Justice Delivered Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Half Title Page

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Contents

  Prologue

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  Acknowledgments

  Note from the Author

  About the Author

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  List of Pages

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  © 2019 by Patricia Bradley

  Published by Revell

  a division of Baker Publishing Group

  PO Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

  www.revellbooks.com

  Ebook edition created 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  ISBN 978-1-4934-1646-2

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

  To the volunteers who give a voice to the many victims of human trafficking. And to my family who encourages me. But most of all, to my Lord Jesus Christ, who gives me the words.

  Contents

  Cover

  Half Title Page

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  52

  53

  54

  55

  56

  57

  58

  59

  60

  61

  62

  63

  64

  65

  66

  67

  Acknowledgments

  Note from the Author

  About the Author

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  Prologue

  JANUARY 2010

  JASMINE EASED OUT of her cell-like room and down the dimly lit hallway. Two light raps on another bedroom door brought no response, and she turned the knob and slipped inside.

  Moonlight filtered into the darkened room through narrow slats on the window. Labored breathing coming from the bed sent her heart spiraling to the floor. It was almost time to go, and Lily was still in bed. She eased closer, noticing that the thin blanket shook.

  “It’s me, Jasmine,” she whispered. “You have to get dressed.”

  Lily didn’t respond. If she wasn’t ready when Blade came to get them, there would be consequences. Jasmine touched her shoulder, feeling the tremor in the girl’s body. And the heat. Her hot skin made Jasmine wince.

  “C-can’t . . .”

  She knelt beside the bed and smoothed the girl’s hot brow. She was pretty sure from the way her friend had been coughing that she had pneumonia.

  Lily’s eyes fluttered open, and she turned toward the only window in the small room. “It’s dark already?”

  “Yeah, but don’t worry—maybe they won’t make you go tonight.” Even as she said the words, Jasmine knew they would. And if Lily didn’t bring in her thousand dollars, Blade would beat her or worse.

  “I-I have t-to. C-can’t go in the H-hole again.”

  The Hole was why Lily was sick. A week ago she’d had a toothache and begged off hitting the streets. And for two days he’d shut her up in a tiny room in the basement of the house where they lived. With no lights and only the bare floor to sleep on, she’d come out of it disoriented and feverish.

  “You’re too sick to get out of bed.” Jasmine swallowed and lifted her chin. “I’ll tell Blade I’ll see your clients tonight too.”

  “They won’t let you,” Lily said. She tried to sit up and fell back on the bed. Tears dropped from the corners of her eyes. She tried to take a deep breath and fell into a fit of coughing. When she got her breath, she slipped a bracelet from her arm and pressed it into Jasmine’s hand. “I’m not going to make it, Jaz.”

  Jasmine clenched the thin chain in her hands as if holding on tightly would make Lily well. She didn’t know what she’d do if Lily died. “You have to make it.”

  “I’m so c-cold.” She squeezed Jasmine’s hand. “Jaz, you . . . have to . . . forgive . . .”

  “Lily, don’t ask me to do that. These men don’t deserve forgiveness!” she whispered fiercely. Someone had given Lily a Bible, and after she started reading it, she’d changed.

  “None of us deserve forgiveness . . . and it’s for . . . you. If you don’t forgive . . . it will eat you alive.”

  She didn’t have to ask if Lily had forgiven Blade or the one responsible for her being sold into prostitution. Peace showed on her face. Jasmine gripped the bracelet tighter. Her anger at Austin King and Blade was all she had to hold on to, and she wasn’t letting it go.

  Lily closed her eyes briefly. She tried to breathe deeper and triggered a spasm of coughing. When she got her breath, she turned, and her eyes pierced Jasmine.

  “You have to find a way to get out of here. Find those women.”

  Last night four women from some shelter had brought coffee and doughnuts to the girls on the street. She’d ignored them, but Lily had talked to one of the ladies. Jasmine shook her head. “I can’t leave you like this. I have to get medicine and bring it to you.”

  “No . . .” Lily’s chest barely moved. “Can’t breathe.” Her feverish eyes locked on to Jasmine’s. “Promise.”

  Jasmine wanted to promise, but after the “modeling agent” sold her to Blade, she’d tried to get away. Escaped three times. She rubbed the scar inside her forearm. The first time, a cop found her and took her back to Blade. He branded her with his initials and beat her until half her ribs were broken. The next time he locked her in a closet for a week. The last time, he’d beaten her and locked her in her room for three weeks with nothing but moldy bread and very little water. She never tried aga
in.

  They both jerked as Blade’s voice thundered from the front of the house, ordering the women to assemble for the ride into town.

  “Those women . . .” Lily’s breathing grew shallower. “They . . . will . . . help.”

  Jasmine couldn’t think about trying to escape again. “They may not be there. Blade will probably drop us off in a different part of the city,” she said, looking toward the door when he shouted her name. Maybe if she told him how sick Lily was, he’d get help for her.

  She turned to tell Lily she’d be right back and her heart stilled.

  Lily was dead.

  EARLY APRIL 2012

  At a coffee shop near Nashville, Carly Smith typed “Lia Morgan” into the Facebook search engine, then chose Tennessee’s second largest city for where to search. It had been ten years since she’d seen her sister, and she was probably married by now. Still, there couldn’t be too many Lias in Memphis.

  She hesitated with her finger poised over the enter key and closed her eyes. It had taken two years after she escaped Blade to get the courage to look for her sister. Two years and a name change. What if Lia wanted nothing to do with Carly? She wouldn’t blame her. The feeling of worthlessness she struggled with daily washed over her. The psychiatrist she saw every two weeks had told her it would take time to put her past behind her, but Carly didn’t believe she’d ever be free of her fear and shame. Opening her eyes, she pushed aside her hesitation and tapped enter.

  While she waited, Carly fingered the gold bracelet around her wrist. Chains looped together with a locket dangling in the middle. She’d had an artist draw Lily’s likeness for the inside of the locket. Lily. She would never have stood for Carly’s self-pity.

  She straightened her shoulders as only one Lia Morgan popped up on her screen. Carly studied the small image. The woman in the photo had shorter hair than she remembered . . . but it was definitely her sister. She clicked on the name, and Lia’s Facebook page opened.

  Oh, wow. Evidently her sister was a freelance photographer. That shouldn’t surprise Carly, not the way Lia had always gone around with a camera in her hand. She studied the page. Portraits, sports, events, crime scenes—Lia covered it all. And based on all the awards she’d received, she was good. A phone number for her studio was listed on the sidebar, and Carly put the number in her phone.

  Should she call her? She wished her friend Jamie was here—she’d know what to do. Her fingers hovered over the call button. What if Lia hung up when she told her who she was? Lia was bound to be angry with her for just dropping out of her life. Carly pressed her dry lips into a thin line. No. She couldn’t do it. Not today. But she saved the number and slipped her phone in her pocket.

  A week later, Carly sat in the same coffee shop, tears stinging her eyes as the barista set an oversized cupcake on the table. Another of the employees lit the one candle. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

  Jamie Parker smiled. “I couldn’t let your birthday go by without a celebration.”

  The barista cleared her throat, and Carly jerked her head up. “Please. Don’t sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me.”

  “No one is singing to you,” Jamie said with a laugh. “I still remember last year at the restaurant. I thought you were going to have a stroke. Now make a wish and blow the candle out.”

  Carly paused, then leaned forward and blew out the flame. Everyone around her clapped and she nodded her thanks, resisting the urge to fan her heated cheeks.

  “What did you wish for?” Jamie asked when they were alone again.

  Carly busied herself with cutting the cupcake. All day she’d been thinking about birthdays past that she’d spent with Lia. “You have to help me eat this,” she said.