by Cara Putman
PRAISE FOR CARA PUTMAN
“John Grisham, move over for attorney Cara Putman! Beyond Justice showcases Putman’s deft hand with pacing and authenticity to create an unputdownable novel that kept me on the edge of my seat. I loved the peek into the workings of Washington’s political scene as well. Beyond Justice is a spectacular novel, and I highly recommend it!”
—COLLEEN COBLE, USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR
“Cara Putman’s legal background has definitely been put to good use in this nail-biter of a romantic suspense/legal thriller. The tension is gripping and the suspense rarely lets up. The story should come with a warning label: Expect high blood pressure and no sleep if you start this book. You won’t be able to put this one down until the very end.”
—LYNETTE EASON, BESTSELLING, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF THE ELITE GUARDIANS SERIES
“Cara Putman’s expert legal mind shines in Beyond Justice as she weaves a gripping, suspenseful tale of intrigue that takes on one of the hardest issues of our time. Hayden McCarthy is one feisty heroine who doesn’t let anything get between her and the truth—no matter the cost—even if it’s her own life. John Grisham should watch his back!”
—JORDYN REDWOOD, AUTHOR OF THE BLOODLINE TRILOGY AND FRACTURED MEMORY
“Beyond Justice is a page-turning mix of action, mystery, and romance that wrestles with real-life issues. Cara Putman packs twists and turns into every chapter. I dare you to put this book down before you reach the end.”
—RICK ACKER, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF DEATH IN THE MIND’S EYE
“Cara Putman’s Beyond Justice is a great read featuring crisp writing, page-turning suspense, and a deeply satisfying ending. **Highly Recommended.**”
—CARRIE STUART PARKS, AUTHOR OF A CRY FROM THE DUST AND WHEN DEATH DRAWS NEAR
“Beyond Justice is a riveting read. I immediately connected with the heroine and devoured the pages of this legal thriller with many twists and turns, staying up way too late to finish the story. Putman is at the top of her game with this one—I recommend you don’t miss this one!”
—ROBIN CAROLL, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE ACCLAIMED EVIL SERIES
Beyond Justice
© 2017 by Cara Putman
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.
Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Putman, Cara C., author.
Title: Beyond justice / Cara C. Putman.
Description: Nashville, Tennessee : Thomas Nelson, 2017.
Epub Edition February 2017 ISBN 9780718083496
Identifiers: LCCN 2016047343 | ISBN 9780718083472 (softcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Women lawyers--Fiction. | GSAFD: Christian fiction. | Mystery
fiction. | Legal stories.
Classification: LCC PS3616.U85 B49 2017 | DDC 813/.6--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016047343
Printed in the United States of America
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To Eric for always believing in me through the crazy journey
of becoming a published author. You’ve lived every step of
this process with me and been my greatest cheerleader.
And to the Grove girls for making the
journey so much more fun.
CONTENTS
Praise for Cara Putman
January Chapter 1
January Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
February Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
April 1 Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Friday, April 7 Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
April 10 Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
April 13 Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
April 17 Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Acknowledgments
Discussion Questions
About the Author
JANUARY
If he didn’t find that flash drive now, he would have to disappear. Immediately. Some place el jefe couldn’t find him. It was that or die.
“Where is it, Miguel? What have you done with the information you stole?”
The young man shuddered as he choked on a breath. Blood poured from his nose, broken in the first punch, the horror of it fresh. Blood dribbled out his mouth. Blood dripped off his chin. Still he refused to speak.
Rafael drew back his fist, ready to strike again, then held his arm back as if against a powerful force. This was not who he was. It was not who Miguel was. All of this was so broken. Somehow he had landed on the wrong side of the great family his own had served for three generations. How was he now opposing the young man he loved like a brother? He scanned the bare room. Four bunk beds lined a wall. A urinal in the corner. A barren sink with a square mirror. A single light bulb hanging well above his head. Where could Miguel have hidden anything in this desolate place?
The stench of urine and sweat, of bodies crammed into a space designed for half as many, mixed with the coppery aroma of fresh blood. Limp sunlight pushed back the shadows from a barred window high on the wall. Sunlight that reminded him of the times Miguel had tagged along when Rafael did odd chores at the estate. Sunlight that reminded him how wrong it was for Miguel to be here. He was the son of a lord, not someone who should be locked up.
“Where is it, Miguel? I can’t ask again.” He flipped open the blade of the knife he held and slid it under Miguel’s chin. “Give it to me, or I have no choice but to kill you.”
Miguel flinched. “We always have a choice.” The youth lifted his chin and met Rafael’s gaze with pain-filled eyes. “We are brothers, Rafael.”
“We were. If you don’t give me that flash drive, we are both dead.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar! El jefe knows you were in his computer. He told me himself. He sent me.”
“You kill me, and my father will hunt
you like a rabid mongrel.” False bravado flashed in Miguel’s eyes.
“Your father told me to kill you, amigo.”
The spoken words resounded in the narrow space between them.
He looked at señor’s precious son. His heir.
Could he somehow take Miguel with him and disappear? No.
Would Miguel give him the list?
The boy raised dark eyes to meet his gaze, defiance hardening them.
Somehow Rafael had imagined he could avoid killing while serving the family even as he’d crept up its structure. But now he had no choice.
Retrieve the information for el jefe before it falls into the wrong hands or be killed.
Heat flooded him and red clouded his vision.
“I’m sorry, Miguel . . .” He stepped forward, knife clasped in his fist.
CHAPTER 1
THURSDAY, MARCH 30
The euphoria of winning a hard case vied in her thoughts with wondering what came next as Hayden McCarthy left the Alexandria courthouse. A colorful dance of tulips lined a flower box of the town house across the street, and the faint aroma of some hidden blossom scented the air. It was over.
Her client had needed her absolute best.
Hayden had delivered it and obtained justice.
She shifted her purse and readjusted her briefcase as she started down the street. Continue straight on King Street, and in a block she’d be at the office. Turn, and in four blocks she’d be home. Her town house’s proximity both to work and the heart of Old Town Alexandria was why she loved the space she shared with a friend from law school.
So . . . which way to go? The thought of going back to her office and confronting the waiting pile of work held no appeal. She would spend one night savoring success . . . and recovering from the adrenaline pace of a roller-coaster trial and jury.
She’d make a salad and cup of tea, maybe pick up a novel. If that didn’t hold her attention, she’d dig into her trial notes. Analyze what had worked and how the risk of requesting a new foreman after deliberations had begun had paid off.
Each step closer to home, her conservative navy pumps tapped the refrain. She. Had. Won. She let a smile spread across her face.
She left King Street and headed north on St. Asaph. Some of the buildings she passed housed businesses, but with each block the area became more residential. In one condo a senator lived. In another a congressman, next to him a chief of staff and other people with powerful political positions. When Hayden first moved to the city from small-town Nebraska, her head had turned at how easy it was to rub elbows with those who controlled destinies. Now it was only scandals or surprise retirements that caught her attention.
The evening was so pleasant she detoured and walked the couple blocks to Christ Church. The wrought iron fence around the church grounds beckoned her to settle in the shade of the stately trees. She opened the gate, then walked until she reached a bench. Settling on it, she breathed deeply and closed her eyes.
Father, thank You. It went well today.
She pushed against her eyes, daring relieved tears to fall.
There was no one else around, and Hayden sat quietly, waiting . . . for something. Here within the shelter of a church more than two hundred years old, shouldn’t she feel God’s presence?
Yet there was . . . nothing.
Not even a rustle of a breeze through the leaves that she could pretend was the Spirit moving.
I need You.
Still nothing. Then slowly she sensed His smile as warmth spread through her.
A couple came around the corner then, strolling along the garden path arm in arm, smiling at one another. They looked at ease and in tune as their strides matched.
What would it feel like to be that comfortable and safe with someone? To know you could trust another person with your most hidden parts? Hayden shook her head. Her life was full to the brim—no room for a relationship. She stood and walked the rest of the way home at a brisk pace.
When she reached her town house, she crossed the courtyard and dug her keys loose from the pit of her purse. The Wonder Woman key ring, a gift from a grateful client after she won what he called the unwinnable case, jiggled as she unlocked the door.
The moment she walked inside, Hayden kicked off her heels and set her bag on the chair next to the glass table by the door. Soft classical music flowed from the kitchen, and the aroma of something spicy filled the small space.
“Emilie?” Hayden leaned down to rub one of her arches, then straightened and moved toward the kitchen.
“Down here.” Emilie Wesley’s bubbly voice came from the stairway leading to the basement. “Can you check the oven for me?”
“Sure. What are you making?” Hayden moved around the granite countertop and turned on the oven light. Emilie was a wonderful cook, but she often got distracted. “Mmm, lasagna. Looks great. It’s bubbling around the edges, and the cheese looks perfect. You expecting company?”
Hayden opened the fridge and pulled out salad ingredients. A salad plus a glass of sweet tea and she could disappear into her room . . . though the pasta looked wonderful. If she was lucky, Emilie would save her some for lunch tomorrow.
Hayden was dicing a red pepper when two sets of footsteps echoed up the stairs.
“Look who stopped by, Hayden.”
“Hmm?” Hayden looked up and into clear blue eyes that matched the Potomac as it moved into the bay. His pressed khakis and Oxford with pullover sweater portrayed an understated GQ elegance that screamed old money and matched the clean haircut and polite smile that revealed teeth so perfect they might be caps. Andrew Wesley, her roommate’s cousin. She hadn’t seen him in years.
The knife slipped, and she felt a sharp pain in her finger. She turned on the tap and stuck her finger beneath the flow of cold water.
“Andrew, do you remember my roommate, Hayden McCarthy? Hayden, this is my cousin Andrew. It’s been a while, but I’m pretty sure y’all have met before.” Emilie’s eyes danced as she tugged the man into the room. His mouth curved into a relaxed grin, the look as familiar and practiced as Hayden’s in court.
The years had been good to Andrew Wesley. He’d been handsome when they’d first met, but now he was something more. He had the build of someone who worked out and took care of himself. Compact, muscular, and distractingly good-looking. Hayden pasted a smile into place.
“Hayden?” The deep voice was thick as the richest chocolate. “It’s nice to officially meet you—again.” He gave her a devastating smile. “Emilie is always talking about you.”
“Good things, I hope.” She grabbed a paper towel and turned off the water.
“What else would I say?” Emilie’s eyes widened as she saw blood seeping through the paper towel. “Ooh, do you need a Band-Aid?”
“I’ll be all right.” Hayden took a deep breath and met Andrew’s gaze. “Any friend—or cousin—of Emilie’s is welcome here.” With her good hand she scooped up the diced pepper and sprinkled it on top of the salad. “I’ll leave you two to enjoy your dinner. It looks good, Em.”
“You don’t need to leave, Hayden.” Emilie leaned closer, not hard to do in the galley space that felt even smaller with Andrew’s presence, and handed Hayden a fresh paper towel. “We’re working on plans for a spring festival. Think inflatables, fair food, and fun. It’s a community event for his non-profit.” She grabbed a purple grape from a bowl next to the sink and popped it into her mouth. “You can help us.”
His cousin’s roommate wrapped the paper towel tighter around her finger, then turned to the refrigerator, shielding her face from his view. Had they really met before? He had a vague recollection of an awkward girl visiting his cousin during a law school break, but his memory didn’t match this attractive woman with the black hair and . . . stocking feet.
As Hayden put away the vegetables she’d used for her salad, Andrew looked for something to break the uncomfortable silence.
“I like the idea of a festival, Em, but I’m not sur
e we can pull it off.”
“Oh? You already have the location.” Emilie claimed the pot holders and opened the oven. “We can do this because we’re the dynamic duo. Besides, you’ve got a staff and board of directors to help. We’ll create the framework, and they can do the rest.”
Andrew shook his head. “You haven’t worked much with a board. And don’t forget, I’m not the senior guy in the office.”
Emilie slid the pan from the oven and set it on top of the stove. “You’re a Wesley. Everyone takes one look at you and snaps to attention. Your dad is too powerful to tick off.” She softened the words with a smile. “You might as well embrace it.”
That was something that hadn’t happened yet in his thirty years. Being Scott Wesley’s son was like wearing a coat made for someone else.
He leaned against the counter and redirected the conversation—a skill he’d picked up from his father. “I’ve heard about Emilie’s day, Hayden. Tell me about yours.”
Hayden paused, salad dressing in hand. “I won a case today.”
“Oh?” He studied her face, but she didn’t give anything away. Not much of a talker?
She shrugged. “I kept an innocent man out of jail. So it was a great day for my client and his wife.”
“For you too.” Emilie stepped next to Hayden and squeezed her shoulder. “This woman worked a lot of late nights on that case and is on the fast track to becoming a partner.” Hayden started to protest, but Emilie kept on. “She’ll never brag about herself, but she’s good. Nobody will be surprised when she becomes the youngest partner in Elliott & Johnson history.”
Soft color tinted the woman’s cheeks, and she glanced at Andrew. “I’m not any better than a hundred other attorneys in town.”
Only a hundred, huh? In a city overwhelmed with attorneys, she’d ranked herself fairly high. Well, the last thing he wanted to do was spend free time with an attorney. He’d spent too much time in their presence growing up to be wowed by their brilliance or awed by their stories.