Joe Robertson’s life never panned out. In college, he was a top draft pick until his knee blew-out in the NCAA Championship game on what he claimed, was a cheap shot by Drew Waters. Choosing a second career in construction, he clawed up the ranks, becoming the top Civil Project Manager in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. But that didn’t last. A scandal broke out; he was accused of offering bribes to state inspectors. The allegations were never proven; the damage was done. The only job he could obtain was a foreman’s position. But that wouldn’t last.
The only saving grace was his wife Julie, until she was involved in a horrific traffic accident that would launch them into a macabre dance of, betrayal, sex, murder and redemption.
Julie never saw the 2012, red, F-250 pickup careening down the road, until it slammed into the passenger door of her 2002 Acura. Instead, she was focused on her to do list as she entered the intersection:
1) Drop off kids
2) Hit the gym—one hour
3) Call two clients
4) Check with Sherry on pending appointments
5) Call the contractors—verify status of each project
6) Show Dan and Sherry their dream home.
7) Call the bank on the two pending contracts…
The force of the impact pushed her car two hundred feet down the road. Her Acura resembled a broken “U” instead of the sleek, well tended vehicle she loved.
Voices drifted in and out of her realm of consciousness; yelling out commands. She tried to move her hands with no response. She tried her legs; they too, were unreceptive. Panic gripped her mind and body. She needed to see why her well-toned muscles weren’t responding. She willed her eyes to open, with no luck. They felt glued shut. Her level of panic increased. Her heat-beat accelerated and her blood pressure spiked. She had to know what was happening. In her frantic state she twisted her body to the left. Searing pain overwhelmed her brain’s sensory receptors—she passed.
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