Smith - Dark Justice

Dark

Justice

by

Angela Smith

Dark Justice

Copyright 2019 by Angela Smith

Author Name: Angela Smith

Title: Dark Justice

Cover Artist: Steven Novak

Formatter: Katie McGinley

Editor: Tamara Eaton

ISBN-13: 978-1-7323859-4-8 (EBook)

ISBN-13: 978-1-7323859-5-5 (Print)

Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of this book in any form without express permission. You are supporting writers and allowing creativity to continue. Scanning, uploading, or distribution of this book without permission is theft of the authors intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book other than for review purposes, please contact . Thank you for your support of the authors rights.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Author Angela Smith

www.loveisamystery.com

www.twitter.com/angelaswriter

www.facebook.com/authorangelasmith

Acknowledgement Page

An author can never complete a book without a lot of help, and I have so many people to thank. To the writing community all across the world, many of whom I have never met. They continue to help me grow as an author.

Thanks to Gary Bunyard, a former coworker, retired prosecutor, and current friend, for helping me with all the legal questions I had while writing this novel.

Thanks to Marc and Melissa Nobles. Marc, for letting me use your music for inspiration and for my book trailers. And Melissa, for putting up with me since second grade and loaning me books when I had none to read.

Thanks to Tabitha and Shelley for helping me with my plot and keeping me sane.

To my sister and best friend, KaSandra. I love you.

And to my niece, Kaley Wingett. Never be afraid to go after your dreams.

Chapter One

L ukeTwelve Years Ago

All rise for the jury.

I stand, my legs unsteady. The jurors filter in, one by one, their eyes downcast. Those who look, only glance at the prosecutor. Not me or my defense attorney.

Waynes breath hitches. Its a whispery whoosh, a sound he likely doesnt realize hes made, but it tells me everything I need to know. I almost collapse in defeat.

He thinks they found me guilty. And by their expressions, I agree.

I size up the crowd gathering in the courtroom. Most of them sit on the prosecutors side. Clint is there. Once my best friend, but now Im convinced hes a killer. Hes next to Lauren. The love of my life and the one I presumed would stand by my side forever. But since she believes I killed her sister, I guess I cant blame her for turning her back on me.

But Clint? Fear curls my spine. Hes charming, Ill give him that, but hes an absolute psycho. Nobody in Laurens family will listen, especially Lauren. And before all this, I wouldnt have believed Clint is the killer. He killed her sister. How do I know she wont be next? How can I protect her if Im locked in prison for the rest of my life?

The judge drones on about the charge, then asks the jury if theyve reached a decision. Wayne shifts and gives me a blink that tells me he wants to make sure Im aware of whats going on. Im eighteen, for Gods sake. How could anyone my age understand criminal justice?

Hes warned me of how you can never predict a jury, but this group of fourteen holds their heads high as if theyve never been surer in their lives. Two of them are alternate jurors, so its up to five men and seven women to decide my fate.

An older gentleman hands the bailiff the verdict. I hold my breath, and the judge reads. We the jury find the defendant, Lucas Donovan Fuller, guilty of murder.

Gasps fill the room. Chaos erupts, at least in my bones. More like a commotion, nothing too disastrous to alert the judge, and something hes probably accustomed to. He only regards the crowd. A lot of loud talking, crying, and my mothers wails. Hes way more patient than me and waits for everyones reaction to subside.

My muscles grow weak. I badly want to sit and wonder when Im allowed. I want to reach out to Lauren. Tell her Im sorry this happened, I didnt do it, she has to trust me, and please, please dont trust Clint. I open my mouth to say these things, but my attorney stations his hand on my shoulder, as if his one palm is going to keep me silent.

He warned me over and over not to react. Im not allowed to speak. I am barely allowed to move, and I cant look her way, although I shift to do so. The bailiff puffs out his chest and walks closer, as if Im going to bolt.

Calm down, Wayne says. We still have punishment. Dont make a scene.

Why shouldnt I react? This is life changing. My life is over. Im going to prison. The judge hasnt declared a final sentence but after everyones testimony, Ive started to believe my own guilt. Im likely going to prison for the rest of my life.

****

L UKEPRESENT DAY

Luke Fullers pen scribbled across the page. His heart hammered while he wrote the words, ears filling with the deep drum of his heartbeat as if he was re-experiencing the event. Tired of writing, he shut the notebook and tossed it on the wrought-iron table beside him, along with his cap and shades. He stood and opened the grill to check the ribeye.

Food would be ready in a few minutes, and all he needed was right here. A little salt and pepper, paper plates and plastic forks to eat with, and a cooler full of drinks. Even a hundred feet from the river, the bullfrogs croaking put him at ease.

A sound he never expected to hear again.

He closed the grill, grabbed a beer from the ice chest, and lounged on the patio chair. It took a while for his heartbeat to settle. Writing these memories was difficult, harder than he expected, and his body ached from the flashbacks.

The sun descended, a showcase of gold fueled by rain clouds and humidity. He loved the open porch and didnt want a screen to filter him and the outdoors. With bug spray, sleeping out here at night was a dream come true, despite the oppressive mugginess. Lightning flashed in the south, implying the much-needed shower was near. Nothing better than the clatter of rain on the roof.

Even the mosquitoes avoided the Texas July heat, but hed take heat over the prison cell where hed spent the past twelve years of his life. Hed take it over that any damn day.

LED lights strung across the porch offered a soft glow to ease him come sundown. He hated the darkness. Too many reminders of prison and the things he wanted to forget. But this darkness out in the country was peaceful, welcoming, different. Almost bearable.

A car drove up, the headlights zipping through the trees. His muscles tensed. He studied the nearby monitor attached to the front security camera. The car parked, the lights shut off. His lungs tightened, burned, then disintegrated when the woman stepped out and sauntered to the back.