Term of Probation: Book 2 of the Yashmea Trilogy

By Beverly Brooks

The second book of The Yashmea Trilogy, TERM OF PROBATION, follows a modern-day probation officer named Malachi who is stalked by evil. The prince of evil, Luchar, is out to even an old score of defeat, determined this time not to lose to Yashmea. Spiritual forces of angels and demons wage war, death is everywhere, and a lonely cabin in the North Woods stages the final battle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Aug 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490847436

Beverly Brooks

Beverly Brooks has been a probation officer for almost twenty years. She is actively involved with youth and drama ministries at Community Christian Church in Waukegan, Illinois. She and her husband, Wayne, a chief of police, have been married thirty-three years.

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Copyright © 2014 Beverly Brooks.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-4741-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-4742-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-4743-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014914053

WestBow Press rev. date: 08/13/2014

Contents

Acknowledgments

The Beginning And The End … Again

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

Epilogue

To probation officers everywhere and the angels that work among them.

To police officers who stand in harm’s way and amid evil in hopes of keeping families safe—including their own.

To the senior saints of this world who have much to share.

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

—Ephesians 6:12

Acknowledgments

T o my beloved husband, Wayne, who over the years has gone from patrol officer to police chief, teaching me along the way about scary things and perseverance. I have long admired your dedication to the community and the officers with whom you serve.

The living force of inspiration: tell the next generation, the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord, his power, and the wonders he has done (Psalm 78:4).

For ongoing inspiration from our next generations—our children and grandchildren as well as our youth groups, past and present—at Community Christian Church. May you know the friendship of the Christ for eternity. Remember when you grow old that if He tarries, tell the next generation.

Thanks to my precious friends and their prayer support: Teresa Knight, Margarita Landrau, Brenda Pates, Tracy Streiter, Nicole Totoni, and Diane Uhl.

Many thanks to my brother by marriage, Randy Brooks, who has encouraged, supported, and become a one-man marketing team out of New York. You are the best!

Thank you for technical support to those of the Nineteenth Judicial Circuit: Rose Gray, director of adult probation; Winnie Webber, IT director JIS; and Matt Bond, unit manager for the probation field surveillance unit.

And to the many family and friends who have believed in me and encouraged me. Thank you!

THE BEGINNING AND THE END … AGAIN

M alachi’s life now depended on the lightning-swift decision she had just made. Having left the cabin, she now stealthily moved toward the darkness of the forest, glancing back frequently. If she could just reach the cover of the trees and make her way to the road, she might have a chance. Malachi fingered her purple cell phone deep in her coat pocket. Dare she try to use it now? No, too close. Sound carries in the night, and so does evil.

A faint noise back by the cabin alerted her senses and Malachi strained in the inky blackness to see. But the lights of the cabin, which were on when she stole out the lower level door, were now extinguished. He too must be standing outside the cabin searching for her. Malachi stilled her breathing and forced her muscles to let go of their tense stance.

Yashmea. She whispered the name.

Silence and darkness braided themselves together as a net into the night. She could hear nothing, and she could see nothing. As Malachi bolted into the tree line, the sound of swift movement came from behind her. She ran with every fiber of her nerves taut and her muscles pushing forward. Trees slapped her and pricked their pine needles into her face and hands. Biting cold now lapped at her skin and the snow was wrestling with her feet. Still she ran.

But the footsteps of the horrifying evil were catching up.

1

M alachi sat in the courtroom waiting for the proceedings to begin. Adjusting her jacket slightly, she observed the attorneys buzzing about the front as they checked in on their cases. They all seemed to be talking at the same time to the assistant state’s attorneys and each other. A few gave a brief moment to their clients. Malachi, a probation officer with the sex offender unit, rarely made court appearances, unless it was necessary. Her caseload was just too high. But this time, it was necessary, she mused as she slowly turned her eyes to take in the gallery of the courtroom.

As Malachi looked around, a man in a blue shirt with tan pinstripes and well-pressed khaki pants was doing his own perusing of the courtroom. Soon, a disheveled man in blue jeans and a stained blue T-shirt, tugging a little girl by the hand, shoved into the bench next to him. The neatly dressed man moved down slightly to accommodate them then turned his eyes to the little girl. She was probably eight years old with messy blonde hair to the middle of her back and large, luminous, blue eyes. The predator in khaki pants looked at her—his perfect type.

Suddenly, Malachi felt a chill in the courtroom. The presence of evil. She fingered her gold necklace slowly and tried to pinpoint the cause of her sudden discomfort.

All rise. The deputy surveyed the courtroom for compliance as he spoke.

Dismissing the odd feeling, Malachi rose to her feet as the judge entered the room.

***

Malachi had finished her courtroom testimony and now stood near the staircase that attached the six floors of the courthouse. Her hand resting on the banister, gray walls watched her repose as Malachi focused on her inner turmoil. Drawn to stop here, feeling that same eerie presence that had been in the courtroom earlier, she looked around with a recurring chill grasping her body. Again, Malachi reached for her necklace. Footsteps descended the stairwell in a slow, steady pace attracting her attention. Two probation officers were headed toward the second level that led to the felony courtrooms she had just exited. They nodded briefly as they approached.

How is McGuire today, Mal? said the younger of the two. Colin was a smoothly groomed officer in his late twenties. Slicked spikes of brown hair and a photo-ready smile, Colin was popular in the office. Not waiting for a response, he moved on toward the door, smiling broadly.

Malachi met his gaze briefly, shrugged her shoulders, and turned her attention to the accompanying officer. Mason, a twenty-five year veteran, rolled his eyes. He stopped before the door that led to the corridors for court and looked at Malachi.

Dave is looking for you.

Okay, thanks, Mason. I’ll check in with him as soon as I get back.

So seriously, were you in McGuire’s courtroom?

Just to drop off a report. I was gone before he took the bench. Then I went over to Simonelli for a hearing, which of course didn’t go today. But they did take a look at the bond and raised it. Locked up Kendall, so that’s a relief.

Is that the guy you were telling us about where you were outside the victim’s apartment and saw him go in? Mason shifted the two red felony files on the side of his hip.

Yes. I got a tip that he was making contact. I swear I thought my eyes were going to cross by the time I got to the bathroom that day. Two hours of just sitting—but worth it.

It was good work, Mal. But I know it cost you in the office. Probably why Dave wants to see you.

I’m sure. My blessed computer notes are behind yet again.

Well, hang in there. I’ll catch up with you after court. I actually do have an appearance in McGuire’s courtroom.

Good luck with that.

The officers turned their separate ways, and with the click of the door closing, Malachi moved on down the staircase. Everyone had heard about the recent event with Judge McGuire … She still didn’t understand it. Mentally, she tried to comfort herself by remembering as a seasoned officer she was hardly unfamiliar with a bad court experience. On the other hand, she had that same case up again next month. Sighing, Malachi continued down the stairs and crossed the street to go into the main entrance of probation. Although a walkover bridge attached the courtside complex to the probation department, Malachi always preferred the fresh air after the gray, stifling atmosphere of the courtrooms and corridors.

Unconsciously, Malachi squared her shoulders as she reached for the glass doors that opened to the department. In a fleeting movement of mind and body, she braced to leave the bright sunlight for the indoor beige walls and glaring fluorescents.

Hey, Kevin, how’s the new baby?

The security guard looked up and grinned broadly. Kevin was a large man with ebony skin and muscles rippling beneath the blue uniform shirt. Probably the nicest guy who had ever worked as a guard. The clients liked him too. He recently had announced to all that his first child had been born, an adorable chubby girl, and had pictures ready for anyone who cared to see them.

Doing well, Miss Malachi. Doing well. I have a new look on my phone. Kevin held out the shiny cover enclosing his precious baby daughter as the screensaver.

Malachi stopped and held the phone for a moment, staring at the screen. Adorable, Kevin. No doubt the cutest I’ve seen in years. Returning the phone and with a brief hand to Kevin’s shoulder, she moved on toward her office.

Malachi had just tossed a red folder to the stack that precariously formed a pile on the table behind her desk when the phone rang. Her head dropped as Malachi noted the caller ID was internal—the boss’s number.

Hey, Dave. What’s up?

The summons to his office was abrupt and Malachi was left holding a phone with no one on the other end. Great, she thought, just perfect after the courtroom. With a sigh, she turned back around and headed for the large office at the corner of her hallway.

Close the door, Malachi, and have a seat. How was McGuire today?

Same as every other day, I guess. I just dropped off a report.

For what it’s worth, it wasn’t your fault.

Malachi nodded.

Dave tried again. Have I ever told you what happened to me in Judge Oliver’s courtroom years ago?

Malachi fidgeted in the chair. How to handle this? Of course he’d told her. He’d told every officer he had trained for the last twenty years.

That judge was out to get me. He humiliated me in front of a full courtroom and then called the director. I had to suck it up every day for ten years until he retired—

I know, Dave. I remember you telling me when I started. I’m fine. What exactly did you want to see me about?

Dave was fifty-five, stocky with graying hair and a hard-nosed approach to his staff, which actually covered a soft spot of concern for their increasingly high workloads and what he considered dangerously low safety measures in the department. His staff was loyal and hardworking. Nonetheless, Dave had pressures as a manager that sometimes didn’t mesh with his own ideas for his staff. This was one of those times.

Malachi, I have reviewed some of your cases and done a search on term dates. You have thirty cases that should have been closed and the cases I reviewed have no notes for the last two months.

Sir, with all due respect, closed cases are not my priority. They’re done. As for notes, I know exactly what has happened on every case and I have handwritten notes on the report forms … I just don’t have them in the computer yet.

Dave rubbed his forehead and set his jaw. Malachi, you know the push. Everything has to be in the computer, and to get accurate case counts, your cases have to be closed out. Here’s a list. He shoved two sheets of paper across the desk.

Malachi reached for them and could feel the knot forming in her stomach. She realized Dave could read her flushed face and pursed lips. He probably hates this part of his job.

They need to be completed within two weeks—everything caught up. We are coming up on an audit at the end of August. Inwardly Dave cursed the audit but leveled his eyes at his officer.

Fine, I’ll get on it. Malachi stood up. Anything else?

Yeah, I’ve pulled you from intake rotation so you can focus on this. Do a living and breathing on any scheduled clients and avoid court if possible. That’s it. Dave pulled his chair forward and moved his eyes to paperwork on his desk.

Thanks. As Malachi walked out the door, she knew her discouragement was not for Dave. He must have fought hard to get her out of rotation. This catch-up would have been impossible if she had to keep seeing clients and conducting initial intake interviews. It was hours to get each new case started by the time all the data was entered, information gathered, testing completed, criminal histories run, and the referral for treatment forwarded. Not to mention trying to fit in the home visit in the sprawling county.

Malachi sighed deeply. Returning to her desk, she put the two pages of closings and cases that needed notes in the only clear spot left.

Malachi Rivers, please call reception.

Reaching for the phone, Malachi punched the speed dial set to the reception area and waited for the smooth voice of Susanna to answer.

Seeing the internal name ID, Susanna picked up the phone. Hey, Malachi, have fun at court?

Always. What’s up?

You have a Melissa Coburn here. Says she doesn’t have an appointment but needs to see you.

I’ll be right up.

Inwardly, Malachi groaned. Melissa Coburn was the very needy wife of one of the sex offenders on her caseload. Sam Coburn had been convicted of an offense against a former neighbor’s daughter. While his court order did not allow contact with minors, the court had allowed the family to stay together, providing their son and daughter were not left alone with the defendant. Malachi had a bad feeling about Sam and his daughter ever since the first home visit. So she had made a point of establishing a relationship with Melissa and encouraged the wife to contact Malachi if she noticed anything unusual.

Now Melissa frequently called or stopped by, mostly out of a need for a social connection. Her family had severed contact. She was forced to move from the neighborhood where they had been for fifteen years and now had no one to talk to or even interact with on any level. Malachi headed to the front reception area.

Melissa. Malachi opened the door connecting the front lobby to the entry area of the probation offices.