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Sheriff Miller opens the back door of his vehicle and helps me inside. Once he is behind the wheel, he grips it with both hands.

“Damn it, Gracie.”

I stare at the back of his head. “Don’t you dare blame me.”

“Why did you slap him?”

“Because he grabbed my ass and squeezed it three damn times.”

“You should have walked away.”

“I have walked away. For years.”

He looks at me in the mirror.

One side of my face is already swelling. My lower lip is split, and blood stains my uniform.

“I saw the security cameras inside,” he says. “Do they work?”

“They did this morning.”

“Not anymore. Joe says the system malfunctioned.”

“Then take it before he destroys the recordings.”

“I sent a deputy to secure it.”

“Which deputy?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Let me guess. Carl Benson.”

The sheriff looks away.

Carl’s brother works for the mayor.

The recording will disappear before we reach the jail.

“I want to press charges against Bo.”

“Joe won’t file them.”

“Then call someone above him.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“What you can?” I lean forward until the seat belt locks across my chest. “You watched that man have me arrested while my face is swelling from where he punched me.”

“I didn’t see it happen.”

“Thirty people did.”

“And none of them are willing to give a statement.”

“Because they’re afraid!”

“I know.”