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The girl was in pain. That was clear to see as she winced and tried to pull her arm out of her father’s grip, and then she sobbed silently. She had been with the group of teenagers giving Red a hard time a few days before. She seemed familiar to me because of that day, but I felt fairly certain she didn’t live in Wisper, and the guy, her father if what he’d said was true, was a stranger to me. That didn’t mean they hadn’t moved into town recently, but if they had, I most likely would’ve heard about it somehow. We did get newcomers occasionally, but plenty of people lived off the grid or in remote places in Teton County, doing their best to avoid tourists and the busyness of Jackson Hole and Yellowstone. There was no way for me to know them all.

From this man’s old, well-worn clothing, the scuffed, well-used look of his boots, and the anger on his face, I thought he might’ve been one of the latter.

“Now.” I hadn’t yet raised my weapon, but I was about to.

My hand rested on the butt, and I adjusted my grip when the jackass looked away, just in case. My stance was all business—legs spread shoulder-width apart, chin tucked, shoulders low and relaxed—but adrenaline burned through my veins like fire.

The look in the guy’s eyes was… worrisome. He glanced at my gun, and then me, and then he barked a laugh. “Who’s gonna make me?”

Was he serious? My badge was in clear view, my uniform and shoulder radio couldn’t be mistaken for an odd fashion choice, and the gun now in my hands said everything I needed him to know. “Sheriff Lee, that’s who. You think this is a toy gun?” I asked. “Let go of her now, or I’ll shoot, and we can discuss this in the ER with your wrist handcuffed to your hospital bed.”

The asshole laughed again. “Like I’m scared of you, girl. You prolly can’t aim that pea shooter for shit. Now, this is family business. Mind your own.”

Pea shooter? It was a fucking Glock. My gun could rip a new asshole right through the middle of his chest.

Discharging a firearm without a good reason was a definite no-no, but I wanted to clip this dick’s ear just to get his attention. Unfortunately, that would only cause headaches and paperwork.

I had a feeling, though, that he was about to give me a reason.

“Deputy,” Red whispered low, “he’s armed.”

Yep, I’d already clocked that. It was the main reason there was a gun in my hand. Had he not been armed, I probably would’ve grabbed my Taser, but a pistol hung from a belt holster on the man’s hip under his unbuttoned plaid shirt.

The left chest pocket of his flannel had been ripped open, and I could see the pasty white skin of his elbow through the hole there too. The tank he wore beneath it, over his beer belly, was off-white and stained. I prayed silently that he wouldn’t touch his weapon. I prayed even harder he hadn’t been drinking or wasn’t the kind of person who would use that pistol on his daughter, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to use it on me or Red if he felt threatened enough.

“You okay, Red?” I whispered, but my eyes never left the man’s.

“I’m fine.”

The quiet sound of Red’s voice told me a great deal about the situation before I’d arrived. Red was old, but he was capable. He’d spent plenty of time in the woods. He knew how to handle himself, and he knew guns. He sold them, for shit’s sake. That he had been taken down by this man and had even a little bit of fear about the man hurting the girl told me I should have a healthy dose of fear too.

I did, but I also had a big ol’ dose of confidence. I knew how to handle men like this. I’d dealt with plenty in the past on the job. And I’d known one personally.

He used to be my dad.

“Last chance,” I said. “Let. Her. Go.”

He ignored me. “Get in the fuckin’ truck, Sylvie. I ain’t tellin’ you again.”

The girl shook her head quickly and tried to take a step away, but her father yanked again, and she yelped.

Tears poured from her eyes. “Daddy, please! You’re hurtin’ me.”

He just yanked again, and she tripped forward.

“Sir, I have asked you four times now. If you won’t let that girl go, I’m going to shoot. That’s a promise. She may be your daughter, but I don’t know that. I don’t know you. All I know is that you’re hurtin’ a child right now, and from my estimation, you’re the one who hurt this man”—I tipped my head toward Red beside me on the ground—“who I do know and who called 911. That’s enough cause right there, buddy. If I have to put you down, it won’t be sweat off my brow.”

Dammit. I didn’t really want to shoot this asshole, but he was twice my size and I was alone. Protocol dictated that Shelley had already called for backup, but they hadn’t arrived yet. It wouldn’t be long. I knew that, but if I waited…

If he hadn’t been holding onto a child, I might’ve chosen to tackle this jerk. I had a few tricks up my sleeve to subdue him, but I was afraid of what he might do. Clearly, hurting her wasn’t causing the guy any anxiety.

He laughed again, and disdain for a “girl” cop had him rolling his eyes as he yanked hard enough on his daughter’s arm that he might’ve pulled her shoulder out of the socket. She screamed and begged him to let her go as he turned toward an old, rusted-out Ford truck parked behind them. Sylvie dropped to the ground in agony, and her father released the grip he’d had on her wrist.

He laid his hand over his weapon.

That wasn’t his first mistake.

Sylvie’s eyes slid to mine. She was terrified. She didn’t think I had any chance against her bully of a father.