PRAISE FOR CARA PUTMAN
“A legal thriller that takes on a burning social issue and the role of faith and strength in meeting that challenge. Like all good storytellers, Cara Putman makes you care. She is at the top of her game with Imperfect Justice.”
—JAMES SCOTT BELL, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF ROMEO’S RULES
“Imperfect Justice tackles a gritty subject, and Cara Putman writes with finesse and delicate sensitivity. This legal thriller had me turning pages long after even lawyers have retired for the night, and the fine threads of romance and faith brought hope where often there is none. With a superior story of law and crime, the verdict is in: Imperfect Justice will stick with you long after you’ve devoured the last gripping page.”
—JAIME JO WRIGHT, AUTHOR OF THE HOUSE ON FOSTER HILL
“With its menacing mood, crisp dialog, and quick pace, Putman’s action-packed legal thriller highlights a complex political scene. Starring a determined female attorney who will stop at nothing to resolve her case, this title will please fans of Joel C. Rosenberg and John Grisham.”
—LIBRARY JOURNAL ON BEYOND JUSTICE
“Putman’s new legal thriller is exciting from start to finish. The author builds suspense throughout and, just like real life, it’s not easy to distinguish the good people from the bad. This story is well thought-out and incredibly detailed. The author’s expertise shines through and adds a tremendous amount of credibility to the story. Danger, adventure and intrigue pour from every chapter.”
—RT BOOK REVIEWS, 4 STARS, ON BEYOND JUSTICE
“. . . a relatable and fascinating story . . . Remarkably akin to today’s news headlines . . . a legal thriller that is intricately written to keep readers on edge.”
—CHRISTIAN MARKET, ON BEYOND JUSTICE
“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
© 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.
Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™
Other Scripture quotations are taken from The Message. Copyright © by Eugene H. Peterson 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002. Used by permission of NavPress. All rights reserved. Represented by Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
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.
Epub Edition October 2017 ISBN 9780718083502
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Putman, Cara C., author.
Title: Imperfect justice / Cara C. Putman.
Description: Nashville, Tennessee : Thomas Nelson, [2017] | Series: Hidden justice; 2
Identifiers: LCCN 2017029606 | ISBN 9780718083489 (paperback)
Subjects: LCSH: Women lawyers--Fiction. | Murder--Investigation--Fiction.
GSAFD: Christian fiction. | Mystery fiction. | Legal stories.
Classification: LCC PS3616.U85 147 2017 | DDC 813/.6-dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017029606
Printed in the United States of America
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To MY READERS:
Thank you for reading these stories. I can’t tell you how many times
an e-mail, tweet, Facebook post, or other contact with you spurs me
on with each story. Thank you for taking what are mere words and
breathing life into them by reading my novels.
TO AMANDA BOSTIC & LB NORTON:
We had to dig deep to pull this story out. Thank you so much for your
care and investment in Emilie and Reid’s story and in me. It is a true
privilege to write with you!
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Acknowledgments
Discussion Questions
About the Author
PROLOGUE
As he reviewed the logs from Kaylene’s car, he was impressed. She was venturing beyond the short leash he had given her. So long as she remembered he was in charge, all would be well. But he sensed a growing resistance.
He stroked his chin as he leaned into the computer screen. There was a pattern here. Once he uncovered it he would know how to rein her in and remind her that she lived for his pleasure. He could bring her back into compliance. One moment was all it would take.
But first he had to know where she strayed.
The combination of the tracker and her phone log gave him a perfect picture of her comings and goings. Grocery stores, library, that church she used as a crutch. All were locations he approved.
But this repeated stop at a strip mall that held a CPA’s office, a dry cleaner, a coffee shop, and a women’s resource center . . .
Kaylene’s stops were too long to be dropping off or picking up clothing. He handled their finances; she wouldn’t be visiting an accountant. And Kaylene didn’t drink coffee.
So what was she doing at the center? He snorted. Women’s resource center. What a joke. He’d looked it up. While cloaked in benign words, its purpose was more invasive. It existed to rip families apart.
It was time to up his surveillance. She always went on Thursdays when the girls had piano.
She’d underestimated him, something she wouldn’t do twice. He’d make sure of it.
Maybe he’d create something else for her to do this Thursday. An errand perfectly timed to disrupt her plans. A grim smile grew across his face as he cracked his knuckles. That was perfect. If she protested, he’d know he’d been too lenient.
It was time to remind her who was in control.
CHAPTER 1
Emilie Wesley glanced at her watch and frowned. In fifteen minutes her client would take a critical step toward freedom. It was a step that had taken months of preparation and more than a little bit of counseling and backbone stiffening. Now all that work, time, and effort would culminate in a protective order. Emilie would step to the background, her role in helping Kaylene Adams alter her abusive present finished.
When she’d finally received the text saying her client was ready to file, Emilie had jumped into action. She wanted to file it before Kaylene changed her mind. Emilie knew from hard experience that could happen in a moment.
But before the judge would grant a protective order, Kaylene had to appear in court.
Without her testimony, the motion was a complete no go.
Emilie stopped pacing and tapped the face of her watch, then pressed it to her ear. The steady tick, tick affirmed it was working. What wasn’t working was Kaylene’s promise to meet her forty-five minutes before the hearing at the Haven, the nonprofit that served women who wanted to escape difficult domestic situations.
She had waited in her office as long as she could before calling Kaylene’s cell phone, a call that went directly to voicemail. She’d left a message and then told Taylor Adele, her paralegal, that she was headed to court. Maybe Kaylene had misunderstood where they were meeting. She could be a nervous wreck, waiting outside the courtroom for Emilie to arrive.
Emilie had almost convinced herself that was exactly what had happened until she reached the broad hallway outside the courtroom and couldn’t find her client. She pulled her cell phone from her briefcase and called Taylor.
“Any sign of Kaylene?”
“None.”
“You’re sure? She’s got to be somewhere.” There was a churning in her gut that left Emilie unsettled, fearing what could have happened.
In the practice of law, clients were people you served during normal business hours and then forgot about when you left the office. Somewhere in her three years at the Haven that had stopped working. She sometimes woke up in the middle of the night panicking over a client’s situation—and this was such a case. Kaylene’s situation bordered on tenuous even after all the detailed planning and careful work. Her home life was one spark away from erupting, and there was so little Emilie could do to prevent it or protect Kaylene and her girls.
“Want me to keep calling?” Taylor’s words penetrated her worried mind.
“Yes. I need to know she’s okay.”
“She probably got snagged in traffic somewhere. You know how 66 is.”
“Stop-and-go all hours of the day.” That was exactly why she’d bought a town house that was ridiculously expensive but also incredibly close to where she worked. Vehicles were made to move, not sit in lanes of traffic. “You’re likely right. Let me know if you reach her.”
Meanwhile, Emilie would check the courtroom just in case Kaylene had slipped around her. An unlikely scenario, but she felt ripples of desperation.
The courtroom was quiet, the dark wood lining the walls somber and weighty. It was surprisingly empty for a Monday morning, a circumstance that would change in the coming minutes unless the judge had canceled the general motion hour. That happened if the court had a jury trial or series of hearings calendared. This morning the only people in the courtroom were a court reporter seated at a computer near the front of the room and the judge.
Judge Emma Franklin had served the people of Alexandria City for fifteen years. She glanced up from the file resting on the large desk in front of her and acknowledged Emilie. “You ready, Miss Wesley?”
“Not quite, Your Honor. My client is on her way.” She hoped. “Can we have a few more minutes?”
“The hearing is slated to begin in five, and I have ten minutes after that.”
“This won’t take long. I’m sure she’s looking for parking.”
The judge slid reading glasses down her nose and eyed Emilie, her gaze direct and not without warmth. “You understand your client has to be here to receive a temporary protective order.”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Emilie fought to keep her tone respectful—the judge knew she understood that. “I’ll check the hallway for her again. The courthouse can be intimidating.”
“It’s easy to forget that when one works here. Good luck.” Judge Franklin turned back to her files, and Emilie hurried to the doors leading to the hall.
The moment she exited the courtroom, she stepped to the side and pulled out her cell. A text from Taylor flashed on her screen. Still no answer
Emilie frowned and pulled up Kaylene’s number. She hit call and waited for what felt like forever for anyone to pick up. Something was wrong. She hit redial and still no one picked up. The call finally went to voicemail, and she left a brief message: “Kaylene, tell me you’re okay.”
When she’d started working with domestic violence victims, Emilie had naively believed she could fix their lives—or at least take her skill with words and use it to help these women navigate their turbulent lives.
She’d learned the hard way it wasn’t that simple.
If she wanted hope, she should have focused on adoptions.
Instead, she dealt with the real-world dysfunction that kept two people from sustaining a relationship. Where one or the other, sometimes both, fed off a destructive cycle of control and pain.
Did any of Kaylene’s neighbors have any idea what happened behind her closed doors?
Probably not.
One or two might suspect, but it wouldn’t have risen to the level of intervention.
That was one tragedy of relationship violence. If you didn’t see the bruise, you could pretend it didn’t exist. If you never thought about the disproportionate number of broken bones, you could believe someone simply had a string of bad luck. Happens to the best of us. After all, a grown woman could always flee if her situation got dangerous, unlike a child trapped in the power of someone bigger and stronger.
It was a fiction, but a fiction people chose to embrace.
Emilie walked down the side staircase to the first floor and checked with security. Then she searched the bathrooms on each floor. Still no sign of Kaylene.<
br />
She glanced at her watch as she hurried back to the courtroom. They were out of time, and she’d have to beg Judge Franklin for leniency in the hope Kaylene would eventually appear.
Had Robert, her husband, somehow found out what she was doing?
That was a worst-case scenario, one that could lead only to even worse scenarios. Emilie dislodged the thought as she reentered the courtroom.
“There you are, Ms. Wesley. Did you find your client?”
“No, Your Honor. I’m afraid we’ll have to ask for a continuance.”
Judge Franklin watched her for a moment, but Emilie refused to shift or fidget. “All right. You can handle that with my clerk.”
“Thank you.” She hurried from the room and scanned the hallway again as she walked around the corner to the judge’s office. It only took a moment to reschedule for the next morning, and then she called Taylor. “I’m going to search the courthouse one more time, then head back.”
“All right. I’ll call you the moment I hear from her.”
“Thanks.” Emilie slipped her phone into the side pocket of her Italian leather briefcase. For a moment her thoughts flitted to her graduation trip to Florence and the open-air market where her mom had insisted she buy the briefcase so she’d look the part of an attorney. She shook her head. The memory of her hope and optimism that day disappeared in a wave of fear.
There were a few more people about as Emilie looked into courtrooms and checked the bathrooms one more time. Kaylene wouldn’t be the first client who’d had the courage to start the process only to have it fail when she most needed it.
As Emilie walked down the first floor toward the exit, a detective strode toward her. She didn’t know Detective Gaines well, but the man had been around a long time and might be able to help. She hurried to him, her heels clicking against the stone floor.
“Detective Gaines, do you have a moment?”
“Not really.” His gaze was intent, if slightly unfocused, as if he was preoccupied with whatever matter had brought him to the courthouse.
“My client was supposed to meet me here to get a protective order in front of Judge Franklin. She didn’t show.”
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