BEYOND JUSTICE

  DAWN TREADER PRESS

  Copyright © 2010 Joshua Graham

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblance to actual locales, events or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Praise for

  BEYOND JUSTICE

  “…A riveting legal thriller…. breaking new ground with a vengeance… demonically entertaining and surprisingly inspiring.”

  ~PUBLISHERS WEEKLY

  “…hits the ground running…handled by a deft hand.”

  ~Adrian Phoenix, IN THE BLOOD (Pocket Books)

  “This tense, fast-paced story of outrageous injustice, insidious evil, and looming disaster has everything the savvy reader should expect, and more. [Graham] belongs to a new, emerging wave of writers who dare to color outside conventional lines. And he does so with style!”

  ~Glen Scorgie, THE JOURNEY BACK TO EDEN (Zondervan)

  “…a genuine page-turner with a twist that makes it stand out from most thrillers and legal dramas.”

  “…What sets this thriller apart is the deft handling of religion.”

  “…When Graham turns to courtroom drama, the writing is tense; when he’s inside Sam’s mind, the emotions are wringing.”

  ~Author Magazine

  “This book was so much more than a mystery novel; it was an exercise in faith, understanding, joy and mercy in their purest forms.”

  “…twists, turns and surprises to be found here.”

  “…filled with so much in the way of emotion.”

  “…Take the time to read this book. You will not be disappointed.”

  ~Suspense Magazine

  …A MASTERFUL LEGAL THRILLER

  …A book worthy of a feature length Hollywood movie…

  …Graham has intricately woven together these elements of cyberspace and our criminal justice system in a way that keeps avid mystery readers spellbound.

  …Graham’s BEYOND JUSTICE is the best mystery novel that I have ever read.

  …a plot worthy of Hollywood, told by a fantastic author with a deft touch and feel for intrigue!

  …a fitting climax in true John Grisham form.

  …a powerful testament to faith and religion, woven into a masterful murder mystery.

  ~East County Magazine

  “This is not a tame Christian book, it’s full of heart wrenching scenes that will make you shudder.

  There’s one surprise after another and it’s a “can’t put down” thriller…the ending was brilliant!

  “This is Joshua Graham’s first book and it is a doozy!!

  I can’t wait to read more from this very talented author.”

  ~ReadingAtTheBeach.com

  “…a riveting legal thriller that has heart and a fabulous message.”

  “…really intense suspense!”

  “ I was…balled up with emotions and intense suspense from start to finish.”

  “…a great legal thriller…”

  “… great drama and romance as well.

  “…tied together with a fabulous message of love and redemption.“

  ~A Life in Review

  “…Superbly done!”

  “…a legal suspense thriller beyond any other.”

  “…Filled with page turning, edge of your seat twists.”

  “…most definitely a 5 star novel by an incredible author”

  “… this suspense novel will pick you up in one place, carry you through thrilling turns and emotional rides, and will set you down at an unexpected place, all the while leaving you with a powerful message that will set your mind to thinking. About life. About loss. About justice. About everything.”

  …Joshua Graham has become an author who I will be collecting books by for a long time to come and has made me anxious for his next book!

  ~Reviews by Molly D. Edwards

  “…an edge of your seat thrill ride from beginning to end.”

  “…a brilliant thriller filled with unforeseen plot twists and character behaviour changes unlike any other.”

  “…I quite literally was unable to set this book down…”

  “…Joshua Graham is definitely a name to keep an eye on, for he is one talented writer…”

  ~ Rundpinne

  “…the Best book I have read and reviewed this year.”

  “…this book isn’t just about law and criminal justice, it is about faith and realizing that everything happens for a reason.”

  “…I HIGHLY recommend Beyond Justice as a must read!”

  ~The Winfields-7 Book Reviews

  “…right up there with the best.”

  “…will tug your heart. Don’t be surprised if a tear finds its way down your cheek.”

  “…more than just a mystery, more than just thriller, it’s in a word terrific!”

  “If you love a good thriller then pick up this book, you will not be disappointed.”

  ~Reading, Reading & Life

  "…fair warning before you pick up Beyond Justice by Joshua Graham–the next 24 to 48 hours of your life will be utterly consumed by this book."

  "…[had] my unconditional and unwavering attention from page one to the conclusion."

  "…draws you in from the first page and literally does not let go of you or your emotions until the rollercoaster conclusion."

  "…a powerfully gripping legal thriller"

  "…I was absolutely captivated"

  "…mesmerizing would be a gross understatement."

  "…absolutely nothing short of an act of God or nature would have stopped me from finishing this book."

  "…unbelievably powerful and spellbinding."

  "…the story will stay with you long after you finish it."

  "…Do not hesitate. Rush to get your own copy of Beyond Justice."

  ~PsychoticState.net

  Connect with Joshua Graham at:

  http://www.joshua-graham.com

  http://www.facebook/J0shuaGraham

  http://www.twitter/J0shuaGraham

  BEYOND JUSTICE

  Joshua Graham

  PART I

  The descent into Hell is not always vertical.

  — Bishop Frank Morgan

  Chapter One

  THE QUESTION MOST PEOPLE ASK when they first meet me is: How does an attorney from a reputable law firm in La Jolla end up on death row? When they hear my story, it becomes clear that the greater question is not how, but why.

  I have found it difficult at times to forgive myself for what happened. But a significant part of the answer involves forgiveness, something I never truly understood until I could see in hindsight.

  Orpheus went through hell and back to rescue his wife Euridice from death in the underworld. Through his music, he moved the hearts of Hades and Persephone and they agreed to allow Euridice to return with him to Earth on one condition: He must walk before her and not look back until they reached the upper world. On seeing the Sun, Orpheus turned to share his delight with Euridice, and she disappeared. He had broken his promise and she was gone forever. This failure and guilt was a hell far worse than the original.

  My own personal hell began one night almost four years ago. Like images carved into flesh, the memories of that night would forever be etched into my mind. The work day had been tense enough—my position at the firm was in jeopardy because of the inexplicable appearance of lewd internet images in my folder on the main file server.

/>   Later that night, as I scrambled to get out the door on time for a critical meeting with a high profile client, my son Aaron began throwing a screaming fit. Hell hath no fury like a boy who has lost his Thomas Train toy. In my own frenzied state, I lost my temper with him. Amazing how much guilt a four-year-old can pile on you with puppy-dog eyes while clinging to his mother's legs. His sister Bethie, in all her seventh grade sagacity, proclaimed that I had issues, then marched up to her room, slammed the door and took out her frustration with me by tearing though a Paganini Caprice on her violin. All this apocalypse just minutes before leaving for my meeting, which was to be held over a posh dinner at George's At The Cove, which I would consequently have no stomach for.

  I couldn't wait to get home. The clock's amber LED read 11:28 when I pulled my Lexus into the cul-de-sac. Pale beams from a pregnant moon cut through the palm trees that lined our street. The October breeze rushed into the open window and through my hair, a cool comfort after a miserable evening.

  If I was lucky, Jenn would be up and at the computer, working on her latest novel. She'd shooed me out the door lest I ran late for the meeting, before I could make any more of a domestic mess for her to clean up.

  The garage door came down. I walked over to the security system control box and found it unarmed. On more than one occasion, I had asked Jenn to arm it whenever I was out. She agreed, but complained that the instructions were too complicated. It came with a pretty lame manual, I had to admit.

  The system beeped as I entered the house, greeted by the sweet scent of Lilac—her favorite candles for those special occasions. So much more than I deserved, but that was my Jenn. Never judging, never condemning, she understood how much stress I'd been under and always prescribed the best remedy for such situations.

  From the foot of the stairs I saw dimmed light leaking out of the bedroom. It wasn't even date night, but I had a pretty good idea what she was thinking. So before going up, I stopped by the kitchen, filled a pair of glasses with Merlot and set out a little box of chocolates on a breakfast tray—my secret weapon.

  As I climbed the stairs I smiled. The closer I got, the more I could smell the fragrant candles. From the crack in the door classical music flowed out: Pie Jesu from Faure's Requiem. Must've been writing a love scene. She always used my classical CDs to set her in the right mood.

  A beam of amber light reached through the crack in the doorway into the hallway. The alarm system beeped. She must have shut a window. It had just started to rain and Jenn hated when the curtains got wet.

  Kathleen Battle's angelic voice soared.

  Pie Jesu Domine,

  Dona eis requiem,

  Requiem sempiternam.

  Jenn didn't know a word of Latin. She just liked the pretty tunes.

  I nudged the door open with my foot.

  "Honey?" Caught a glimpse of a silky leg on the bed. Oh, yes. I pushed the door open.

  Shock ignited every nerve ending in my body like napalm. The tray fell from my hands. Crashed to the ground. Glasses shattered and the red wine bled darkly onto the carpet.

  Jenn lay partially naked, face-down, the sheets around her soaked crimson. Stab wounds scored her entire body. Blood. Blood everywhere!

  "Jenn!"

  I ran to her, turned her over.

  She gasped, trying to speak. Coughed. Red spittle dripped from the corner of her mouth. "The kids..."

  I took her into my arms. But her eyes begged me to go check on them.

  "You hang on, honey. With all you've got, hang on!" I reached for my cell phone but it fell out of my belt clip and bounced under the bed.

  On my knees now, I groped wildly until I found the cell phone. Dialed 9-1-1. Barely remembered what I said, but they were sending someone right away.

  Jenn groaned. Her breaths grew shorter and shorter.

  "Bethie... Aaron."

  Her eyes rolled back.

  "I'm going. Hang on, baby. Please! You gotta hang on!" I started for the door. Felt her hand squeeze mine twice: Love-you.

  No.

  Tears streamed down my face. As I began to pull away, she gripped my hand urgently. For that split second, I knew. This was the end. I stumbled back to her. Gathered her ragdoll body in to my arms.

  "Jenn, oh God, Jenn. Please don't!"

  "Whatever it takes," she said. Again, she squeezed my hand twice. "Mercy, not...sacrifice.” One last gasp. She sighed and then fell limp in my arms, her eyes still open.

  Holding her tight to my chest, I let out an anguished cry.

  All time stopped. Who would do this? Why? Her blood stained my shirt. Her dying words resonated in my mind. Then I remembered. The kids. I bolted up and ran straight to Bethie's room.

  Bethie's door was ajar. If my horror hadn't been complete, it was now. I found her exactly like Jenn—face down, blood and gashes covering her body.

  Though I tried to cry out, nothing escaped the vice-grip on my throat. When I turned her over, I felt her arm. Still warm, but only slightly. Her eyes were shut, her face wet with blood.

  "Bethie! Oh, sweetie, no!" I whispered, as I wrapped the blanket around her.

  I kissed her head. Held her hand. Rocked her back and forth. "Come on, baby girl. Help's on its way, you hold on," I said, voice and hands trembling. She lay there unconscious but breathing.

  Aaron.

  Gently, I lay Bethie back down then got up and flew across the hall. To Aaron's door. His night light was still on and I saw his outline in the bed.

  Oh God, please.

  I flipped the switch.

  Nothing.

  I dashed over to the lamp on his nightstand, nearly slipping on one of his Thomas Train toys on the carpet. Broken glass crackled under my shoes.

  I switched on the lamp on his nightstand. When I looked down to his bed, my legs nearly gave out. Aaron was still under his covers, but blood drenched his pillow. His aluminum baseball bat lay on the floor, dented and bloodied.

  Dropping to my knees, I called his name. Over and over, I called, but he didn't stir. This can't be happening. It's got to be a nightmare. I put my face down into Aaron's blue Thomas Train blanket and gently rested my ear on his chest.

  I felt movement under the blanket. Breathing. But slowly—irregular and shallow.

  Don't move his body. Dammit, where are the paramedics?

  I heard something from Bethie's room and dashed out the door. Stopping in the middle of the hallway, I clutched the handrail over the stairs. Thought I heard Aaron crying now. Or maybe it was the wind.

  My eyes darted from one side of the hallway to the other. Which room?

  Faure's Requiem continued to play, now the In Paradisum movement.

  Aeternam habeas requiem.

  Something out in front of the house caught my attention. The police, the paramedics! Propelled by adrenaline, I crashed through the front door and ran out into the middle my lawn which was slick with rain. I slipped and fell on my side.

  Nobody. Where were they!

  Like a madman, I began screaming at the top of my lungs. My words echoed emptily into the night.

  "Help! Somebody, please!"

  A dog started barking.

  "Please, ANYBODY! HELP!"

  Lights flickered on in the surrounding houses.

  Eyes peeked through miniblinds.

  No one came out.

  I don't know if I was intelligible at this point. I was just screaming, collapsed onto the ground, on my hands and knees getting drenched in the oily rain.

  Just as the crimson beacons of an ambulance flashed around the corner, I buried my face into the grass. All sound, light, and consciousness imploded into my mind as if it were a black hole.

  Chapter Two

  It's never been clear to me when my neighbor, Pastor Dave Pendelton scraped me off the lawn and brought me back into my house. Outside, neighbors all gawking through the blinds in their windows, not one of them had come out.

  Except Dave, of all people. Pastor Dave of City on a Hill, Jenn's churc
h. He seemed nice enough, but I never completely trusted him. This was due in no small part to my absolute distaste for organized religion. Ironically, Jenn had become born again soon after we got married and began attending not only Sunday services at Dave's church, but their weekly small group Bible study as well.

  I sat on my sofa in a chilled stupor, a blanket draped over my shoulders while paramedics worked feverishly around both of my children upstairs. According to Dave, they had arrived just as he came out to get me. I was so shell-shocked that I didn't recall their arrival.

  Another team had gone to the master bedroom.

  "Jenn?" I bolted up. "Jenn!" They carried her down in a gurney, a white sheet over her face. The anguish within couldn't crack through the frozen wall of shock around my mind.

  Next came my kids, but they were not covered. The paramedics worked on them as they brought them down and wheeled them to the ambulance. "Bethie! Aaron!" I shouted and tried to run over. Dave held me back.

  "Let them, Sam."

  I was trembling, shaking my head, as they raced off. Jenn couldn't be gone. It couldn't be my kids in that ambulance. It was like watching a movie. Flashing lights, sirens.

  "Let's go." Dave grabbed my arm and rushed me into his car. We chased the ambulances, leaving behind a pair of squad cars, their red and blues groping out into the rain like a lighthouse in a hurricane.

  My home had become a crime scene.

  ___________________

  As soon as we arrived at Children's Hospital's Trauma Care Center, a medical team rushed Bethie into one room and Aaron into another. Frozen, I stood, chest rising and falling, eyes darting between the two rooms.