by Robin Caroll
“This is not a book you grab—this is a book that grabs you. A riveting thrill-ride, To Write a Wrong is Caroll at the top of her game. Heart-pounding suspense and romance make for a story with an all-too-real-edge that will leave you breathless til the end.”
~Tosca Lee, New York Times best-selling author of The Books of Mortals series with Ted Dekker
“There is no more talented romantic suspense author than Robin Caroll. From the first sentence, To Write a Wrong, grabbed me and pulled me into the story. Love Caroll’s books!”
~Colleen Coble, best-selling author of Tidewater Inn and the Rock Harbor series
“Robin Caroll’s To Write a Wrong shows an intensity that both wrenches and sings. With pulse-altering suspense and a startling authenticity in the emotions and relationships of the characters, Caroll tells a rhythmically rich story of imperfect people finding their way through impossible situations. Layered, entangled, and oh so satisfying, To Write a Wrong is Caroll’s best work ever.”
~Cynthia Ruchti, author of the Carol Award, RT Book Reviewers’ Choice, and Retailer’s Choice finalist They Almost Always Come Home
“To Write a Wrong is a mind-twisting suspense skillfully interwoven with a heartwarming romance taking readers on a rollercoaster of emotions. With characters you’ll love, hurt with, and fear for, the pages of this book will fly past, and you miss them once the adventure is over.”
~Vickie McDonough, award-winning author of twenty-five books and novellas
“Robin Caroll has done it again. To Write a Wrong is full of gripping characters and a page-turning suspense as real as true life events.”
~Cynthia Hickey, author of the Summer Meadows mysteries
“To Write a Wrong is an exquisite blend of medical, legal, and romantic suspense served up southern-style. Noble characters and authentic emotion amid Caroll’s expertly enacted pacing, rich setting depictions and adrenaline-infused action sequences made this thrilling plot play out like a riveting movie in my mind. Highly recommended.”
~Cheryl Wyatt, award-winning author of inspirational action-romance
“Robin Caroll delivers again. To Write a Wrong ups the ante when a reporter gets on the wrong side of a sadistic killer. The twists and turns just keep on coming until a surprise ending puts more than one wrong right.”
~Pam Hillman, author of Stealing Jake
“The sun beamed through the windows as I sat down with To Write a Wrong. Within five minutes I shivered. Was that a noise upstairs? My heart pounded and tension filled my chest, but I couldn’t put the book down! Robin Caroll’s writing grips your throat like a vice from the first page. Faith, suspense, romance. Forget going to the gym . . . my pounding heart was enough of a workout!”
~Tricia Goyer, author of thirty-two books, including Chasing Mona Lisa
“Robin Caroll is a gifted storyteller who draws you into the lives of her characters quickly and keeps you reading until the last page. To Write a Wrong is a fast paced suspense with just the right amount of romance.”
~ Margaret Daley, award-winning author
“In To Write a Wrong, Robin Caroll has created the perfect blend of mystery, suspense, and romance to keep you rooting for the good guys . . . and eager to have justice served to the bad guys in a BIG way!”
~Alice K. Arenz, author of Mirrored Image and the Carol Award winning The Case of the Mystified M.D.
Other Novels by Robin Caroll
Justice Seekers Series
Injustice for All
Evil Series
Deliver Us from Evil
Fear No Evil
In the Shadow of Evil
Bayou Series
Bayou Justice
Bayou Corruption
Bayou Judgment
Bayou Paradox
Bayou Betrayal
Blackmail
Framed!
Dead Air
To Write A Wrong, Digital Edition
Based on Print Edition
Copyright © 2012 by Robin Miller
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America
978-1-4336-72132
Published by B&H Publishing Group,
Nashville, Tennessee
Dewey Decimal Classification: F
Subject Heading: JUSTICE—FICTION MYSTERY FICTION ROMANTIC SUSPENSE NOVEL
Scripture quotations or paraphrases are taken from the following versions: the Holy Bible, New International Version (NIV). Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.
Publisher’s Note: The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.
For Benton Alexander Miller Forgy
and Zayden Brody Forgy . . .
because Gran loves you so much.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Recipes
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgments
I cannot ask for a better publishing team than the ones with whom I work at B&H. They are so talented and work extremely hard behind the scenes to bring the novels to life. My heartfelt thanks to the whole Pure Enjoyment team, but especially to those I’ve been honored to work with closely on this novel: Julie Gwinn, Robin Patterson, Kim Stanford, Greg Pope, Haverly Penington, and Diana Lawrence. The vision of these amazing people push the Pure Enjoyment fiction line to the forefront in the industry. For everyone at B&H, thank you for being part of my publishing “family.” I truly appreciate each and every one of you for extending your talent and skill on my behalf.
I can’t thank my editor, Julee Schwarzburg, enough for taking the stories in my head and helping to refine them until they shine on the page. You are such an amazing editor, Julee, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart, for not only being an awesome editor, but a true friend. I stand in awe of you.
This book dealt with minute details of our legal system, probation and parole system, medical details, and our prison system. Huge thanks to the following people for sharing their knowledge with me: Rick Acker, Dr. Skipper Bertrand, Dr. Richard Mabry, Cara Putman, and Dr. Ronda Wells. Any mistakes in the representation of legal issues are mine, where I twisted in the best interest of my story.
Thanks to Joyce S. Bridges and Robert F. Hancock (Director of Collections at the Museum of the Confederacy), who answered my tedious questions regarding the War between the States artifacts and values with
an enormous amount of patience and kindness. The “adjustments” I made were deliberate for fictional purposes.
While writing this book, I ran into a rough patch that included not being able to locate my favorite “writing food.” Wonderful readers that follow me on Facebook and Twitter heard of my plight. Special thanks to Susan and Tom Snodgrass for sending me a box of Tom’s Hot Fries so I could finish the book.
Special thanks to the CARA PUTMAN, for helping in plotting and reading this book through before I turned it in. You are amazing and I love you for all your assistance!
As always, there are many in the writing community who help me in so many ways, I can’t even begin to list them. My heartfelt thanks to: Colleen Coble, Pam Hillman, Ronie Kendig, Tosca Lee, Dineen Miller, Cara Putman, and Cheryl Wyatt.
My most sincere thanks to my awesome agent, Steve Laube (HP), who keeps me focused and on task, as well as remaining steady and calm when I need it. THANK YOU.
My extended family members are my biggest fans and greatest cheerleaders. Thank you for ALWAYS being in my corner: Mom and Papa, BB and Robert, Bek and Krys, Bubba and Lisa, Brandon, Rachel, Scott Yarbrough, and Aunt Millicent.
My deep gratitude for the feedback of first reader Lisa Burroughs who read this book for me before deadline, even while on vacation. Whatever would I do without your questions and comments?
I couldn’t do what I do without my girls—Emily Carol, Remington Case, and Isabella Co-Ceaux. I love each of you so much! Thank y’all so much for eating cereal for supper and letting me lock myself in my room when I needed to write. And my precious grandsons, Benton and Zayden, you are joys in my life.
There aren’t enough words to express the love and gratitude for my husband, Case. Thank you for putting up with my moods, crazy ideas, endless “what-if?” questions, erratic cooking ideas, and deadline insanity. I could not do this without you and I love you with all my heart.
Finally, all glory to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.
Prologue
A moonbeam stole in and sliced against the polished blade, casting an unanticipated glint across the room. A red indicator blazed on top of the security camera, even though it was no longer connected to the recording system. He knew because he’d cut the wires and disabled the system.
X, or was it Y?—it was impossible to tell with all four of them wearing the same mask—let out a hiss. “Stop playing around and put the sword in the bag.” X, definitely.
“Sabre, not sword,” he whispered to himself as he slipped the beautiful Civil War artifact into the velvet bag. He was Z, the last one selected for this special mission. The afterthought, but they’d needed a security systems person familiar with this particular setup. He’d never done anything like this before, probably wouldn’t again, but his son’s increasing medical bills had shoved him into desperation.
Y turned back to the task at hand, reaching for the book resting inside the opened glass case.
“No!” X shook his head. “We’re not supposed to take that.”
“But it looks like it’s worth a lot of money.” Y ran a gloved finger along the case. “Why can’t we take everything?”
X covered the short span of space between the men and grabbed Y’s black collar. “Because. We stick to the plan, we don’t get caught.”
They’d been over the details, ad nauseam. At least it seemed that way to him. They memorized the list of what to take . . . because W already had buyers lined up. They’d gone over again and again how to get in and out—everything was planned down to the last facet. He didn’t even know the other three men’s names. Oh, he knew Y’s name—Charlie was the one who’d contacted him for this job. Quick and easy, and a good, guaranteed payoff. So he went along with the plan, even the parts he thought silly, like addressing the others by initials only.
So far, everything had worked like a charm. He’d deactivated the security system easily. The extra security had been disposed of before they’d arrived on-site. Everything would go as it should, as long as they stuck to the plan.
“I’ve got it! We’re done.” W stepped onto the third floor, his commanding voice barely muffled by the mask. “Time to go.”
While he wasn’t supposed to know, he was pretty sure W was the private investigator who ran those discount coupons in the monthly sale circular.
“We still have a couple more things on our list,” X answered.
“No time. Move.” W silently led the way down the stairs to the first floor and out the back door.
The four men, all dressed in black, stole across the plush lawn, dodging the security lights. They slipped into the open side door of the black van, pulling in the four laden velvet bags. W shoved in the key and revved the engine. X reached for the side door’s handle.
“Hey!” A uniformed muscled mass of a man sprinted over the grass, drawing his weapon. “Stop!”
W punched the gas.
But Y didn’t hesitate. He pulled out a handgun, leveled it at the security officer, and pulled the trigger.
The man fell facedown onto the grass.
W slammed on the brakes. “You shot him? Are you crazy? You weren’t even supposed to have a gun!” Hysteria plowed from behind the mastermind’s mask. The man who seemed in control since the planning of this job.
Z’s chest tightened. A perfectly planned robbery had just escalated to armed robbery, assault, and possibly murder.
They were doomed.
He was doomed.
Chapter One
“Follow justice and justice alone, so that you may live and possess the land the LORD your God is giving you.”
DEUTERONOMY 16:20
Was she insane?
Lightning pulsed past the ominous clouds polluting the sky with their foreboding. She shouldn’t be here—every ounce of her screamed this was a bad idea. What had she been thinking?
That was the problem—Riley hadn’t been thinking lately. Her love life had come to a screeching halt. She’d messed up so badly at work that her boss awarded her a mandatory leave of absence until she redeemed herself, though how she could do that while on leave was a mystery. Now, the hearing. She should go home, bury her head under the covers, and just cry until she couldn’t cry any more.
Yet, she wouldn’t let herself leave.
Riley pressed her balled hands into her abdomen and leaned back against the door of her car. Her shoulders and neck were so tight and tense, the ache felt as if it’d taken up permanent residence. She’d lost almost ten pounds in the last two weeks, just from the stress of today. There were a million reasons for separate appearances before the board. Why hadn’t she heeded any of them?
Because her heart wouldn’t let her.
“Ms. Baxter?”
At the attorney’s deep baritone, Riley pushed off the dented, scratched compact and pivoted. She smoothed her pants with damp palms.
The cheap pinstriped suit jacket hung off Corey Patterson as he rushed across the parking lot. “I didn’t think you’d make it.” His blond hair glistened as lightning streaked across the sky again.
He’d sure tried enough times to discourage her. His arguments had almost worked. Just this morning, she’d debated using the weather as a possible excuse to back out. After all, as she heard on the news, April ushered in full tornado season in south Louisiana.
If the weather wasn’t bad enough, the barbed wire atop the fence as she entered the property almost did her in. Everyone would understand if she changed her mind. But if she didn’t show, she’d never be able to live with herself.
There was no other option. She had to look him in the eye, see if the crazed haze still glowered in those irises. Needed to see him in person, not on some impersonal terminal via videoconferencing, to know if he still wore the illness in the lines of his
face. She had to hear his voice to determine if the venom still bittered his words.
“I said I’d be here.” She eyed the crowded parking lot as she fell into step beside the aging prosecutor. So many people lining up to board the white visiting buses . . . mainly women and children. Some infants. It broke Riley’s heart. Why didn’t people think about the consequences on their families before they did something stupid? Such a waste.
The next clap of thunder didn’t cover Mr. Patterson’s heavy sigh. “You really shouldn’t have come. This won’t be good for you.” Those big, blue eyes of his stared into hers. He squeezed her upper arm.
She denied the urge to sigh herself, already mentally past the argument. They dodged the first raindrops as they made their way along the sidewalk, past the fence with rolls of barbed wire. Riley shivered, then followed Mr. Patterson through the green-trimmed door. The tips of her heels rat-a-tat-tatted on the polished brown tile.
“Wait here for a moment.” The attorney’s damp soles squeaked as he headed down the hall.
She leaned against the white cinder-block wall. Icy cold crept into her spine, chilling her from the inside out. Women and children moved like cattle to sign in for visitation. Her mouth went dry. What would it be like to have to visit someone you loved like this? Maybe that was the story she needed to get back in her editor’s good graces.
Jeremy was beyond furious with her. He’d accused her of letting her bias against criminals get in the way of good journalism. His yelled reprimand that she find emotion for the reader and ignore her own still rang in her ears. What better way to steal the hearts of readers than to expose the angles of pain worn raggedly on some of these women’s faces?
It would also prove she was capable of writing a story 100 percent unbiased against someone close to criminal involvement. Given the reason she was here and the emotional mess her life had become, that would be no easy feat.