and that your success rate was one hundred percent, I wanted to hire you.”
“I remember you from self-defense class. You beat the hell out of my dummy.”
Kim burst out laughing. “That’s what he was there for.”
Zach nodded, relaxing a bit, thinking back. “We met again six months ago, Judge.”
Kim thought for a moment. “I don’t recall.”
“I appeared in your courtroom.”
Her eyes clouded and disappointment crashed in like the surf. “Oh, no.”
“It’s not what you think. I wasn’t in trouble. We worked marathon court. The great Fulton County backlog.”
Kim pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh, yes, I do remember you! What a nightmare that was. Three thousand cases. Oh, my goodness. The governor and the U.S. Attorney ordered the court system to process the cases within one month. How many fugitives did Hood bring before us?”
“We captured fifty of Atlanta’s Missing and Wanted. We didn’t sleep or eat for months before those fugitives had to appear in court. We went into hell to find those men and women.” He snapped his fingers. “I remember your hair was shorter then. You yelled at me! My fugitive was talking in court, and you thought it was me.”
They both started laughing.
Kim clasped her hands together. “I’d hoped you’d forgotten that. We were under a tremendous amount of pressure. Sorry,” she said shyly.
“No worries. You were just doing your job.”
“We all were. That’s why I called for you, Zach. If you and Hood Investigations could find fifty people who didn’t want to be found, you can find out who’s trying to kill me. Can you help me?”
His gaze met hers, and he got lost in the yearning and the question there. She wanted to live, and she needed his help.
Zach found himself looking at the judge as a woman and not a client. He focused on the carpet and realigned his thoughts. Before he did something unprofessional, he pulled out his computer. “Yes, I believe we can. Let me tell you what Hood Investigations can do for you.”
Zach pulled up the presentation that took less than ten minutes. “You would never be alone. There are four men on the team and three women. We work multiple cases, but in your case, we’d all work together due to the high priority.”
“Because of my status as a judge?”
“Yes.” Zach stopped the PowerPoint presentation from moving forward. “And, you called us. I know the marshals automatically provide security for you. But you have concerns for your safety, and that means you don’t trust them implicitly. Second, if a judge has a cause for concern, and you’re approaching Hood, you’ve gone through the regular channels and didn’t get the results you wanted. Are you concerned about people like the Baxters?”
“On a minor level, but my concern is that the threats against me may have been an ongoing thing, and we ignored the initial signs. I don’t want to sound paranoid.”
Her confidence wavered and she looked so unsure of herself. So like a vulnerable woman. For years he’d been teaching women to follow their instincts; the only thing that had kept some of them alive. He had no doubt the judge believed someone was after her. He wondered if it was true.
There was a double knock at the door and the judge’s assistant Clark walked in. Tall and well groomed, the thin man looked at his boss affectionately, then at Zach. “I had to eavesdrop on her, because I knew she wasn’t going to tell you everything.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Judge Thurman?”
“Clark, don’t make me look bad.” Even as she said the words, she made room for him on the spacious couch. He sat near her and she touched his hand.
“She’s going to get killed unless she’s honest. Mr. Hood, I insisted she contact you. I was trying to protect Judge Thurman when we were attacked one night after dance class.”
“Are you two a couple?” Zach asked, and couldn’t help frowning, because Clark seemed far more feminine than he did masculine.
Clark closed his eyes, smiled and shook his head. The judge didn’t look offended at all.
“No, but in my opinion, I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to her.”
Judge Thurman chuckled, her smile affectionate, friendly.
“That is, until someone broke my arm and I’m leaving for three weeks to Puerto Vallarta. I can’t go on vacation until I know she’s going to be taken care of.” Clark looked at her, then Zach, with real concern in his eyes. “I may joke, but I’m very serious. Someone is trying to kill her and I’m worried.”
Zach nodded. “Start at the beginning. Tell me everything.”
“The judge only has just a few outlets of relaxation. Rocking the babies at the children’s hospital, Chicago step dance classes and going up to Lake Lanier and taking out her boat. She doesn’t have a steady anybody in her life, so last summer she took sailing lessons, but this year, I’m her dance partner.”
Zach looked at the judge, who was watching Clark with a smile on her face. “Please tell all my business, Clark.”
“He’s going to know your underwear color before too long, believe me. Really, Judge, I want you to be alive when I get back. He needs to know how I feel.”
She took a deep breath and looked at Zach, who instinctively knew Clark wasn’t her attacker. His concern was genuine. “Clark’s right, Judge,” Zach said. “I’ll be your bodyguard, your best friend—your everything—before this is over. And you, me. But your secrets will always be safe with me. Finish telling me what happened, Judge.”
“Last Friday night we finished dance class about nine forty-five and stopped at Brickstone for ice cream. The next thing you know, two men grab me, and Clark starts beating them with a tire iron.”
“Was this in the parking lot? Was it before or after you came out of the ice cream store?” Zach asked, looking at Clark’s arm, then at the judge.
“After we exited.”
“Did you notice them following you?”
“No,” Clark said, looking guilty. “But we don’t pay attention like we should. Sometimes we window-shop or get our nails done. We’re really good friends as well as coworkers. We work well professionally, and the judge is a very private person. I respect that.”
Zach looked at their nails and noticed the manicures. He nodded, then shook his head. “I understand the need for discretion, but you also have to trust someone, and that’s Clark.” She nodded. “Okay,” Zach continued, “where’d the tire iron come from?”
“I keep it beneath the back of the driver’s seat. Last year a man tried to rob me outside the gym, so I keep a weapon in my car and in the judge’s car. Anyway, Friday, I got the car door open and got the tire iron, but the bigger man got it away from me. He hit me on my arm with such force, my arm
