then interrogating him, and now he relished the feel of the fresh air and the pounding of his feet against the earth.
Peace. Calm. Two things he longed to have that always seemed just out of reach. After fighting in the Middle East, all he wanted to do was put those memories behind him. But each night they haunted his dreams. For three years.
A scream pierced the air.
He halted.
A cry for help followed.
He spun around and raced in the direction of the sound, going around a long curve in the trail.
Judge Forster, whom he’d passed earlier, struggled with a tall man on the other side of the fallen tree. Chase pumped his legs as fast as he could, closing the distance between them.
The assailant in a ski mask glanced at Chase, then tried to wrestle something from the judge. She held on tight.
Was it her child?
The attacker backed away, stumbled over the stroller and went down.
Chase sailed over the downed log as the tall man scrabbled to his feet and took off.
Chase’s right foot hit the ground first then the left, that leg nearly crumbling under him at the impact. He shoved away thoughts of the throbbing ache. “Okay, Judge Forster?” Slowing, he swung his attention to her on the ground by the tree, as she cuddled a crying child.
“We’re fine. Get him,” she said in a tight voice.
Chase increased his speed, the attacker at least a football-field length ahead of him. The leg he’d wounded as a US Marine overseas continued to protest. Each time he struck his left foot against the hard packed ground, needles of white-hot pain seared him. Nearing one of the small parking lots, Chase had to slow to half speed. But when he heard a car starting, he dug deep for one last burst of energy.
He came into view of the row of vehicles. At the other end he glimpsed a white sedan leaving. Too far away to catch, especially with his SUV in another parking lot, but at least he got the license plate number.
He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and started back toward the judge and her child. He speed-dialed the police station and reported the attack. The sergeant would put out a BOLO on the car. Chase told the sergeant he would take down what happened from Judge Forster.
By the time he returned, she was standing by the stroller, cradling her child against her chest and swinging him gently as she hummed a soft tune. She glanced at him briefly, her brown eyes so dark they were almost black. Once she’d noticed it was him, not her attacker, she focused on her son, dressed in blue shorts and shirt. He was still whimpering a little, but his cries had softened.
Chase waited. He had two brothers and one sister, all younger than him. While growing up, he’d babysat many times and knew when it was important to remain quiet. While he waited, he assessed the judge, who was trying to calm her child. Her long blond ponytail swished as she rocked her son. His gaze skimmed down her length and noted a couple of scratches on her legs, probably from a tree branch. Other than that, she seemed uninjured. And her expression showed that her earlier fear had faded but not the tension that pulsated from her, shouting that she would protect her child at all costs. Their gazes connected for a few seconds. He’d never met her, but he knew who she was. Her reputation as a judge was stellar—fair and compassionate but tough when needed.
He looked away to take in the crime scene. The tree trunk hadn’t been there yesterday when he’d jogged this path. Had the assailant set this up? It had looked like he was trying to take the judge’s child. A foiled kidnapping or something else?
After the judge placed her now sleeping son in the stroller, she walked toward him. “Did he get away?”
Chase nodded, noting she was about a foot shorter than her attacker. Impressive that she’d managed to fend him off until he’d arrived. “I’m Detective Chase Walker with the Cimarron City Police Department. I got the car’s license plate number and called the station. That information has gone out to the officers on duty. There’s a chance one of them will spot him before he ditches the vehicle.”
“Undoubtedly, it was stolen.”
Probably. But not always. “Tell me what happened. I’m going to record this since I don’t have anything to write on. Start with your name.” Chase punched the record button on his cell phone.
She looked back at her son, then rubbed her temple and said, “I’m Kate Forster. Oh, you already know that.” She grinned but couldn’t maintain it. “I had my son, Jamie, with me in his stroller while I went for a run. It happened so fast. I’ll do my best to tell you everything, but can we do it at my house? It’ll be dark soon, and frankly I don’t want to be here when it is.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms.
“That’s fine with me. I’ll take some photos then we can leave. Which lot are you parked in?”
“The second one.”
“That’s where mine is. I’ll follow you back to your house.”
“I appreciate it. I’ve seen you at the courthouse. I thought you might be an attorney.”
He started snapping pictures. “Nope. Just testifying in court.”
“Can you show me your badge?”
“Yes, it’s in my car.” He smiled. “I’m glad you asked. You can’t be too careful.”
“Sadly, I’ve discovered that in my job, and today only emphasized it.”
So had he—both as a Marine and a police officer.
When they left, the judge pushed her stroller, gripping the handle so tight her knuckles whitened. “I’ve never felt unsafe here. I come to the reserve a lot. This is one of Jamie’s favorite places.”
“If you’re going to continue coming here, don’t come alone.”
She slanted a look at him, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. “You don’t have to warn me. I might have to content myself with swimming in my pool instead.”
“Where do you live?”
She gave him her address.
“That’s a nice area of town. Isn’t that a gated community?”
She nodded and stopped at a blue luxury car. “Maybe until I open my pool, I’ll jog in my neighborhood. We have private security that patrols.”
“Or find someone to go with you besides your child. My SUV is in the next row. I’ll get my badge and be right back.”
As he made his way to his vehicle, he favored his leg. Each step flooded his mind with thoughts of his last time in battle. He still didn’t understand how he’d survived when everyone else on the recon mission had died. He should have died, but he hadn’t.
* * *
Kate pulled into her garage and carefully lifted Jamie out of his car seat. He was still asleep. She stared down at his peaceful face looking so much like her deceased husband, James, even down to the cleft in his chin. The only thing of hers
