Heather Woodhaven - Credible Threat

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Deputy United States Marshal Kurt Brock lengthened his stride down the hospital hallway. The smell of antiseptic burned the back of his throat. Tension in the back of his neck begged for some time in his massage chair at home, but time didn’t allow it.

He had made it home at midnight, after a successful capture of a fugitive in Montana, only to be beckoned by a federal judge at five in the morning. Hopefully the visit would be quick and he could go back to a much-needed couple days off. While he didn’t work for the judges, he served them. When a federal judge had a need, the Marshals jumped to try to accommodate.

He stepped in front of a closed hospital door where his coworker, Deputy Delaney Patton, stood guard. Kurt nodded and straightened his tie. They didn’t know each other well enough to chitchat—not that he was one to shoot the breeze—as their paths didn’t cross very often. Kurt usually worked alone. He lifted his chin and searched for any sign of the stocky judge.

“The judge went to the cafeteria to get coffee.” Delaney shook her head, the light brown hair from her ponytail swishing in an arc. “He won’t let anyone take a statement from her but you. Word from the boss is he wants you to lead the investigation. I’m to assist in any way you see fit. She’s ready to bolt, so the sooner you talk to her the better.” Delaney stepped to the side.

Kurt inhaled. Without a full briefing, all he knew was that the judge’s granddaughter had barely escaped a kidnapping attempt. He steeled himself for the worst. Seeing a child hurt was the worst part of his job. He pressed the swinging door. “US Marshals. May I come in?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” a soft, sweet voice replied.

He stepped past a curtain and felt his eyes widen as he stared at the gorgeous woman before him. This was no child.

She pulled her chin inward at the sight of him. She worried her lip and pulled up the hospital sheet with one hand. Her other hand brushed her curly brown hair, marred only by an oddly positioned gauze headband of sorts, away from her face.

Kurt realized his surprise at her appearance had likely caused the self-conscious actions. “I don’t mean to stare.”

“It’s okay. I know I must be a sight.”

“No, no, you look...uh—” He exhaled loudly. Sleep usually helped with foot-in-mouth disease and he was sorely lacking. He needed to start over and hope the deputy outside hadn’t heard his social blunder. “When I heard Judge Linn’s granddaughter was here, I expected someone younger. I’ve never come right out and asked the judge’s age—” Oh, great. First the granddaughter thought he was appalled by her appearance and now it sounded like he had opinions about how soon the judge had started having kids.

Her eyebrows rose before she nodded, a small laugh escaping. “He’s eighty-six. He’s almost got sixty years on me.” Her fingers rolled the edge of the blanket like a scroll.

“Judge Linn looks young for his age, then.” Kurt hoped that cleared the air so he could begin again. Over 10 percent of the sitting judges were in their eighties, but Judge Linn had more drive and passion than most sixty-year-olds. “Are you up for talking about what happened?”

She dropped the sheet from her fingertips. “Oh, yes.” She gingerly touched the gauze underneath her hair. “I could’ve gone home last night, according to one of the nurses, but Grandpa insisted the doctors keep me overnight as a precaution.” She eyed him as if trying to decide whether to trust him. “When Grandpa wants something, he usually gets it, so I didn’t argue.”

Kurt ignored that potential minefield. “Concussion?”

“Maybe. I didn’t pay much attention to what the doctor said after the events of the night. I...uh...kept trying to remember more. Identifying factors.” She turned her attention to the window. “The headache wasn’t much fun, either, but that’s gone away. Just a little stiff and sore.” She let her head sink back into the stack of pillows behind her. “I hit a rock near the base of my neck. Thankfully my muscles and skull took most of the impact instead of my spine.”

He’d had enough similar close calls to know the pain and stiffness had to be intense. “My understanding is someone almost ran you over when you tried to get help.”

She sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “A teenager. He said he didn’t see me until it was almost too late, but he waited with me in the ditch until the police came.”

The driver probably didn’t want to admit that he had been on his cell phone while driving. Kurt held back his frustration but hoped the cops who’d arrived on the scene had scared the kid enough with scenarios of what could’ve happened that the boy would never text and drive again. “And the attacker?”

She shook her head. “No sign. The police didn’t find him.”

Delaney walked inside the room from her spot at the door. “I received confirmation that the assailant turned off the security cameras at the front patio, so we don’t have any footage.”

Kurt’s heart rate increased as he thought about the judge’s house. “He bypassed the security system?”

“No alarm. The panic button did nothing,” Rebecca answered.

He knew the security system well. Top-of-the-line wireless security system with cellular backup. He’d approved it last year with the chief deputy’s blessing before it was installed. They liked to keep systems up-to-date and replaced them at regular intervals. The kidnapping attempt was alarming by itself, but knowing how to disarm technology like that wasn’t normal for a run-of-the-mill criminal. He schooled his features as if it was an everyday occurrence. He didn’t need to upset her further. “Okay. Anything you can tell me about your attacker? Any recognizable features?”

“He was in a mask. A black ski mask. He wore...” She licked her lips and looked up at the ceiling tiles as she blinked rapidly. “I can’t remember.”

Shame filled her voice; an understandable sentiment but unnecessary. Victims often had a tough time remembering those details. “Don’t beat yourself up or try to push it. It’s been hours, you’ve had a bump on your head and—”

“I’d recognize his eyes and his voice. I’m sure of it. He had a unique accent.”

“Do you know what kind?”

She shook her head. “Foreign. Not European. Someone who spoke Spanish but more of the Latin variety.” She shrugged. “I know it’s not very helpful, but it’s all—”

“You’re doing great. What exactly did he say to you?”

The door to the room swung inward and Justice Linn strode past Delaney and Kurt with two cups of coffee in his hands. He wore a colorful sweater that reminded Kurt of the early nineties, tan slacks and matching loafers. His hair, while thinning on top, was a blend of brown and gray that looked natural.

It was no wonder Kurt thought he was younger. He nodded at the judge. “Chief Justice Li—”

“Brock, it’s about time you showed up.” His forceful tone would make a less confident man feel nervous. The judge didn’t make eye contact, but handed his granddaughter the cup. “Here you go, sweetie.” He spun around. “I requested you. I want someone with experience on this, and I want it dealt with immediately.”

Since they had only two deputy marshals stationed in the Coeur D’Alene office, and Delaney was a newbie fresh out of basic training, it seemed a reasonable request. Kurt hoped Delaney didn’t take it as a slight against her. “Sir, I’m afraid I haven’t finished interview—”

“Someone attempted to kidnap my granddaughter last night.” The judge’s bloodshot eyes scanned the room as his lower lip quivered. “There’s no question about it. I want this treated as a direct threat to the court.” He pointed his index finger at the ground as if physically punctuating the sentence.