Imperfect Justice

by Cara C. Putman

  She fast-walked toward Tide Lock Park, seeking a moment of peace and clarity. There was something about the sliver of green next to the Potomac that gave her a sense of time and space. It had been part of the lock system to move boats along the river until it flooded in the 1820s. If this thin slice of beauty could bring peace, surely there was a similar slice in her life that could do the same.

  She sank onto the steps and listened to the quiet waterfall as it splashed between two eyes and then down to a pool filled with freestanding sculptures of eyes and mouths and other broken pieces of white stone. It felt like the arrow piercing one of the white blocks of marble had pierced her own heart.

  She was hemorrhaging inside from the pain of years of client experiences, Kaylene being the ultimate catalyst for her crisis. Her capacity to feel and care was emptied. She’d seen too much, heard too much, experienced too much. Her heart had cracked along fault lines, and she couldn’t process the borrowed pain or her inability to truly help her clients.

  Don’t abandon Me, because I will never abandon you.

  The words whispered in her mind like the mist from the waterfall brushing her face.

  The words insisted they should be understood and remembered, but they felt devoid of any true, compelling meaning.

  I am still here.

  She closed her eyes against the emotion the words released.

  How did God know she felt so alone? She had friends. Good ones. She lived with one of her best friends. Yet lately it felt she sat somehow separate and apart. She could be with them, yet feel no connection at the soul level.

  As she sat there she watched a steady stream of joggers pound by, some with leashed dogs, others pushing strollers, more with headphones, sweat pouring down their faces and backs. She kept an eye on them, but no one paid attention to her where she sat in the fog of humidity by the waterfall. If she squinted it seemed she could see someone in the mist, much as it seemed her heart could hear that still, small voice.

  Oh, she wanted to believe God was still there and saw her. But if it were so, wouldn’t He have kept Kaylene and Kaydence safe? Would Kinley be lingering in ICU betwixt and between?

  Why did He remain in the shadows when she needed Him most?

  Emilie stepped through the back door and took off her shoes. Hayden was cleaning the kitchen, a diffuser releasing a citrusy smell in the air as Young & Free played from her phone. Emilie could feel the energy flow around her. She crossed the floor to drop her empty water bottle into the kitchen sink.

  “Hey. Can’t you see I’m cleaning?” Hayden’s dark shoulder-length hair was pulled in a messy bun that looked perfect, and she was dressed for a night out.

  “That’s why I knew you wouldn’t mind one more.” Emilie slid past her to the fridge. “What’s with the deep-clean?” While the roommates usually kept the space neat, this went well beyond wiping the counter with a Lysol wipe and putting dishes away.

  “Andrew’s coming for dinner. I hope that’s all right.”

  “Considering I introduced y’all over a pan of my lasagna, how can I say no?” Emilie forced a bright smile. She had known Hayden and Andrew were perfect for each other and ready to risk their individual fears for love. She hadn’t thought through how it would make her an occasional outsider in her home.

  “You’re welcome to join us.”

  “Third wheel alert.”

  “Emilie, you know that’s not true.”

  “Who am I to get in the way of you staring into the dreamy eyes of the most eligible bachelor in DC?”

  “We’ll move gazing to the patio.”

  There’d be more than gazing, and they both knew it. Emilie was happy for them. Which was why she could force the smiles her cousin and best friend expected even as she asked God if it would ever be her turn.

  She was a mess. One minute she couldn’t stand the thought of a man because she was so weighed down by her clients’ experiences and collective baggage; the next she whined about the fact that her man hadn’t appeared yet.

  Hayden laughed and then wiped the counter down one more time. “You’ve got that look again.”

  “Which one is that?”

  “The one you used to get in property when Prof Dinkens asked you to explain which parcel of land was subservient in the easement scenario.”

  “Don’t remind me.” She’d had nightmares of drawing and redrawing lines for hours that month. “You know what the best part of law school was?”

  “The day we graduated.”

  “Yep.” Although she wouldn’t trade the friendships she’d made, she hadn’t been cut out for it like her friends. She’d fought hard to eke her way into honors. But she’d had a good time even if that had meant participating in a few mandatory rituals like being called on by professors and that ridiculous Moot Court competition. She’d loved other aspects, such as Inn of Court and writing for a journal.

  “Where’d you go?”

  Emilie jerked from her thoughts and found Hayden’s concerned gaze on her. “Sorry.”

  “You okay?”

  “Sure.” Emilie pulled a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water. She took a long drink to buy time for Hayden to jump in before she had to continue. “How are your cases? The judges keeping you busy?”

  “Busy enough. Have you thought about Savannah’s offer? I can’t help thinking you’d be happier working on another kind of law.”

  “Like what? This is all I’ve done.” Emilie had known the big firms weren’t for her as much as they’d known she wasn’t for them.

  “You’re always haunted. And you haven’t relaxed since the accident in April. I’m ready to rent a cabin on some quiet place like St. Simon’s Island and send you there to recover.”

  “While that sounds lovely . . . ” Well, not really. The thought of being so far from people she knew sounded lonely. “I can’t leave. Besides, you can’t afford to rent a cabin.”

  “I didn’t say how nice the cabin would be.” Hayden chuckled, but when Emilie didn’t join her, her roommate folded her arms. “I’m worried about you.”

  “I’ll be okay.” I will be, won’t I, God? Somehow she’d fix this fear-laden malaise even if it meant forcing an act she didn’t feel. Fake it till you make it worked, right? “There’s no reason to abandon my job until I see you make it work.”

  “So now it’s on me to get you over there?”

  “Absolutely.” Emilie grinned at her roommate, a grin she felt all the way to her toes. “You’re setting the tone and expectation for me. If you can make this work, cobbling together court-appointed cases . . . ”

  “Don’t forget I do have a few cases, thanks to the Rodriguez matter.”

  “Yeah, the Department of Justice is quaking in its boots.” Hayden quirked a face, and Emilie laughed. “I appreciate the thought, Hayden, I really do.”

  “But . . . ”

  “But there’s too much I don’t know right now.” Where she fit was a big question. Especially as a knock rapped against the front door, and a huge smile erupted on Hayden’s face. She needed to know God had a place for her. If the Haven wasn’t it, she didn’t want to rush into another almost, but not quite right position. The emotional cost was too high. She wanted to find that place where her passions matched her talents and she didn’t feel like she was ready to fall into fear.

  She gazed at her roommate who, looking gorgeous, knowing her man was on the other side, unlocked the door. Emilie waited in the kitchen to give them a moment alone and felt the weight of her personal torment.

  She needed a change, a fresh start. But she wasn’t convinced that taking a risky job on her own was the way to get the change she needed. That wouldn’t address the change it might take to shake her stalker either. At the same time, as she watched her cousin kiss her roommate, she felt the need to be far away from her home.

  CHAPTER 25

  Her cell phone rang next to her on the chintz couch in the basement. Hayden and Andrew were upstairs, and while they’d invited
her to join them, she’d opted to watch a movie in the basement and give them space.

  She flicked a finger across the screen. “This is Emilie.”

  For a moment there was complete silence, then she heard slow, deep breathing.

  “Who is this?”

  “No one important. You made sure of that.” The voice was muffled, indistinguishable.

  “You don’t scare me.” Emilie’s mind raced as she scrambled to grab a pen and slide a pad of paper in front of her. She quickly jotted down what little the person had said and then glanced at the display for the phone number. Unlisted. Of course.

  “You heard me.” More heavy breathing as Emilie tried to ignore the slight tremble in her fingers. “But you won’t forever.”

  “I don’t understand.” Her words were halted by the buzz of a dead line. She glanced at the phone, then hung it up. Her mind raced as she jotted down the last words and then read them all.

  She hit *69, but the call didn’t go through.

  What did the caller mean that she’d made sure he wasn’t important? She hurriedly dialed Miranda Roberts’s number and left another message. There was little the officer could do to help, but Emilie wanted the woman to have a record that her stalker had escalated to calling her . . . though there had been no other mysterious gifts left on her car.

  She rubbed her forehead as she leaned against her desk and reread the words. The call had been short, less than twenty seconds. Not long enough to identify who it was or understand the meaning behind the call.

  This month had been too much, and she was over it.

  She pulled up the soundtrack to the Chronicles of Narnia on her phone and closed her eyes as the sweeping music built to a crescendo before cascading down to a trickle. The swell and diminuendo formed perfect counterbalances, holding her attention as she relaxed.

  After the forced period of relaxation, it was time for action. She collected a notebook, her appointment calendar, and a stack of notes from a side table. She grabbed her sleeve of multicolored erasable pens, since it was easier to write down what she needed to do if it was in pretty colors and any mistakes could be easily swept from the page. Then she sank onto her love seat with a sigh.

  Where to start?

  January wasn’t too far back.

  She flipped to the beginning of the year and quickly scanned week by week. In January she hadn’t noted anything unusual. February looked equally normal. It was in March that she’d made her first notation about something odd. It was something she’d learned to do her first year at Mason when a boyfriend had transferred his anger to her after she’d had a protective order filed against him. A week with a detective coaching her, and she’d gathered sufficient evidence to have the man arrested with certainty of a conviction. That experience had made the Haven the perfect job for her. She understood what these women experienced and could walk them to the other side of their stories as the detective had helped her.

  The March entry looked innocuous enough. Thought someone followed me as I walked home. Probably my imagination. It’s been a long week.

  As she examined the spread for that week, it came back to her with startling clarity. She’d had two short divorce trials. In both the husband had been angry about custody, insisting the children should be with him. But she’d had the expert testimony to show the damage that had been done to the kids, physical in one case and psychological in the other. The guardians ad litem had sided with her, as had both judges.

  It had been a case of what needed to happen being clear, but the men hadn’t agreed.

  Could either of them have followed her?

  The week had ended with the Haven’s annual banquet. Such an exhausting night.

  In April she’d had a series of hang-ups, enough that she’d changed her number and immediately placed it on all the do-not-call lists. That had ended the phone calls.

  But as she scanned the calendar more closely she noted that she’d made one other entry about a package that arrived. It had ticked after delivery, as if on a timer. Johanna, the receptionist, had immediately put the package out back and called the police. Because of their clients, the Alexandria City police had an officer there in minutes. He’d called in the bomb squad, but after a thorough inspection the squad had opened it to find a ticking clock and a few sticks that were supposed to look like dynamite. Scary but not dangerous. Emilie hadn’t mentioned the incident to Hayden, because her roommate had been in the middle of a massive trial for one of her court-appointed clients, a trial she had gone on to win decisively with a little of her sleight-of-hand legal magic.

  The incident had moved to the back of her mind then, because Hayden became embroiled in the Rodriguez case, which bled over to Emilie’s life. Add in working a little romance wonder for Andrew and Hayden, and then the car accident on Rock Creek Parkway.

  The car accident had left Emilie shaken and convinced that someone was out to get her. The park service had been thinning the deer population, and it really could be that a hunter had hit her car by mistake. But the person must have been a terrible shot.

  She’d tried hard to believe it was a case of wrong place wrong time. Those sorts of things happened all the time. The split-second decision that changed a person’s life.

  But the truth was she wouldn’t have headed toward the parkway if she hadn’t received a text from a client requesting help. By the time she’d remembered that detail, the woman was gone. Off to South Carolina to stay with a relative, as Rhoda had encouraged. Emilie mentioned the text to the police officer, but he was more consumed with the spiraling drug case spreading around Hayden.

  So she’d let it go.

  What else could she do without losing her mind?

  She’d watched.

  Distance had crept in. She removed herself from the closeness of friendships. To protect them. To protect her.

  Emilie tried to pull her thoughts free, but as she tapped the pen against her lips, she felt lost. Encircled with fears. What if someone wanted to do more than scare her?

  Perfect love casts out fear. She knew that, but the truth barely dented her fears. She reached for her Bible on the small table next to the couch. Maybe if she saw those words in context she’d push the knowledge past her stubborn mind to her heart. She turned to 1 John chapter 4 and read:

  God is love. When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God and God lives in us. This way, love has the run of the house, becomes at home and mature in us, so that we’re free of worry on Judgment Day—our standing in the world is identical with Christ’s. There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love.

  What did well-formed love look like? She worked with women who needed to know that. They needed kindness and patience as they worked their way to freedom. But had that purpose somehow become corrupted as she worked with more women? Was it a combination of the 1 Corinthian 13 attributes read at every wedding, or did it look like the fruit of the Spirit? Either list seemed unattainable. On her best day she didn’t live half of either.

  Or was her focus off, and she was just supposed to love God well? Was that the beginning and end?

  She didn’t think so, since Jesus had clearly answered the religious leaders that the greatest command was to love God, and the second to love one’s neighbor as oneself. That’s what she was trying to do at the Haven. Love her neighbors, those who needed help because they were the least of these in many ways.

  Then why did she feel overwhelmed, afraid, and alone all at the same time?

  The sky darkened beyond his windows at Fletcher & Associates as Reid pushed back from his desk and rubbed his eyes. The research was coming together, but they’d need to do more to win the competition. Vince could replicate what they’d accomplished with a little hard work of his own, or by helping himself to information left carelessly on a desk. They needed appointments with the prospective clients t
o learn the details good research couldn’t always find. The personal stories and motivations that formed the foundation for long-term relationships.

  He pulled the first file to the center of his desk and then picked up his desk phone. But instead of dialing his client, he found himself calling Emilie. It wouldn’t hurt to get an update from her. See if she’d found a way to protect Kinley while they figured out what had happened.

  “Hello?” The voice was small, almost emotionless. A stark contrast to her usual enthusiasm.

  “You all right, Emilie?”

  “Sure.” She cleared her throat, and he bet if he were in the room with her, he would observe a startling transformation. “What’s up?”

  “Thought I’d see if you’d learned anything today.”

  “The diamonds are real. Probably worth thirty thousand as fast cash, maybe more.”

  “Those were her running funds.”

  “As soon as she sold them, she would have had time to hide and rebuild with the girls.”

  “Okay.” He let that reality sink in. “She was getting ready.”

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat again. “Maybe we should go talk to her neighbors tomorrow. They might be home since it’s a Sunday.”

  “That would work. I could get you around two.”

  “That sounds good.” She paused, then hurried forward. “Why’d you call? Really?”

  Could she see through him so easily? The thought didn’t leave him feeling exposed but relieved, like someone might care to get to know him. It would be easy to say the call was just about his concern for Kinley, but that wasn’t the whole truth.

  “Reid?”

  “Want to go to dinner with me tonight?” There was a pause. “If you have other plans, I understand. This is rather spontaneous.”

  “Did you say ‘rather’?” She laughed, and there was delight in her voice. “I think I’d like that. Especially if it means you might say things like that again. Can you pick me up at seven?”