Injustice For All
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Praise for Injustice for All
A journey into the heart of suspense and the heart of faith. Robin Caroll scores again with Injustice for All.
—James Scott Bell, award-winning, best-selling author
The undeniable bonds of love carries through generations in this timeless Southern story. As thick as the bayou, corruption and injustice smother the lives of the innocent in this compelling first installment of the Justice Seekers! Robin Caroll once again pens a masterpiece of Southern charm, mystery, and suspense. This is by far one of my favorite books from Caroll! I anxiously await the next Justice Seeker book!
—Ronie Kendig, author of Nightshade, Digitalis, and Wolfsbane
Incredible stakes, unbalanced odds, fearless storytelling, and unforgettable characters . . . Robin Caroll knows how to deliver and she does it again with Injustice for All. Don’t even try to put this book down.”
—Tosca Lee, author of Demon: A Memoir and coauthor of The Books of Mortals series (with Ted Dekker)
If you’re a fan of convoluted plotlines and complex characters, you want to read Injustice for All. Just sit back and enjoy as Robin Caroll takes you on all the twists and turns of this fun roller coaster.
—Gayle Roper, author of Shadows on the Sand
In Injustice for All, Robin Caroll crafts a riveting romantic suspense with a hint of political intrigue. Filled with heroes, questions, and the search for truth, I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough as the plot tightened into a spiraling noose. I loved these characters and hated to reach the end. Robin Caroll has joined the list of my must-read authors.
—Cara C. Putman, author of Stars in the Night
The tension begins on page one and builds from there as Caroll leads us through a labyrinth of suspense to a satisfying and unexpected conclusion. A great start for the Justice Seekers series.
—Richard L. Mabry, MD, author of the Prescription for Trouble series
Gripping and heart-stopping, Injustice for All may well be my favorite Robin Caroll book yet. Even after the last page, the characters are still lingering in my mind. My only regret . . . to reach the end. Can’t wait for the next book!
—Dineen Miller, author of Winning Him Without Words and The Soul Saver
Once again Robin Caroll grabbed me from page one and didn’t let up till I read the final word. Vivid characters, a compelling story and twists that made me stay up late makes Injustice for All Caroll’s strongest work yet.
—Jim Rubart, award-winning and best-selling author of Rooms, Book of Days, and The Chair
Injustice for All starts off with a pulse-pounding scene and the suspense doesn’t let up. Caroll is a top-notch storyteller with a knack for drawing the reader into the story. Highly recommended!
—Colleen Coble, author of Lonestar Angel and other Lonestar novels
Oh-my-stars! Robin Caroll just keeps getting better. I couldn’t put the book down. Injustice for All is fast paced, with characters to fall in love with. Pick this book up at the first opportunity. It will make a great addition to your keeper shelf.
—Lynette Eason, author of A Killer Among Us and Threat of Exposure
Absolutely riveting! Meticulously plotted with characters I rooted for, this book was impossible to put down. Robin Caroll is lethal to my to-do list!
—Susan May Warren, award-winning, best-selling author of My Foolish Heart
Clear your calendar before starting Injustice for All. Once you begin this gripping tale of murder and redemption, you won’t be able to put it down.
—Rick Acker, author of When the Devil Whistles and Dead Man’s Rule
Injustice for All is a great read full of suspense, twists, and turns, as it races back and forth toward it’s unexpected but satisfying ending. Very enjoyable!
—Linda Hall, author of Dark Water and Black Ice
Other Novels by Robin Caroll
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
Copyright © 2012 by Robin Miller
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America
978-1-4336-7212-5
Published by B&H Publishing Group,
Nashville, Tennessee
Dewey Decimal Classification: F
Subject Heading: MYSTERY FICTION JUSTICE—FICTION TRUST—FICTION
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.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 • 16 15 14 13 12
To MY Remington and Isabella . . .
You girls light up my life in more ways than I ever thought humanly possible. What an honor it is to be your mom.
I love 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
Chapter Thirty-Three
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgments
As always, I’m amazed by so many talented people at B&H who work extremely hard behind the scenes to bring my books to print. I offer my deepest thanks to the whole Pure Enjoyment team, but especially those I’m honored to work with closely: Julie Gwinn, Robin Patterson, Kim Stanford, Greg Pope, Haverly Pennington, and Diana Lawrence. For everyone at B&H, thank you for being part of my publishing “family.” I truly appreciate each and every one of you extending your talent and skill on my behalf.
No amount of thanks is enough to my editor, Julee Schwarzburg, who continues to teach me and makes me smile while I learn. You are so amazing, Julee, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for not only being an awesome editor, but a true friend.
This book dealt with minute details of our legal system. Huge thanks to Rick Acker and Cara Putman for sharing their knowledge with me. Any mistakes in the representation of legal issues is mine, where I twisted in the best interest of my story.
Tha
nks to Brandt Dodson, who answered my tedious questions regarding the “hierarchy” of the FBI with an enormous amount of patience and kindness. The “adjustments” I made were deliberate for fictional purposes.
A LOT of the research for this novel was garnered by sitting in a federal court, observing in three different trials. I’ve logged more hours on the hard, wooden bench in the Arkansas Federal Courthouse than I care to remember. Special thanks to the fine men serving as courthouse marshals who went out of their way to be extremely nice and courteous.
Special thanks to the GREAT ONES, for their help in plotting on a scary road trip with someone (ahem) frightening behind the wheel, and for such wonderful memories.
As always, there are many in the writing community who help me in so many ways I can’t even begin to list. My heartfelt thanks to: Karen Ball, Colleen Coble, Pam Hillman, Ronie Kendig, Tosca Lee, Dineen Miller, Cara Putman, Jim Rubart, Heather Diane Tipton, Cheryl Wyatt, and my wonderful agent Steve Laube.
My extended family members are my biggest fans and greatest cheerleaders. Thank you for being in my corner: Mom and Papa, BB and Robert, Bek and Krys, Bubba and Lisa, Brandon, Rachel, and Aunt Millicent. Special thanks for all the support to Stephanie Mallett and Scott and Ashley Vailes.
My deep gratitude for the feedback of first readers Lisa Burroughs and Tracey Justice. 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! And my precious grandsons, Benton Alexander Miller Forgy and Zayden Brody Forgy—you are joys in my life.
My most heartfelt thanks to my best friend, brainstorming partner, idea-maker, love of my life, husband . . . Case. You make my days brighter and fill my heart with love every day. Thank you for loving me as I am. I adore you.
Finally, all glory to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.
“I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.”
ROMANS 7:15
Prologue
“The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways. I go to die, and you to live. Which is the better, God only knows.”
—SOCRATES
Cha-chk.
Every muscle in my body stiffened, and my mouth went spitless. Chambering a round was a distinct sound, unmistakable.
My hand gripped the railing as questions swarmed my mind. A gun? In Daniel’s house? He’d been opposed to firearms ever since my father was murdered.
I took a step off the second-story landing. My palm itched to grip my own handgun at the moment, but knowing how Daniel felt, I’d never bring it over. Even when I spent the night.
“Put that gun away.” My godfather’s voice held a tremble as it drifted up to me. Never, ever, had I heard Daniel’s voice be anything but commanding.
My heart pounded harder than before—my ribs felt the punishment. My knees weakened.
“Not hardly. You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you, Daniel?”
I broke out into a cold sweat, recognizing that voice. And the angry tone. I should have—sure had heard it enough times. Was this real? Not him. I had to be mistaken. Because if he’s the one with the gun . . .
I descended, my feet making no sound on the plush stair runner. Reaching the first floor, I glanced at the alarm system control panel by the front door. No indicator lights ablaze. My throat and gut flipped places. Why have the security feature if Daniel wouldn’t use it? I padded across the cold marble floor of the darkened foyer and activated the silent alarm. The gated community security would arrive.
Would it be soon enough?
“When government witnesses come to me after a trial and confess your team pressured and bullied them to fabricate their testimony, what am I supposed to do? Look the other way?” Indignation rose above the wobbling of Daniel’s voice. “That’s not who I am.”
A boulder slammed sideways in my throat. I froze. This couldn’t be happening.
A lone siren howled in the night. Shivers took over my self-control. I peeked down the hall. Light spilled from Daniel’s office.
I quickened my pace down the hallway, careful not to bump into the entry table with the lamp that had crystals hanging from it.
“Too bad. It could have saved your life.”
“Get out of my house or I’ll call the authorities.” Daniel’s voice, once again strong . . . authoritative.
Hope warmed my chest.
“As if that would do any good? We’re acting on orders here. Orders from higher than our pay grade. We’ve always been acting on orders. You’re the one who is dispensable, Daniel.”
Daniel’s gasp was barely audible. Unlike my pulse pounding in my head.
Thwap. Thwap.
No mistaking that sound either—shots fired with a silencer.
Daniel!
Bile burned the back of my throat as my feet took root in the hardwoods. Instinct pushed me forward, but experience—and knowing the owner of the voice—held me in place. I had to help Daniel, but my muscles wouldn’t budge. If I was seen . . .
The siren filtered up the long driveway. Flashing blue lights spun against the stained-glass window in the front door.
“Let’s get out of here. He must’ve hit a silent alarm.”
I had to move. If I didn’t, I’d be as good as dead. Where? I glanced to the hall . . . the foyer . . . the closet. I had to hide—now! If they killed me, how could I help Daniel?
My body trembled.
“Let me make sure the good judge doesn’t have a pulse. I’ve had someone return from the dead before.”
Bam! Bam! Bam! The front door was about to explode.
“Mr. Tate? Security. Is everything okay?”
I held my breath.
“Leave him. The rent-a-cop will ask questions we don’t want to explain.” Footsteps thumped against the wood floor.
No time to debate. Moving into action, my socked feet slipped on the waxed floor as I slid to the dining room. I ducked next to the antique hutch and flattened myself in the dark shadows.
Thump-thump-thump.
A metallic taste was sharp against my tongue.
More banging on the door. “Mr. Tate? I’ve called the police.”
“Quick, out the back door.”
I recognized both men’s voices. Knew them well. Too well. My stomach churned. How could they . . . ? I felt sick.
The two men rushed past the dining room, neither looking inside. Just enough light lingered in the hallway to illuminate them. Even if I didn’t recognize their voices, there was no disputing who shot Daniel now.
Everything I believed in, fought for . . . fled at the positive identification.
The echo of the back door clicking shut sounded above the pounding of my heart.
The cement block anchoring my feet in place broke free. I scrambled toward the foyer, slipping against the smooth floor. I reached for the knob, couldn’t turn the dead bolt fast enough, and swung open the front door. “My godfather has been shot. Call an ambulance.” I didn’t wait for a response from the security guard, just turned and raced into Daniel’s study.
He lay facedown across his massive mahogany desk.
Oh-my-stars-oh-my-stars-oh-my-stars. No!
I rolled him over and pulled him to me. He was heavy, like dead weight. I held him tight as I sank to the floor. Two bright circles of red stained the crisp white cotton of his shirt, spreading in diameter. “Oh, Daniel.” I could but breathe the words. Not Daniel. Not him too.
“S-Safe. In. My. Safe.”
“Shh. It’s okay. Help is on the way.” I snatched a jacket from the back of Daniel’s chair and pressed it against the growing red stains.
> “Get. O-out. Of. M-my. S-safe.” Daniel’s face paled whiter than his shirt.
I cradled him in my arms, my pulse threatening to explode. Not like this. He was all I had left.
Oh-my-stars-oh-my-stars-oh-my-stars. I couldn’t lose Daniel.
“P-prom-ise. Me. Get. Out. O-of. S-safe.” Daniel’s eyes dimmed. “I-important.”
Tears streaked my cheeks as I rocked him, keeping pressure on the jacket. “Okay, I will. You be still and quiet now. Help will be here soon.” Don’t die. Please, don’t die.
The security guard hovered in the doorway of the office. “Ms. Wyatt, the ambulance is on its way. Do you need help?”
“No. Wait for them outside and direct them in here.” And he’d better make it quick—Daniel was fading fast. Too fast.
He spun and sped out. Sirens wailed in the distance.
I couldn’t handle this. I planted a kiss on my godfather’s forehead. He’d been my rock, my foundation. “It’ll be all right.”
But Daniel’s eyes fluttered. A gurgling stuttered through his lips. He went limp, his head rolling against my chest.
My breathing hiccupped and the tears soaked my face.
Daniel Tate had just died in my arms.
The truth hit me with the full force of a 9mm slug. I had no choice—I had to run.
Or be killed.
The security guard saw me, knew me. If I stayed, it’d only be a matter of time before the men who murdered Daniel would come after me. I couldn’t chance that.