she spotted the judge on the floor. He was kneeling beside the wounded bailiff.

      Coming closer, Greer saw that the bottom of the judge’s robe was torn and ragged. Though she hadn’t thought it was possible, Kincannon had somehow managed to tear a long strip off his robe and was now using it to form a tourniquet for the wounded bailiff. Moreover, he was doing it himself rather than instructing the other bailiff to do it.

      Admiration stirred within her. Too often judges thought themselves above the people they interacted with. Nice to know that wasn’t a hard and fast rule.

      “Lie flat, Tim,” Kincannon told the bailiff when the injured man tried to sit up.

      So he knew him, she thought. From the job or from somewhere else?

      To underscore his words, the judge put the flat of his hand against the young bailiff’s blood-soaked shirt and exerted just enough pressure to make the man remain down. In his weakened state, Tim could offer no real resistance.

      Joining them, Greer squatted down beside the judge as she looked at the bailiff. “Better do as he says if you ever want to work in his courtroom again,” she advised with an encouraging smile.

      Tim looked like a kid, she thought. She did her best to sound upbeat for the bailiff’s sake. He looked scared and he’d lost a lot of blood. She was rather surprised that Tim was still conscious, much less making an attempt to sit up.

      “Nice work,” she said to Kincannon, nodding at the tourniquet he’d fashioned. She slanted a glance in his direction, forcing herself not to look away too quickly. “Let me guess, you earned a merit badge in first aid when you were a kid.”

      Blake secured the ends of the strip as best he could. That should hold until the paramedics get here, he thought.

      Sitting back on his heels, he continued to maintain eye contact with the frightened bailiff. He couldn’t remember ever being that young. It seemed to Blake that somehow, through a trick of fate, he’d been born old.

      “Nothing wrong with being an Eagle Scout,” he responded.

      “Wow, an Eagle Scout.” Somehow, she had envisioned Kincannon being more of a rebel. Not too much call for rebels in the Boy Scouts. When he looked at her quizzically, she explained, “My brother Kyle only lasted a month in the Cub Scouts.”

      Kincannon continued looking at her. “Let me guess, he didn’t think the rules applied to him.”

      Kyle never thought the rules applied to him. He made his own as he went along.

      Of course, all that was going to change soon. Kyle had actually found his soul mate and was planning on getting married.

      Who would have ever thought…?

      Greer lifted a shoulder in a semi-shrug. “Something like that.”

      “Family trait?” Kincannon mused.

      Greer looked at him. To ask that, the judge would have had to be familiar with her family. Granted, she and her brothers were all detectives with the Aurora police department, but she was not so self-centered as to think that the world revolved around her family. Besides, she usually kept a low profile.

      She wanted to know his reasoning. “Why would you say that?”

      “I’m a fairly good judge of character, no pun intended.” He gave his handiwork a once-over to make sure it was secure. Satisfied, he nodded to himself. But rather than standing up, Kincannon looked at the woman beside him for a long moment. “Rather than duck out of range, the way everyone else in the courtroom did, you jumped on my desk, making yourself the most visible target in the room.”

      Her eyes narrowed just a little, even as she told herself not to take offense. She hadn’t expected him to thank her profusely, but neither had she expected him to take her to task for it, either.

      “With all due respect, Your Honor, I didn’t exactly break into a tap dance, searching for my fifteen seconds of fame. I jumped on the desk because it was the fastest way to get you out of harm’s way.”

      “It’s fifteen minutes, not seconds,” he corrected mildly, “and at thirty-four, I’m perfectly capable of getting out of harm’s way on my own.”

      Greer squared her shoulders. Infected with a little hubris, are we? It looked as if she might just have to revise her opinion of Kincannon. Again.

      “I’m assuming, Your Honor, that at thirty-four, your eyesight is still twenty-twenty.”

      Rather than answer in the affirmative, Kincannon’s eyes held hers as he rose to his feet. “What are you getting at?”

      She was in no hurry to blurt out her answer. “That Munro discharged the weapon twice. The second bullet went into the bailiff you just bandaged.”

      His eyes never left hers. Even so, there wasn’t even the slightest hint as to what was going on in his head. Was he taking offense, highly amused or just giving her enough rope in hopes that she’d hang herself?

       Not today, Judge.

      “You’re going to tell me about the first bullet, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone mild.

      “Absolutely,” she said cheerfully. Greer marched over to Kincannon’s desk and rounded it, going directly to the wall behind it. He followed. She pointed to an area that was the exact same height as his throat was from the floor. Her meaning was clear. Had he been standing where he’d been a moment longer, he wouldn’t have been with them now. “You were his first target.”

      Blake dismissed her conclusion with an indifferent shrug. “Coincidence.”

      Greer suppressed an annoyed sigh. So he was thickheaded. Maybe the bullet wouldn’t have penetrated after all.

      This wasn’t the time to get into an argument, she told herself silently. There was nothing to be gained by butting heads with this man. Her energy could be better spent otherwise.

      But that still didn’t keep her from looking as if she was merely humoring him. She inclined her head like an acquiescing servant. “Have it your way.”

      Rather than taking her