Ch 1 The Kidnapping and Chase

Mark raced after his crew chief, the man he knew had sabotaged his racing car, adrenaline pumping through his veins, his speed was fueled by anger. He watched him climb into a sedan, and caught a glimpse of Hardcastle in the rear seat. He changed direction and headed for the Coyote to give chase, suddenly motivated less by anger, and more by fear and concern for the judge's safety. He jumped into the Coyote and headed out after the sedan, attracting police cars as he went, no doubt, courtesy of the judge's talk with the local detective, Bill Jenkins.

He watched the sedan crash, his heart pounding in his chest and stopped the Coyote and jumped out almost in one motion, then ran to the vehicle. He bent down as the door opened and Hardcastle started to climb out.

"You alright?" he asked, putting his hands on the judges chest and arm, surprised at the worry in his voice.

"Yeah. You coulda killed us, you know that?" Hardcastle groused, trying to deflect attention from McCormick's obvious concern. "Why does he sound so worried?" he thought to himself.

"You wanted to catch these guys didn't ya?" McCormick answered with a question, still holding on to his arm.

"You can book em right now," Milt pointed to detective Jenkins as he spoke, "armed assault and kidnapping."

"That's terrific Milt," Jenkins answered.

"And attempted murder, my crew chief sabotaged my car," added McCormick, still keeping a tight grip on the judge. "Common, sit down," he finished as Milt lowered himself down.

"Ya mean you dragged me all out here and you didn't even win?" Milt grumbled in a nasty tone that Mark realized meant nothing.

"Siddown," McCormick ordered, and stared at him. For some reason, he still couldn't make himself let go of the man. And it struck Mark as very strange that Milt hadn't pushed him away either. His movements suddenly seemed out of character and sent a shiver through McCormick.

"Are you okay?" McCormick asked again softly as he put a hand on each of Hardcastle's shoulders and knelt down in front of him. Noticing that the jurist was suddenly sweating and pale.

When the judge didn't answer, Mark glanced up at the uniformed officer nearby and asked him to call an ambulance.

"I'm gonna be sick," Hardcastle whispered as he leaned forward.

Mark moved to the side, and supported his forehead with one hand as he vomited. "Where does it hurt?"

Milt took in a few deep breaths, hoping to avoid being sick again. He didn't want anyone to see him this way. "My stomach, head," he paused, "mostly my stomach," he managed to say, "what happened?"

"Car accident, you got knocked around a bit," Mark answered. When Milt tried to sit upright, Mark gently kept his head down, "just rest this way while you get your bearings judge."

Milt was glad to have a reason to stay with his head on his knees. He was starting to feel better, but didn't want to risk passing out. He could hear a siren in the distance.

Mark glanced around, noticing a crowd that was beginning to gather. He motioned to a uniformed officer, who took a few steps closer. "Can you give us some privacy?" he asked, motioning to the many people who suddenly seemed to be milling around.

The officer immediately began to move the witness interviews to the other side of the vehicle. Mark kept his hands on Hardcastle, knowing that touching him was very out of the ordinary, but that it also suddenly seemed the right thing to do. "The only time we ever touch is during a basketball game when we're pounding each other," he thought to himself, yet somehow, he couldn't take his hands off the jurist. And what exactly was he feeling anyway, he wondered, worry?...fear?...or some kind of new reaction? or at least one he'd never before acknowledged. He put those thoughts aside as he knelt in front of the judge, holding onto him so he could catch him if he passed out, and it worried him more than a little that Hardcastle wasn't pushing him away.

Off to the side, a few feet away, Sandy scowled at Mark as he watched the scene.