CHAPTER 1

Sundays were created for romance.

The flavour of strawberry wine, Sarah, and the perfume of lilacs.

Oh, Sarah, his spouse. John, the sheriff, felt a smile tug at his mouth. But a little moment later, the present's heartbreaking reality interrupted his daydream. His heart was wounded by painful recollections.

Sarah would phone them when they were teenagers and say, "It's Sunday afternoon. Where have you been?". In college, it had been the same. "Today is Sunday. In an hour, I'll meet with you". Those afternoons had been their special time when they both joined the police force and worked a beat in Austin. But that's over. He lost his Sarah five years ago. Heavier than a two thousand pound bull, the weight on his chest pressed down. No air. Zero breaths. only suffering.

He finally took a breath and enjoyed the surge of air. But he also cursed it. He needed the nostalgia. They kept him going.. They kept him in good shape. Even though time had gone, John continued to live each day as it came, but the suffering persisted. It kept getting deeper.

Blinking against the bright June sun, he slipped on his sunglasses and strolled to his patrol car at the courthouse. Now his Sunday afternoons were made for fishing with his eight year old daughter, Alice. He'd moved from Austin to his small home town to raise their child alone, in a safe environment. The way Sarah would have wanted.

With a sigh, John slid into his car. His daughter was waiting. Backing out, he waved at Walter Poole, who owned the auto-parts store. Walter was opening up for the afternoon trade.

Horseshoe, Texas, was much the same as it had been when John was a kid. An old two-story limestone courthouse, yellowing and graying in spots from age, sat in the center of a town square that happened to be in the shape of a horseshoe. Gnarled oaks and blooming red crepe myrtles gave the old structure a touch of beauty.

The weathered brick and mortar storefronts that surrounded the square were still the same, too. Some had been boarded up- the old furniture store, the fabric shop and the Perry Brothers' Five and Dime. The casualties of a changing America.

But new businesses had opened, including Miss Kittie's Tea Room, Carl's Antiques, Mama Jo's Candle Shop and a dollar store. The old General Zao family bakery was still on the corner. For five generations it had kept going strong, and probably would for years to come.

Horseshoe was the epitome of small-town America, its citizens upholding strong family values. It was a place where friendly neighbours helped each other. That had been the main reason John had chosen to come home- to heal while finding a way to live again. For Alice.

He had to hurry because his daughter was not patient. First he had to go to the bait stand on the highway. As he reached Texas Highway 77, which ran on the outskirts of Horseshoe, a red convertible sports car zoomed by, barely missing Mrs. Chloe Abbott as she crossed the highway from her son's fruit-and-vegetable shop.

Chloe unsuccessfully waved her walking cane at the automobile. When she finally spotted John, she used her cane to indicate where the automobile had driven off.

John indicated that he had observed everything by tipping his hat. He yelled after the speeder while turning on his siren. The blond hair blowing in the breeze caught his attention initially. The woman's failure to react to the siren came next. She kept accelerating.

The speed limit through the commercial district was fifty-five, but he observed her traveling eighty-five. This woman was moving quite quickly. As the siren blasted through the leisurely afternoon, John continued to follow her, but she made no attempt to halt.

Because Texas 77 only had two lanes, he was unable to avoid her due to oncoming traffic. He picked up his radio to call the highway patrol as they approached the county line. Someone had to stop the woman before she caused an accident

She had to slow down as an eighteen-wheeler suddenly arrived in front of them. As the oncoming traffic passed, John turned off the radio and sped into the left lane before she could react. He signalled for her to stop.

He was unable to see her eyes because of her enormous sunglasses, but she had an angry pout on her pink lips. Once more, she didn't try to stop. He gestured once more, this time more firmly, and he questioned whether she might be under the influence of drugs and not be aware of what was going on. No one had the conceit or stupidity to openly challenge a law enforcement official.

The woman and the large truck finally pulled into the grassy shoulder while the driver of the 18-wheeler slowed to a crawl. John exhaled happily. He got out of his car and she was trapped, unable to go quickly.

Although he turned off the siren, he left the blinking lights on to warn oncoming traffic to slow down. He quickly dialled his office and asked Stuart, his deputy, to check the license plate number. John suspected that the car might have been stolen because the woman refused to stop. He got out of the patrol car after taking his ticket book out of the glove box. He moved swiftly toward her, his teeth tight. He was furious with her for breaking the law. She had little care for other people's safety, which infuriated him. And he was furious because his Sunday afternoon was ruined.

John took off his sunglasses and sewed them to the pocket of his shirt. He walked up to her car, reached inside, shut off the motor, and took the keys out, stuffing them into the pocket of his khaki slacks. He then made a motion for the truck's driver to continue.

In a swirl of diesel fumes, the driver waved out the window before carefully pulling onto the highway. Drivers of passing vehicles rubbernecked to get a better peek.

The woman raised her spectacles to the top of her head and took out an earphone. She gave him a glare. He recognised the look of someone who has taken drugs because of her clear, icy-blue eyes. Additionally, they appeared to have been swollen and red from sobbing. That would not convince him. It was never permitted to speed in his county. He had his own opinions regarding speeders, but he made an effort to keep them from impairing his judgment.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked with a get-out-of-my-face attitude. "Give me back my keys".

"Please let me see your registration and license"

"How come?" Her long, knotted hair was flipped back.

"You were driving far faster than the speed limit in a commercial area and you didn't even try to slow down when you heard the siren".

"Business?" She cast a quick glance about at the cornfields that were cultivated on either side of the road. "What business?"

His thumb was crossed across his shoulder. "Horseshoe, Texas. While traveling at 85 mph, you crossed the town's edge and just missed Mrs. Abbott".

"I didn't see any town, or whoever you're talking about."

"Please show me your license and insurance." She had worn him out with her attitude.

Alice was holding out.

She flung a hand to the passenger seat and grabbed a dark tan pocketbook with red trim and Fs all over it, despite the tiny lines that started to develop on her smooth forehead. She combed through the items inside and discovered her wallet. It matched the purse exactly. Then he realised that was really pricey.

"I'm not taking it out," she stated as she handed it to him. To fit into the little slot was too difficult. He tightened his jaw even more, but he didn't attempt to grab the wallet. This woman has a double dosage of haughtiness. "Please take it away."

She appeared to be pondering the request as her eyes shrank to blue slits. She gasped and fiddled with the wallet until the license was revealed. He observed her extreme caution not to snap a long, barely pink fingernail.

She gave him the license, and he looked up the name. Austin, Texas resident Charlotte Lily, age of twenty-eight. enough age to understand better. "Your insurance, if you would."

"Officer." Her eyes were glittering with a sparkle he was familiar with as she turned to face him completely. She was going to try to use every female trick in her toolbox to sooth him.

She said, "Sheriff," and he corrected her.

She spoke the word "Sheriff" like a sweet-cherry lollipops. He was so close to tasting what she had intended. "I honestly have no idea regarding the car's insurance or registration. All of that is handled by my mum. If that's what you're concerned about, the automobile is mine and insured". Most men would have been rendered helpless by the warm glow emanating from behind her lashes, but not him.

He wanted to get this over with so he could get going, "Why don't you try the glove compartment?"

'I'm really in a hurry."

"So am I."

She gave him a brief glance before slowly and provocatively sliding her tongue over her lower lip, cranking up the glow in her eyes to the sucker setting on her male-radar screen.

"I must leave immediately for Dallas." Slowly, she scanned his chest and shoulders. "I know you understand, and you're a big, strong man," she said.

He replied, "Please, insurance." The radiance decreased. She abruptly flipped her hair back and glanced down at the wallet sitting on her lap. She presented him with a $100 bill and waved it in his direction. "Will the issue be resolved as a result? I didn't see your little stop in the road or hear your siren. I was listening to Bon Jovi. You understand, don't you?"

Whatever patience he had was burned by shock. His face began to twitch in a frown. "Are you buying my favour?"

Her eyes flickered. "Of course not. It's a compromise. I'll leave after you collect the money. That will make us both happy."

Stupid woman! Why did she need to make things so challenging? Now his Sunday afternoon was lost forever. This woman was about to receive one hell of a surprise. He opened her car door after taking the cash and putting it in his shirt pocket. "Get out of the vehicle, please."

"What?" Her tone was likened to that of an irate child. "You took my money."

"For evidence. You are being detained for speeding and attempting to bribe a law enforcement official. Now get out of the vehicle."

"You cannot do this." She spat the words, her face set. And she remained still.

"Exit the vehicle." In tune with his emotions, he spoke. Determined. Angry. And completely impatient.

She slid out with a locked-in look of petulance. She was incredibly attractive. She was put together on a Sunday morning when God was in a good mood, as his father would say, angels were singing in the background and atmosphere. A natural beauty for sure, but one that had been kept up well. He briefly considered the big city, class, and style. Her slender, curvaceous frame reached his shoulders. He was unsure of the significance of what he was observing. She was simply another woman, and an extremely haughty one at that.

He then noticed that she was donning a silky silver garment that resembled a bridesmaid dress. She appeared to be traveling to a wedding. He deliberately refrained from glancing at the alluring cleavage that was visible above the bodice. Her ankles were encircled by the garment's fluttering hem. It's a dress Alice would describe as frou-frou.

She stomped her foot and asked, "Do you know who my mother is?"

His thoughts were pierced by her bold remarks. "No. Can't say that I do?".

"She works for the governor of Texas, and she'll have your badge for this."

Eye contact was made. He was inclined to be lenient five minutes ago. He no longer desired to hear her justifications. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in court. You have the right to remain silent. You are entitled to---"

"You bastard." Her hot words burned her cheeks and made her flawless features tighten.

He gave her a fleeting glance and continued her fleeting glance. When he was done, he questioned her, "Do you understand your rights?", to which she responded, "Do you understand my mother will have your job?"

After swallowing an expletive, he hid his ticket book under one arm. He motioned her in the direction of his squad car with a gentle prod. The question.

"What are you doing?" In an effort to glimpse his face, she slipped. He opened the back seat door while lowering his cap. "Get in."

"I won't". Her warning warning eyes flared. "Just write me a ticket, and I'll be on my way."

Despite the loud traffic, he could hear every word. "If you hadn't tried to bribe me, I might have agreed to do that. I don't take that offense lightly, this is serious. Now get in the vehicle."

They were standing there looking at each other like two enemies who were about to engage in combat as the scorching Texas sun sent waves of suffocating heat rolling off the asphalt. He had decided what to do. He was not going to compromise. This woman required a reality check.

She protruded her chin. "I have a right to call my mother, you big obnoxious oaf."

"You can call anybody you want when we get to the jail, but not in this area." The heat and exhaust fumes from the passing cars continued to billow about them.

"Jail!" He noticed the first glimmer of fear on her face. However, it was just momentary. It was rapidly eclipsed by anger. "I'm not getting into that car!"

With someone like Charlotte Lily, he understood there was only one way to handle them, and that was to make sure she knew he meant business. The handcuffs came off of his waist.

"You're not..." She moved backward one step.

He grabbed her hand and quickly cuffed her thin wrist. She had satin-soft skin. Since a long time ago, he hadn't touched skin in that way. He quickly rejected the feeling. He was a master at hiding his feelings. "Yes. You are in handcuffs."

Both wrists were fastened in the cuffs before she could respond. "We can choose to handle this in an easy or difficult manner, as the expression goes. Evidently, you like the difficult route." He positioned her toward the open door by taking her arm. She jerked away from him, her eyes burning. "Don't you dare touch me, bastard. You scumbag rural bumpkin. You'll pay for this!" She lowered her skirt to display thin ankles in high heels as she cursed at him in a voice fierce enough to burn water. She then slid into the car. He shut the door on her tirade, threw his book on the seat, and went back to her car.

There, he picked up her pocketbook, iPod, and a tiny overnight bag off the floor and went inside. He could smell the sweet perfume of gardenias in the white leather upholstery of the car. Gardenias? He wouldn't identify that aroma with the fiery hellcat. I thought about something more exotic, like Chanel or Opium.

Why, therefore, did he think that? He had no romantic feelings for the woman.

After searching the car for additional valuables, he came to his car empty-handed. Her belongings were put on the passenger side of the car as he got into the driver's seat.

She spoke to him through the steel-mesh guard separating the back seat from the front, "You can't leave my car out here."

"I don't intend to.", he replied picking up his cell and punching a number. "Bubba, over on the north-east highway, there's a red Lexus coupe. We're impounded it, so could you please pick it up."

"Wow, what a costly vehicle. Did you bust a drug trafficker?" Bubba enquired with his customary excessive curiosity.

John groaned. "Just look after the car. Later, I'll get back to you."

"Of course, Sheriff." One of the General Zao's family members, Bubba owned a petrol station and wrecker business in Horseshoe. Although Bubba had made multiple attempts to become a deputy, his six-foot-four-inch body weight of more than three hundred pounds prevented him from passing the physical. He stayed at his grandmother's bakery for too long. He did, however, pitch in when John needed someone to keep an eye on the workplace.

John was fine with the silence that permeated the taxi. He'd had all of her mouth if he wanted. He set his spectacles down on the dashboard and looked at his watch. He arrived late. Alice would calling. Oh, dear!

Charlotte Lily is to blame for wrecking his Sunday.