Page 24 of Their Little Foursome

Kept him from total despair at the sight of the slight movement of a hand as he carefully pulled debris and yet another lost soul off to find a young woman, her face smeared with a mixture of black and red.

When her eyelids fluttered before they lifted, and their gazes met, hope flared brightly within him.

“I promise you’re going to be okay,” he said softly.

As she lifted her hand toward him, he bent closer, not wanting her to further injure herself. “Don’t move. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

“Pro… promise?”

Blake nodded, placing his hand over the one she’d pressed to his cheek, guiding it down to gently lay across her chest. “I promise. I’m going to get you out of here. You’re going to be just fine.”

An entire lifetime passed in a mere moment as he watched the green of the emeralds dim when the light within them faded before they closed.

Blake didn’t remember how he got back to the opening in the truck, had no memory of screaming so loudly for help that his throat was raw for a week. All he could remember was placing her body on a gurney, begging God to do what he’d been unable to do and save her. Instead, he watched her arm fall from the gurney, the hand she’d curled into his completely lifeless.

That was the moment the flame of hope that had carried him through the worst night of his life died.

The story had been on every network, every newspaper in print and on-line. Turning off his television, shutting down his laptop and ignoring the updates on his phone hadn’t helped. As a first responder on the scene, he’d filed reports, made statements, forcing himself to go on, though he did so as a zombie. He barely ate, his sleep was interrupted by nightmares every night. He no longer cared what happened to him, he kept going for one reason and one reason alone.

While hope had died that night…

The need for justice had been born.

He felt like he was only half living until the day two years later, when Blake had donned his uniform and entered the courtroom. When he was called, he gave his testimony in a voice that never wavered. As he answered every question, the flame he’d not experienced since that night so long ago fluttered in his chest.

Blake saw something in the gray-blue depths of the prosecutor's eyes.

A promise.

A promise that the ones responsible for kidnapping, snatching, and transporting young women and men to a destination worse than hell itself would pay the ultimate price.

A promise that Blake wore like armor against the knowledge that while the two men on trial gave no consideration to the nearly one hundred lives they’d taken,the assistant district attorney would remind them that their victims were not cargo… were not just inventory. Each one had been a human being. Every person inside that truck had left behind someone who’d known them, who’d laughed with them, who’d fought with and forgiven them, who’d held them, loved them, and would forever grieve for them.

A promise that would release Blake from the grip of despair he’d lived with ever since the night when he’d learned that the devil wasn’t some evil creature with horns on their head and a pitchfork as their weapon. No, evil grinned and looked out from behind masks of so many who walked undetected among the innocents here on earth. They wore everything from jeans and sandals to bespoke Armani suits and Italian loafers. They had many occupations and none at all. Their weapons were more powerful than any and yet took no materials to create and cost not a penny.

Weapons that existed when people replaced their souls with a total disregard for the sanctity of their fellow human beings’ lives.

Blake had spent hundreds of hours torn between wondering if what so many people said was true. That as appalling as it had been, perhaps the accident had been a blessing because those who died were spared the hell the traffickers would have sold them into. No one would ever know how many of the victims had died within hours of the truck skidding on the slick pavement of a dark, seldom-traveled back road before jackknifing. They’d never understand the terror the victims felt as the trailer fell on its side, dragging the cab with it before it broke away to roll over and over, tearing limbs off trees, digging huge divots in the earth before coming to rest among the rocks in a ditch twenty feet below the road’s surface. Never be able to imagine how those not instantly killed had felt whenthey realized they were trapped, that water was coming inside when the door had skewed slightly.

Perhaps it had been a blessing for those who’d died quickly.

But all Blake could think about was the one who’d fought with all she had to live, who’d refused to surrender to those who’d cared nothing for her.

The one who’d still be alive if a passing car could have seen the carnage just out of sight, or if the cyclist who’d had to stop to repair a hole in his tire had decided to take their ride only a day or two earlier and had found the truck sooner. If it hadn’t taken hours to get the proper equipment to the scene to pry the mangled doors open enough for Blake to squeeze through.

If he’d reached her just a few minutes earlier.

If he’d been able to keep the promise he’d made.

No… it certainly hadn’t been a blessing for the girl with the emerald eyes.

All he could do now was listen as the assistant district attorney turned over the case to twelve people. And as Blake watched each member of the jury file out of the courtroom, all he could do was pray that the flutter of hope he felt for the first time in a long time, wouldn’t betray him yet again.

It took three days before the jury returned. Once again, Blake was in the gallery when the foreman rose from his chair. It wasn’t the words being read that Blake would remember hearing first—it was the sound of laughter. It felt as if time had stopped as he turned his gaze from the jury box to the table where the defendants had sat with total boredom on their faces for weeks, only to find them standing, smiling, laughing, and high-fiving each other while Blake and every other person in the room sat stunned and silent.

Time did not begin again until Blake turned his head and met the ADA’s eyes once more.

He didn’t care that the man looked as broken as Blake felt.

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