CHAPTER ONE

      “G. DELANEY, YOU look beautiful tonight.” Chet Crowder slurred the compliment.

      Sheriff Grace Delaney glanced down at her khaki uniform, thought of her black cap of hair slicked back for convenience and her lack of makeup beyond a swipe of mascara and a touch of lip gloss, and figured if she needed any further evidence of Chet’s intoxication she had proof of it in that comment.

      “Is it midnight yet?” the eighty-year-old demanded. “I get a kiss at midnight.” The words barely left his mouth when he bent over and puked all over the slick concrete floor.

      “It’s against procedures to kiss the prisoners.” Grace cited policy as she nimbly avoided the deluge, stepping around the mess to escort him to the middle cell.

      “But it’s New Year’s Eve,” Chet protested with a burp. “You can make an ex-exception for New Year’s Eve.”

      He didn’t have to tell her it was New Year’s Eve. Not even eleven o’clock and they already had three D and Ds—drunk and disorderly. Business as usual for the holiday. But not much longer for her. In a little over an hour she’d be handing over her gun and shield, her interim assignment as sheriff at an end.

      “Rules are made for a reason,” she stated. Her father’s mantra, and thus the words she’d lived her life by. He’d been on her mind a lot tonight. “No exceptions.”

      “You’re a beautiful woman, G. Delaney.” Chet lumbered across the cell to the cot chained to the wall. “But no fun. That’s why I didn’t vote for you. Too serious, girl. Need to have a drink and lighten up some.”

      Grace’s shoulders went up and back in instinctive defense against the criticism. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard she needed to lighten up. She didn’t understand it any more now than she had before. Being sheriff was serious business. Laws were meant to be upheld.

      “Go to sleep, Chet. I’ll release you in the morning.” Well, someone would. She’d be on her way to San Francisco. With her term over and her dad gone she had nothing to stay here for—certainly not the pity job offered by her successor.

      Moving to the mop bucket she’d had maintenance leave at the ready, she rolled it over and cleaned up Chet’s mess. New Year’s was one of two big festive events that got the residents drinking in Woodpark, California, entry to the Redwoods. The other was the annual fair and rodeo at the Fourth of July. She’d been told last year had been tame because of a heavy snowfall, but they’d still had eight citizens sharing cell space.