1

      SARAH HEWITT had never crashed a party before. Or broken into a safe. But there was a first time for everything, and tonight she was planning to do both.

      Her black leather boots crunched in the snow as she stealthily approached the Wolff mansion. Bright lights shone from the tall windows gracing the front of the grand edifice, casting an eerie crystal glow on the snowy mountainside. Towering pine trees surrounded the open black wrought-iron gate, making it easy for her to slip inside the private grounds unnoticed.

      She’d left her twelve-year-old Toyota parked on an unpaved road a half mile away. The crisp mountain air had numbed her cheeks as she’d made the remainder of the journey to the Wolff mansion on foot. Now her breath came in quick, uneven puffs of frosty air, though more from the anticipation of the night ahead than the steep uphill hike she’d just taken. Adrenaline pumped through her veins now, warming her from the inside out. She wiggled her frozen toes inside her boots as sharp pinpricks of feeling slowly flowed back into them.

      From her vantage point on the mountain, she could see tiny dots of lights marking the city of Denver, which lay twenty miles to the east. That’s where she lived with her grandfather, who assumed Sarah was out celebrating New Year’s Eve with her friends.

      Little did he know she was about to follow his footsteps into a life of crime.

      She moved swiftly in the shadows toward the mansion, watching as a steady string of shiny black limousines made their way around the circular driveway. Each one stopped briefly at the front entrance to let its costumed passengers disembark.

      The Wolffs’ annual masquerade ball was one of the highlights of the Denver social season. Or so she’d heard. Sarah didn’t pay much attention to lives of the rich and famous. She was too busy trying to earn enough money so she could finally pursue her master’s degree in sociology. She was currently working two jobs—as a bank teller during the day and a waitress evenings and weekends.

      When Sarah had glimpsed an invitation to the Wolffs’ masquerade ball on the bank president’s desk, she knew it had been a little nudge from fate. It couldn’t have simply been by chance that she’d been given the perfect opportunity to correct a horrible mistake before it came back to haunt her family.

      Standing near the front entrance now, hidden behind a massive marble column, Sarah watched as the doorman stood inside the open foyer to welcome the arriving guests. She pulled her long, hooded red cloak more tightly around her, grateful she’d picked a warm costume.

      Little Red Riding Hood’s red wool cloak, elbow-length red gloves, and black leather boots were perfect for traipsing around a mountain in the middle of winter. As an added advantage, the gloves would ensure that she left no telltale fingerprints behind.

      Peering through the slits of her red mask, she leaned farther around the column to see a commotion in the foyer. One of the arriving guests, a woman dressed as a Las Vegas