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“I have a Swiss Army knife in my bag,” she said with a blatantly false smile. “Would you care to borrow the scissors?”

He rubbed his jaw and gave her an appraising look. “You know, I didn’t see the family resemblance at first. But now I do. Your grandmother’s a smart ass, too.”

Before she could think up a scathing response to that remark, they were interrupted by a woman wearing a belted tan raincoat, clear-plastic rain boots over sensible shoes, and a frown. She was carrying a clipboard.

“Ms. Cantrell?” she asked.

“I’m Raine Cantrell,” Raine confirmed.

“I’m Marianne Kelly. I’m a probation officer for Olympic County.”

Old Fussbudget, Raine remembered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Kelly,” she lied. “I only wish it could have been under more pleasant circumstances.”

“Yes. Well.” It was the probation officer’s turn to glance toward the truck where the teenagers were watching the proceedings with glum expressions. “It’s getting late and I need to ensure that my probationers are settled for the night. If there isn’t an adult available to take responsibility for them, I’m going to have to transfer them to a juvenile-detention facility.”

Raine could just imagine her grandmother’s reaction if she stood idly by and allowed that to happen. “Isn’t that a little harsh, Ms. Kelly?” she asked mildly. “Under the circumstances? After all, they’re just young girls.”

“Perhaps you haven’t been kept apprised of the situation, Ms. Cantrell. These
girls
created a crisis today—”

“There wasn’t any crisis,” Jack interjected. “That was just the stupid word the media came up with to boost ratings for the six-o’clock news.”

A nerve twitched at the corner of the probation officer’s left eyelid. “That may be your view of matters, Sheriff, but the fact remains that their behavior was highly unacceptable for probationers. And they cost the county a great deal of money.”

He shrugged. “I get paid a straight salary, Ms. Kelly. Which doesn’t make allowances for overtime. The most I can see that they cost the county was the price of a couple of pizzas, and if it’ll keep them out of the pokey, I’ll spring for them myself.”

“That’s a matter you’ll have to take up with the county treasurer,” the woman said briskly. “My concern is what to do with these delinquents.”

“Girls,” Jack corrected.

“Girls,” Raine said at the same time.

They exchanged a look.

“What about my mother?” Raine asked, directing her question at the sheriff. “Has Lilith been found?”

“Yep. But I don’t think she’s going to prove a solution to this problem.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s currently incarcerated.”

“
What
?” It had been a long day for Raine, too. She decided that Sheriff O’Halloran’s patience wasn’t the only one hanging by a very thin thread. “You arrested my mother?”

“Not me. Cooper Ryan. He’s a park service cop. Seems your mother was breaking a few fire regulations.”

Talk about your small worlds. Raine remembered Lilith once expressing regret that she’d let her high school sweetheart get away. Coming from her mother, who’d never been one to admit to errors in judgement, that was definitely saying something.

“Well.” Her mind, dulled by the long day and a touch of jet lag, went into overdrive, attempting to come up with a solution. She looked over at the Suburban again, viewed the expectant expressions on all three girl’s faces, and knew that what they were expecting was to be thrown back into the system.

“Would the court find me an acceptable temporary adult guardian?”

“I believe that would be satisfactory,” Ms. Kelly said after a moment’s hesitation. “Until the hearing.”

“When will that be?”

“The juvenile-court calendar’s extremely crowded at the moment, but since this is a special case requiring immediate attention, I could probably find a judge to hear the case in say, three days?”

Three days. It wasn’t that long, Raine assured herself as she took the clipboard Marianne Kelly was now holding out to her. It was more than enough time to get Lilith out of jail, Ida out of the hospital, the two sisters off to their aunt’s custody, and determine whether the pregnant shoplifter posed a risk to her grandmother.

Ignoring Jack O’Halloran’s challenging grin, Raine signed her name at the bottom of all three guardianship forms.

“W
ell, that makes it official. They’re all yours.” From Marianne Kelly’s grim expression, Raine did not find the words at all encouraging.

That matter settled to her satisfaction, Old Fussbudget marched back to a tan sedan. Both Jack and Raine watched her go.

“That was a nice thing to do,” he said finally.

Somehow, the compliment, laced with obvious surprise, irritated her more than his earlier sarcasm. “It wasn’t as if I had any choice.” Her words were clipped, designed to forestall any further conversation on the subject. “Now, where did you say I could find my mother?”

“I didn’t.” Just when she was certain she was going to grind her molars to dust, he added, “But she’s at the ranger station on Hurricane Ridge.”

“I didn’t realize they had jail cells in federal parks.”

He shrugged again, drawing her gaze to his shoulders, which were wide enough to gain him a position on the Giants’ offensive line back in New York. Not that she could ever picture Jack O’Halloran living in New York City. He was absolutely country, from the tip of that black Stetson down to the pointy toes of his—what else?—cowboy boots.

The fact that she was even the slightest bit intrigued by the steely, Clint Eastwood glint that occasionally appeared in his narrowed gray eyes only proved how exhausted she was.

“Unfortunately, bad guys show up from time to time even in federal parks,” he said. “Although mostly it’s just drunk and disorderly, that sort of thing.”

“And breaking fire regulations.”

A wry twitch that hinted at a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, momentarily drawing her attention to a faint scar bisecting his top lip. “That, too. Coop said something about teaching her a lesson.”

“If he can pull that off, he’s a miracle worker.” Along with flaunting rules and regulations, Lilith had a knack for ignoring the little morality lessons most people learned from life. “But there’s no way I’m going to allow him to keep her locked up in a cell all night.”

“It’s not like she’s doing hard time.”

“I realize that,” Raine said stiffly.

It was the principle of the thing. After all, she used her education every day to defend individuals far less deserving than Lilith. If she couldn’t help her own mother, she might as well have stayed in Coldwater Cove, married some logger or cowboy cop like Jack O’Halloran right out of high school, and had a passel of kids. She wondered about her chances of getting a writ of
habeas corpus
to get her mother out tonight.

“But surely disobeying fire regulations is a misdemeanor. Besides”—she glared up at the rain which continued to pelt down on the hood of the borrowed poncho—“we’re obviously not in fire season yet.”

“True. And if it were just the fires, Coop might have been willing to give her a pass.” He rubbed a square, clefted jaw that suggested a stubborn streak. “Not that I’d claim to know his mind, but as a fellow cop, I’d have to guess that it was the lewd and lascivious behavior, along with indecent exposure and assault and battery, that landed your mother in the pokey.”

“Lewd and lascivious behavior? Indecent exposure?”

Forget
habeas corpus
. Raine was forced to consider her chances of insisting on a competency hearing for her mother. If past behavior were taken into account, she doubted it would be all that hard to win a finding of
non compos mentis
. Although her mother might not be certifiably insane, anyone who took the time to have a serious discussion with Lilith for more than five minutes could easily judge her incompetent to stand trial.

“And assault and battery,” he reminded her.

“Damn.” Raine rubbed the back of her neck, where strands of hair clung like seaweed. “I don’t suppose you’d happen to know whom, exactly, she’s accused of committing this battery on?”

“Actually, I do. It was Coop.”

Her heart sank all the way down to the toes of her sloshy, egg-stained pumps. “My mother assaulted the arresting officer?”

“Well, it was more like a slap, to hear Coop tell it. But I suppose, technically, he could hit her with a resisting arrest charge, too.”

Even worse. She just didn’t need this. Not now. She’d been running on caffeine and adrenaline for weeks. Now that the buzz from the espresso she’d drunk on the ferry was beginning to wear off, she could feel the physical and mental letdown sneaking up behind her.

“You know,” he suggested mildly, “the park jail isn’t exactly Folsom Prison. It won’t hurt her to spend a night there. And it just might give her time to think about behavior and consequences.”

Raine’s answering laugh was flat and humorless. “It’s obvious you don’t know my mother.” She looked back at the Suburban. “Since there’s no way I’m going to risk leaving those girls alone in my grandmother’s house, I suppose I’ll just have to take them to Hurricane Ridge with me.”

He swore under his breath. “You are definitely Ida’s granddaughter.” Seemingly mindless of the rain, he yanked off his hat and raked his fingers through his thick dark hair. “Neither of you women know the meaning of the word
quit
.”

Raine tossed up her chin, bracing herself for another skirmish. “Oh, I know the meaning all right. I just don’t believe in it.”

He jammed the hat back down on his head. Then closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his crooked nose. Then sighed heavily. And cursed again. It was, Raine considered, the most emotion the man had shown thus far.

“That road to Hurricane Ridge is tricky enough in the daylight in dry weather. If you insist on bailing your mother out tonight, I’ll drive you up there.”

He seemed torn between aggravation and pity. It was the pity that Raine hated.

“That’s not necessary.” Unwilling to surrender to his unblinking cop stare, which she had no doubt had earned him a dandy confession rate during interrogations, she straightened both her back and her resolve. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own family, Sheriff. Legally and personally.”

“You’re dead on your feet,” he countered. “No offense intended, Counselor, but you kind of remind me of one of the walking zombies in all those horror flicks I used to like as a kid.

“And although I’ve no doubt that you’re a real go-getter back in New York City”—he drawled the name of her adopted city with an unmistakable lack of respect—“this just happens to be
my
county. And there’s no way I’m going to spend the rest of tonight out in this damn rain picking up the pieces after you drive off that cliff. Because as bad as you look right now, you’d look a helluva lot worse dead.”

His granite face tightened into harsh angles and dangerous planes; his expression turned as uncompromising as the jagged, snow-spined Olympic mountains jutting up behind him.

It was at that moment, as he looked down at her, arms folded across his chest, that Raine knew for certain what she’d already begun to suspect. Jack O’Halloran’s outwardly easygoing facade and good-old-boy behavior concealed a granite will that might actually prove more unyielding than her own. Oh yes, she thought grimly, Choate, Plimpton, Wells & Sullivan’s comptroller, Harriet Farraday, would definitely approve of this man.

“Well.” She stared up at him. “No one can accuse you of mincing words, Sheriff.”

When he didn’t say anything, just stood there, his brows and his mouth both drawn into an unrelentingly unyielding line, Raine experienced a renewed spark of competition.

“You realize, of course, that you have no legal authority to keep me from driving anywhere in this county I wish to go.”

“I wouldn’t bet the farm on that one.”

Proving to be just one unpleasant surprise after another, he turned on a booted heel, strode over to her rental car, and while Raine watched in stunned shock, this man wearing the badge of authority—a sheriff who’d taken an oath to uphold the law!—took a huge black flashlight from his wide belt and smashed the car’s left taillight.

All her verbal skills abandoned Raine. She was still sputtering in protest when he returned to where her feet seemed to have been nailed to the driveway.

“Although you may be a little rusty on Washington State law, having spent all that time back east, even in New York City, it’s undoubtedly illegal to drive without two working taillights. Especially at night.

“You move that car five feet out of this driveway, Counselor, and I’m going to have to pull you over. And, perhaps, just for good measure, I’ll impound the car. As evidence.”

Coldwater Cove may not be the big city, but it had always been a civilized little town. At least it had been when she’d last visited, three years ago. Of course back then, this man’s father had been sheriff.

“Surely you don’t think you’re going to get away with that?” Raine hated the way her fractured voice sounded like a stranger’s. Her elocution had always been one of her best courtroom weapons.

“I can sure as hell give it the old college try. If push comes to shove, I’ll throw myself on the mercy of the court.”

The trace of renewed amusement in his voice reminded her that the court in question just happened to be presided over by his old high school baseball team catcher, Wally Cunningham.
Hell
.

Knowing when she’d been out maneuvered, Raine tried to remind herself that the key was to keep her eye on the prize. How many times had she had to remind clients of that little truism? So long as you remembered what you wanted to achieve, the road to that end could take any number of unexpected twists and turns along the way.

And Jack O’Halloran was definitely the most unexpected and unwelcome detour on a very exasperating trip.

Unable to throw in the towel without having the last word, Raine glared up at him. “If breaking my taillight was your idea of upholding the law in your county, Sheriff, I’d love to know how you got elected. What did you do? Threaten to drag out the truncheons and rubber hoses to anyone who didn’t vote for you?” The scowl was replaced with a blatantly false smile. “Or did you simply stuff the ballot boxes?”

“Neither one.”

If he was at all wounded by her sarcasm, he didn’t show it. His grin was one she remembered well from high school days. The dangerous, cocky-as-hell grin that had undoubtedly coaxed more than one buxom cheerleader into the back seat of his Batmobile black Trans Am.

“I simply relied on my devastating good looks and legendary superhero crime-fighting abilities. Oh, and of course my natural O’Halloran male charm,” he tacked on with an exaggerated display of that alleged charm.

The man really was impossible. “I suppose being the son of the former sheriff didn’t hurt either.” Her tone was as dry as a legal brief.

“No.” The grin faded at the mention of his father. Shutters came down over his eyes. “I suppose it didn’t.” He rubbed a broad hand down his face, and when he took it away, Raine realized that he was as weary as she was.

Which wasn’t all that surprising, she supposed, given the fact that the day undoubtedly hadn’t been a picnic for him, either. The sensible thing to do would be to just bury the hatchet and get on with springing Lilith from jail so they could all get to sleep.

“Since I don’t want to explain to Hertz why my car was impounded, I suppose I have no choice but to let you drive me to Hurricane Ridge.”

“With such a graceful acceptance, how could I possibly refuse?”

Raine ignored his sarcasm. “But first I need to call the hospital and check on Ida.”

“You can call from the truck. So, now that we’ve settled that, let’s get moving, Harvard. Your mother isn’t getting any younger. And neither am I.”

Raine wasn’t all that surprised that he knew where she’d gone to school. After all, Ida had always enjoyed bragging about her granddaughters accomplishments. Although he certainly didn’t seem at all impressed by her Ivy League credentials.

When he put his fingers around her waist and lifted her into the bucket seat of the Suburban, she had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being taken into custody. Because she wasn’t honestly certain she could have made it up there in her snug skirt and high heels, Raine didn’t object.

A call to the hospital revealed that since the doctors had decided her grandmother’s fall was merely a passing case of vertigo compounded by a rickety stool, Ida could be released in the morning. Her concern eased, Raine turned toward the three teenagers who were sitting as stiff and silent as stumps in the back seat of the Suburban, as if afraid they’d be thrown back into juvenile hall if they breathed a single word.

“Well, I suppose, since we’re going to be spending the next three days together, we should get acquainted. As you’ve undoubtedly figured out, I’m Raine.” She attempted a smile that didn’t quite work.

Still acting as spokesperson, Shawna introduced herself. Then the others. As she greeted them all, accepted their uncensored gratitude, and lied a little by professing to be pleased to meet them, Raine reluctantly decided that none of them looked all that dangerous.

Shawna was already a beauty. With her long swan’s neck and high cheekbones, she reminded Raine a bit of Tyra Banks. Her face was framed with a mass of beaded braids, her earlobes each adorned with three gold hoops.

Sixteen-year-old Gwen, with her wide eyes and freckled face surrounded by carrot-hued curls, resembled a pregnant Orphan Annie. Or, Raine thought, taking in the red-and-white boat-necked polka-dot top she was wearing over black leggings, Lucille Ball, just before she’d given birth to Little Rickie.