Imperfect Justice

by Cara Putman

  “It was a service like the one you held for her killer.” The venom in Robert’s gaze knocked Reid backward.

  As Reid stumbled into the hallway and then walked to the nurses’ station, his mind filled with images of Kaylene and Robert over the years. What had started with such joy had slowly shifted. He’d known it couldn’t be all roses and candlelight, but now questions filled his mind.

  He stopped at the station, a desk with more monitors on it than a trading floor.

  A man in scrubs looked at him. “Can I help you?”

  “Can I get an update on Kinley Adams’s condition? She’s my niece.”

  The man clicked a few keys on the keyboard in front of him, then he frowned. “I’m sorry, but we can’t provide any information about her.”

  “I’m her uncle, and her father told me I could ask here.”

  The man frowned at the screen. “Sorry, but the father’s instructions are clear. Any information to third parties is to go through him.” He pointed down the hall. “You can find him down there.”

  “I already did. Thanks.”

  So Robert wanted to make sure he didn’t know about Kinley’s condition. Warning sirens blared in his head. Had Robert exercised this kind of control over Kaylene and somehow orchestrated her death? Had Kinley witnessed it? She must have, since she’d been injured in the shooting. If Robert was the only unscathed one, had he actually been the shooter? Reid scrubbed his face with his hands as he tried to wrap his head around the thought. As he made his way back to the elevator bank, he couldn’t reconcile the idea of Robert as the shooter with the video of Kaylene holding a gun, just as he couldn’t reconcile Kaylene as the shooter with the sister he had known and loved.

  He needed to talk to someone who knew Kaylene. That meant her attorney. He pulled out his cell and texted a message to Emilie Wesley. Maybe they could discuss what he thought and see how it lined up with what she knew. He hit send and hoped she wouldn’t ignore his text as he’d ignored hers. But if she did, he’d track her down.

  Finding out what had really happened was too important.

  CHAPTER 10

  As the taxi drove her from the hotel to the law firm where she’d rented a conference room for the day, Emilie glanced out the window toward the beach. She’d spent her time since arriving in Virginia Beach yesterday going through her notes and preparing for today’s deposition and tomorrow’s hearing back home. It felt right to be back at it, actively engaged in helping clients. She felt the clarion call in her soul to walk the sandy shore, but she resolutely stayed in place. There was something about the power of the waves and the tenacity of the sand that spoke to her. It whispered hope that she could withstand the waves crashing over her. God was bigger than the pressures she faced.

  The entire image of the empty beach with crashing waves and soaring seagulls reinforced the image. The gospel of Matthew was clear that God cared about the detailed needs of those birds; but if that were true, why did it so often feel like He overlooked the needs of her clients? With one breath, He could fix everything that was wrong in their lives, but He didn’t. She wasn’t sure she could ever reconcile that with the image of a grace-filled God.

  She shook her head. She needed to clear her scattered thoughts and focus on this deposition.

  It hadn’t been her choice to hold it so far from DC. It had been necessary to protect her client. Sandra’s ex had made it clear he would do anything and everything to find her and bring her back. Taylor had created an elaborate plan to misdirect him from their client’s actual location, and that misdirection had Sandra flying north from North Carolina while Emilie flew south.

  Emilie prayed it worked, because if something were to happen to Sandra, it would crush her.

  Sandra had worked too hard to break away from Garth.

  The moment Emilie stepped from the cab, her phone rang.

  “Can I come in now?” Sandra’s voice was quiet, but there was a core strength that hadn’t been present when she’d first met with Emilie to discuss her legal options.

  Emilie looked around as the taxi pulled from the curb. “I don’t see him.”

  “Have you checked the lobby?”

  “Not yet.” She waited for the doorman to open the door and then did another slow turn. “He’s not here. I think you’re safe.”

  Not a minute later a red Mustang convertible pulled to the curb. A curvy brunette slipped from the passenger side and headed toward the door. One would have to look close to see the blonde roots that hinted at a former appearance. Sandra hurried inside and offered Emilie a tentative hug before following her across the lobby.

  The ride up the elevator to the sixth floor was silent as Sandra played with the strap of her designer purse. Right before the doors opened, Emilie put a hand on hers to still the movement. “It will be okay. This firm knows to be alert for trouble.”

  Sandra took a deep breath, held it a moment, and then nodded as the doors slid open. “I’ll be fine.”

  As Emilie studied Sandra, she believed her. Sandra would make it. She would be fine.

  The two stopped briefly at the receptionist’s desk in the middle of a large lobby. A minute later a paralegal escorted them down a hallway lined with beautifully framed seascapes. Floor-to-ceiling glass sat on either side of a closed door, and sunlight poured from the room through the glass into the hallway. They stepped inside, and Emilie admired how light and open it felt even with a large table anchoring the room.

  “You can help yourself to water or a soda.” The young woman pointed toward a counter above the mini fridge. “There are notepads and pens there if you need them. If you need anything else, I’m at the desk around the corner.”

  “Thanks, I think you’ve provided everything.”

  The woman left, and Sandra sank onto a chair, then pushed a hand against her stomach. “I think I’m ready.”

  “You are.” Emilie’s gaze strayed to the hand that covered the spot where her client’s child grew. “This will be over soon.”

  “It has to be. At this rate I won’t be able to squeeze into Spanx much longer.” She smiled briefly, then her face grew serious.

  “I know.” That knowledge weighed on Emilie. She had to force this to an end as quickly as humanly possible. The challenge was managing opposing counsel and the ex, who could never know the child was his. His abuse had already caused two miscarriages.

  Twenty minutes later, when opposing counsel entered the reserved conference room, Emilie wanted to scream. Sandra’s ex sauntered in as well, looking debonair and angry. “He’s not supposed to be here.”

  Attorney Arnold Switzer sank onto a leather chair and set his briefcase on the stained mahogany table. “He has a right to hear everything she says, and I need him to assist with questioning.”

  Emilie turned to Sandra, expecting to see her client cowering in the chair. Unfortunately, if they called the judge, Switzer would likely win. Sandra sat with perfect posture, chin slightly tipped, gaze focused straight ahead.

  “It’s all right.” Sandra’s voice was quiet but firm, without a trace of a waver.

  Emilie searched her eyes and then nodded. “All right. Let’s get started.”

  Five hours later Emilie felt bruised but so proud of her client. The woman had gone round for round with Switzer, her gaze locked on Garth. Opposing counsel had been unable to get anything out of her that would harm her case. Instead, Emilie was confident the deposition recorded everything she needed to get the case fast-tracked to a resolution in Sandra’s favor. It hadn’t taken more than fifteen minutes for Garth’s true colors to show as he interrupted and expounded on each of Sandra’s answers. It would be a beautiful transcript to put in front of the judge.

  Sandra was safely on her own flight, but Emilie’s flight back to Reagan National had been delayed. The deposition had gone well, but she was ready to get to her home, take a relaxing bath, and let the stress of the day evaporate.

  She sat in her tiny seat, fingers curled around the armrests
as turbulence bounced the plane across the sky. She forced her fingers to uncurl. Wesleys didn’t show fear. It was far too pedestrian an emotion. Her father had drilled the message into her with each scraped knee and nerves-inducing speech. She was expected to rise above all challenges.

  But her mind had lost that memo, forgotten the speeches.

  As the plane bounced through another change in air pressure, she twisted her grandmother’s ring and hoped her nervous stomach would calm. When that failed, she reached for the nearest barf bag. It felt like she’d hopped on the wildest roller coaster and the nearest exit was three hundred miles away.

  She held the wax-coated bag in her lap, praying she wouldn’t need it. Was the opening big enough? She didn’t want to find out. She used trembling fingers to pull the opening as wide as it would stretch.

  The plane stabilized, but her fears didn’t. Her mind went back to her car “accident” in April. The police had downplayed her fear. Hayden too. She’d assured Emilie that there was no way a random shot fired by an errant hunter near an expressway could have anything to do with her personally. It was easier to believe that, but while Emilie had pretended to go along, she couldn’t. The police and Hayden didn’t know about everything else that had happened.

  Add in the note she’d found in her purse Friday, and she was ready to second-guess every assurance she’d received. Watching Sandra bravely tip her chin and answer each question as if it didn’t matter that the man who terrified her sat across from her dissecting each word had only reinforced Emilie’s fear.

  Sandra knew who her stalker was. Emilie did not.

  The person lurked in deep shadows, present but hidden.

  Kaylene, the former Miss Iowa, could not have murdered one daughter and tried to kill the other. It didn’t matter that the police believed the facts were clear. It shouldn’t affect her that one grainy video made the public and media accept the evidence as infallible. Emilie knew it was wrong.

  Just as she knew the accident in April hadn’t been an accident.

  As the plane made its way back to Reagan, she felt paralyzed between what she knew and what the rest of the world believed.

  Would anyone believe her this time?

  She didn’t know, but she had to try to reach the police before the investigation into the shooting closed with a summary decision: murdering mom kills one girl and critically injures the other.

  She had watched Kaylene tremble while telling her story of a love gone dreadfully wrong. She had coaxed Kaylene to believe more was possible. She had teased Kaylene into daring to dream. And then Kaylene had taken her girls and returned home. The woman had been absolutely convinced she could salvage her marriage, change her husband, pursue a real relationship. Instead, she’d gone dark.

  She’d stopped returning phone calls.

  Her e-mail account disappeared.

  The photos on Facebook showed a woman crawling back into her shadows rather than striding into freedom.

  And Emilie had sat in her office in Arlington, Virginia, helpless to do anything until Kaylene became firm in her decision.

  Wesleys didn’t feel helpless, so when Kaylene had called begging for help, Emilie had leapt at the chance to get the protective order. She’d reminded Kaylene that they couldn’t get to court until Monday. Kaylene had called again on Sunday, hesitant but still committed. They’d made their appointment to meet at court at noon. If she’d planned to shoot her girls, why would she have gone to that effort? It didn’t make sense.

  The plane reentered placid skies, but Emilie knew there was no calm in store for her. Not until she could get justice for her client. And not while she was convinced that someone was stalking her.

  CHAPTER 11

  The vaulted ceiling of the courtroom caused each sound to echo louder than Reid expected. This was not a setting he’d ever expected to find himself in. The cold, sterile surroundings were weighted with the proceedings that occurred day after day in this hall dedicated to justice. He rubbed a hand over his chin and clutched the papers he’d brought in his hands.

  He might be comfortable in any Wall Street firm, but this setting intimidated him. What did he know about the law? Especially when it involved the fight to wrest custody from a father?

  He couldn’t get Robert’s words and actions Saturday afternoon out of his head all weekend.

  The stakes were so high, he prayed he didn’t blow it. Was this even the right thing to do? He didn’t know how else to find the answer other than to watch Kaylene’s attorney in action and hopefully talk her into helping him. He’d tracked her here since she hadn’t yet returned his text.

  It couldn’t take too long, right? Her assistant had made it sound like a quick hearing, and that’s what he needed so he could get back to the world he knew and understood: finance.

  Then the image of Kaylene’s bright blue eyes pleading with him through the words in her letter to take care of her girls filled his mind. He couldn’t walk away from her request.

  “Sir, you need to take a seat.” The burly deputy gestured to the rows of empty benches. “Otherwise you’ll have to leave. No loitering allowed.”

  “Sure.” Reid scanned the crowd of lawyers in front of the fence. One of them had to be Emilie Wesley, but from the back he couldn’t identify her. So far it looked like a cattle-call of lawyers crammed together.

  The bailiff took a step toward him, and Reid gestured to a vacant bench. “I’ll wait there.”

  The man nodded, but his hand strayed to his gun.

  Reid sat down on the hard wooden bench and shifted to find a comfortable position as he continued to examine the attorneys. All of them were in constant motion other than the two before the bench. A woman leaned closer to the bench, her crimson suit a burst of color against the sea of navy and black. Her blonde hair was pulled back in some kind of fancy twist, and she waved her arms as she talked, each gesture seeming to emphasize a point. She was definitely the woman he’d talked to at the restaurant Saturday.

  The man standing next to her looked at her with thinly veiled disgust, his lips curled as he looked from her to the judge. Then she turned toward the man, and Reid caught the hint of a triumphant smile on her face. She said something to the judge with a little bow of her head and then strode out of the line.

  Seeing her face full on, he was sure. This was Emilie Wesley. When he’d looked her up online he’d learned that she spent her time in the courtroom tilting after windmills of abusive husbands and boyfriends. If Kaylene had hired her, it meant things had been very bad.

  Watching in the courtroom only affirmed his conviction that he needed a skilled litigator to help him in his quest. A bulldog would be ideal. Could this woman who looked like she belonged on the big screen provide the help he needed?

  Emilie resisted the urge to do a fist pump—just barely. The smug look on James Randolph’s face when Judge Hughes took her side on the motion was perfect. The partner at Elliott & Johnson, Hayden’s former place of employment, was out of his league in family law, a fact he now surely appreciated. After all the grief he’d caused her roommate, it felt great to beat him, even if the motion only meant his client had to comply with the subpoena.

  Emilie scanned the room and saw that Taylor had already left. No need to waste her time in the logjam of motion hour. However, the time they’d prepped quietly while the line wound its way forward had been valuable. She’d nailed Randolph to the wall when he’d gotten cocky and proven he hadn’t spent time with the subpoena or the law.

  A man sitting on the aisle several rows back caught her attention. Reid Billings? Why was he in family court? He looked about as uncomfortable as her dad at a debutante ball. Well, it was none of her business.

  As her phone buzzed in her pocket, she picked up her pace. Her victory would be exceptionally fleeting if Judge Hughes caught her pulling out her phone while in the courtroom.

  As she hurried toward the exit, Reid got to his feet. “Emilie, could I have a moment of your time?”

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nbsp; The bailiff stepped forward, his hand on his gun, and she raised her hand to stop his forward progress. “It’s okay, Joe.” She turned to the man. “Reid? I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “Yes. When you didn’t return my text, I thought this would be a good place to find you.” She arched an eyebrow at him, and he sighed, his glance bouncing from the bailiff to her. “Actually, your assistant told me you were here. Do you have a minute to look at these?” He handed her a sheaf of papers.

  “You’ll have to take this outside.” Joe’s voice was urgent as his gaze flicked toward the front of the courtroom and back. “Judge is starting to focus on you.”

  “Thanks.” Emilie brushed past Reid. “You can join me in the hall.” She pushed through the heavy wooden doors, pausing to note whether he’d followed. She needed to get back to the office, but if he was here, she’d see what he needed. After a quick glance at her phone, she kept moving.

  The man hurried after her as if he were Peter Pan’s shadow trying to reattach. Once she’d found a quiet place in the hall, she stopped and turned, her nose almost hitting his chest. She took a half step back, but he stood immovable, looking lost yet determined.

  “I was out of town for a deposition yesterday. What is it you think I should address today?”

  “Kaylene told me to come to you.”

  “She did? When? How?” She wouldn’t cry. Not here.

  Reid fumbled through the stack of papers and pulled out a folded page. “She left me a note, but I didn’t find it until Saturday.”

  At a glimpse of the handwriting, Emilie’s heart sank. “Oh, Kaylene. Okay.” She looked around the bustling hallway, noting the attorneys meeting with clients or opposing counsel. “Let’s take this outside.” She nodded at the people she recognized as she made her way down the marble stairs and toward the exit. Instead of taking the attorney exit, she led Reid past security, waiting long enough for him to reclaim his phone, and then led the way into the oppressive heat.

  The wind felt like a sauna, and he scanned the area. “Let’s go to the coffee shop.”