by Gary Corbin
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Also by Gary Corbin
A Woman of Valor
A ROOKIE POLICEWOMAN, who had been molested as a young girl, pursues a serial child molester–and struggles to control the anger his misdeeds awake in her. Can Valorie overcome the trauma she suffered as a child and stop this dangerous criminal from hurting others like her—or will her bottled-up anger lead her to take reckless risks that put the people she loves in greater danger?
ISBN: 978-0-9974967-9-6
Available in hardcover, paperback, audiobook, and all eBook formats at garycorbinwriting.com, and at your favorite local retailers.
Check the free sample chapter from this book below!
The Mountain Man’s Dog
In the small town of Clarkesville, in the heart of the Oregon Cascade Mountains, Lehigh Carter, a humble forester, stumbles into the complex world of crooked cops and power-hungry politicians...all because he rescues a stray, injured dog on the highway.
The Mountain Man’s Dog is a briskly told crime thriller loaded with equal parts suspense, romance, and light-hearted humor, pitting honor and loyalty against ruthless ambition and runaway greed in a town too small for anyone to get away with anything.
ISBN: 978-0-9974967-1-0
Available in hardcover, paperback, audiobook, and all eBook formats
at garycorbinwriting.com, and at your favorite local retailers.
The Mountain Man’s Bride
In this thrilling sequel to The Mountain Man’s Dog, the murder of popular Acting Sheriff Jared Barkley. The murder puts Lehigh and Stacy’s plans to marry on hold when Stacy is arrested for committing the crime.
But evidence of a secret affair makes even Lehigh wonder if he should fight for her freedom against the corrupt local machine that accused her.
ISBN: 978-0-9974967-3-4
Available in hardcover, paperback, audiobook, and all eBook formats
at garycorbinwriting.com, and at your favorite local retailers.
The Mountain Man’s Badge
Appointed to fill out the unexpired term of disgraced sheriff Buck Summers, mountain man Lehigh Carter investigates the murder of sleazy businessman Everett Downey, murdered in a forested area frequented by off-season hunters and poachers.
As the evidence mounts, pointing to Stacy’s father, George McBride, Lehigh battles the mistrust of the entire sheriff’s department as well as the District Attorney, the County Commission Chair and his own wife—until he finds shocking evidence of the killer’s true identity.
ISBN: 978-0-9974967-7-2
Available in hardcover, paperback, and all eBook formats at garycorbinwriting.com, and at your favorite local retailers.
Lying in Judgment
A man serves on the jury trying a man for the murder that he committed!
Peter Robertson, 33, discovers his wife is cheating on him. Following her suspected boyfriend one night, he erupts into a rage, beats him and leaves him to die...or so he thought. Soon he discovers that he has killed the wrong man—a perfect stranger.
Six months later, impaneled on a jury, he realizes that the murder being tried is the one he committed. After wrestling with his conscience, he works hard to convince the jury to acquit the accused man. But the prosecution's case is strong as the accused man had both motive and opportunity to commit the murder.
As jurors one by one declare their intention to convict, Peter's conscience eats away at him and he careens toward nervous breakdown.
Lying in Judgment is a courtroom thriller about a good man's search for redemption for his tragic, fatal mistake, pitted against society's search for justice.
ISBN: 978-06926426-8-9
Available in hardcover, paperback, audiobook, and all eBook formats
at garycorbinwriting.com, and at your favorite local retailers.
Lying in Vengeance
Two months after serving on the jury trying a man for the murder that he committed, Peter Robertson’s worst nightmare comes to fruition: Christine, his beautiful and charming fellow juror, knows his dark secret and uses it to blackmail him.
The price of her secrecy: Peter must kill again, this time to stop Kyle, the man who torments Christine and threatens her very existence.
Their sizzling nascent romance gets interrupted when Kyle kidnaps her. Peter’s daring rescue provides him the opportunity to commit the awful deed. Peter refuses, however, only to discover that his best friend Frankie may have committed the act in his place. Or was he framed?
Peter’s relentless search for evidence to clear his lifelong pal forces him to confront his demons and risk his own freedom—and his life—as he battles the ruthless, manipulative, and resourceful woman who always seems one step ahead and knows his every move.
ISBN: 978-0-9974967-5-8
Available in hardcover, paperback, audiobook, and all eBook formats
at garycorbinwriting.com, and at your favorite local retailers.
Forthcoming
A Better Part of Valor
The exciting sequel to A Woman of Valor
WHEN VALORIE DAWES discovers the body of a young girl who had also been sexually molested, Lt. Gibson assigns her to assist the detectives investigating the case. Then Clayton Mayor Megan Iverson, candidate for governor of Connecticut, ties her political fortunes to the case, vaulting herself into the lead in all of the major polls with her law-and-order campaign.
Iverson’s meddling in the case costs them dearly when key evidence disappears and other evidence, withheld for strategic reasons, gets leaked to the press. The pressure intensifies when a former campaign aide, Val’s childhood friend Amy, becomes the next victim.
Can Val find and stop the killer before he strikes again?
Expected release: Summer, 2020
Excerpt from A Woman of Valor
by Gary Corbin
Chapter 1
VALORIE DAWES TIPTOED to her roommate’s bedroom door. She could never be sure if Beth had company, or if she’d pulled an all-nighter to study for exams and wanted to sleep all day, or both. Usually, Beth left some sort of signal in their tiny common living space if she didn’t want Val to disturb her before 9:00 a.m. But during finals week, none of the usual rules applied, except one: waking her meant Val would have hell to pay.
She crept closer to the door, grimacing every time the old floorboards creaked, and listened. Nothing. Maybe Beth hadn’t even come home.
Val waited another moment, pressing her ear to the door. A soft buzzing sound seemed to emerge from within. Snoring, or perhaps her morning alarm. Maybe if she brought coffee—
The door swung open, and Val jerked back in a panic. The five-foot seven, pear-shaped figure of her lifelong friend appeared in the darkened doorway, her eyes bleary between tousled locks of brown hair.
“What are you doing there?” Beth asked, striding past her toward the kitchen in a pale-yellow bathrobe. “And please, tell me there’s caffeine. I’ve still got to cram for my Business Ethics final today.”
“Fresh, dark, and strong,” Val said, pausing for Beth’s stock reply.
“Like my men,” Beth said.
Val grinned with relief. Good old Beth.
Beth poured coffee into a tall ceramic mug and made a pouty face. “I hate that you’re finishing a semester early. I’ll never find a roommate as good as you.” She searched the fridge and dumped a pint of creamer into her mug. “Oh, thanks for getting groceries. Otherwise we’d have starved today.”
“I’ll be out of here by dinner,” Val said, “once I drop my application in the mail. I was hoping you’d look at it for me...?” She pointed to a stapled set of printouts on the kitchen table. “After you
’ve had your coffee, of course.”
“Dammit, Val, this makes me sad. It’s the end of an era.” Beth poured Val a mug of black coffee and they sat opposite each other at the table. They toasted each other with their mugs and took long sips of the tasty brew.
“It’s just a few months,” Val said. “We’ll be roomies again once we’re both back in Clayton. That’s still the plan, right?”
Beth’s gaze floated upward, over Val’s shoulder. “Good morning, gorgeous,” she said.
Val furrowed her eyebrows. What a curious thing to say. She started to reply, but something moved in her peripheral vision. No, not something. Someone. She turned, and the bare, muscular chest of a large, dark-haired man filled her vision. Close to her face. Close enough to smell his cheap cologne.
Cologne that brought her back to the worst day of her life—the day a man towered over her, dominated her, hurt her—
Val leaped out of her chair, hooked her right foot behind the dark-haired man’s left leg, and pushed him to the floor. She stepped over him and spun around, crouched in a jiu jitsu fighter’s stance, fingers curled and ready to strike.
“Val! What the hell?” Beth shouted, jumping to her feet. Her coffee had spilled all over her bathrobe, drenching her and the floor. “Geez, Rick, are you all right?”
Rick, who Val realized was Beth’s latest conquest, picked his tall, muscular frame off the floor and wiped coffee off of his face. He wore only a set of red boxer shorts and a goofy smile. “I’m fine,” he said, laughing. He glanced at Beth, then nodded to Val. “That’s quite the security team you’ve got there. You must be Valorie.” He opened his arms, reaching out to hug her. Val backed away.
“Val doesn’t hug, Rick,” Beth said. “Go put some clothes on.”
Rick planted a long, wet kiss on Beth’s lips, grinned at Val, and ambled back to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
“I’ve told you a thousand times, you need to warn me when you have guys over,” Val said. “Where’d you find this one?”
“Never mind. He’s temporary. Now, let me see this application.” She picked up the stapled pages and read while refilling her coffee. Val busied herself with cleaning up the spill.
“It looks great,” Beth said after a minute. “But Val, are you certain you want to do this? I mean, given what you’ve been through...”
“I’ve never wanted to do anything else,” she said. “You know that.”
“But why Clayton?” Beth sat down again. “With what happened to your uncle there, and to you—”
“That’s why it has to be Clayton,” Val said, tossing the soiled rag into the sink. “No place needs an infusion of justice more than our own hometown.”
“That’s what worries me.” Beth set the application down on the table, careful to avoid the wet spots, and rested her chin on her hands. “It feels like—and please, don’t take this the wrong way—maybe you’re not seeking justice so much as revenge. For your uncle, and the whole Milt incident.”
“Don’t say his name,” Val said, clenching her eyes shut. “And I’m fine. I’ve put all that behind me.”
“Are you sure?” Beth stood and circled the table, placing her hand on Val’s shoulder. “Val, what if your anger over your uncle’s death, and for what Milt did, drives you to...I mean, what if you get into tough situations with bad guys, and, you know...it doesn’t end well. For them, or for you.”
Beth squeezed Val’s shoulders and knelt to put her face level with Val’s. “I’m afraid for what could happen to you.”
“Nothing will happen to me,” Val said in a voice more forceful than she’d intended. “I’m not out to punish other men for what those scumbags did to my family. I just don’t want other scumbags doing it to other families, and to other thirteen-year-old girls. Or grown women. Or anyone.” She locked eyes with her friend, softening her tone. “I promise. I’ll be safe.”
Beth’s face crumpled into a sad smile. “I know you will.” She gazed into Val’s eyes for another moment, then looked away.
Val sighed. She might never convince her friend of how she felt. What unsettled her was that she hadn’t yet convinced herself yet, either.
VALORIE PAUSED OUTSIDE the open doorway of Lieutenant Laurence Gibson’s cramped office, a shaded-glass enclosure trimmed with dark wood and beige government-issue metal chairs, desk, and filing cabinets. Gibson’s bearlike figure seemed overly large for the room, and his dark brown skin, broad nose, bulbous eyes, and untamed salt-and-pepper hair exaggerated the effect.
“Come in, Ms. Dawes.”
Val shut the door. The breeze of its motion caused papers to flutter, pinned to the walls or stuck to the filing cabinets with refrigerator magnets. A quick perusal told her where Gibson preferred to get his coffee, pizza, and sub sandwiches, and, like everyone else in Clayton, Connecticut, he rooted for the Boston Red Sox and New England Patriots.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Lieutenant.”
Val sat in the worn, thinly padded metal framed guest chair. Gibson’s desk towered in front of her, resting on cylindrical risers to accommodate his massive frame. At five-six, one twenty-five, she felt like a kid in the principal’s office, rather than a 22-year-old who graduated a semester early from the University of Connecticut.
And that simply wouldn’t do.
She stood and extended her hand across the lieutenant’s enormous, cluttered desk, raising it uncomfortably high above the coffee cups and pencil holders stacked along its edge.
Gibson remained engrossed in a document pulled from a manila folder. Finally, he noticed her outstretched hand and took it briefly in his.
“Very impressive credentials.” Gibson peered over his pince-nez glasses. “Criminology degree from UConn, graduated cum laude. Outstanding entry exam. Your essay on community policing was first-rate. And you’re a bit of an athlete, aren’t you?”
Val allowed a tiny smile. “I ran track in high school and college. I also played soccer.”
“All-Metro midfielder in high school. Starter on the ACC championship team at UConn. More track ribbons than I could fit in this office. You’ve proved yourself a worthy competitor, Ms. Dawes.” He glanced at her again. “You’re a little small for a cop, but you’ve stayed in good shape. You should have no trouble passing the physical.”
“Thank you, sir.” Val blushed and held her breath. She should say more, but what? She had no idea. She kept her mouth shut.
He flipped through her application. “Have you ever shot a gun?”
She nodded. “My...uncle taught me.” Dammit. She hadn’t wanted his name to come up in this interview. But she smiled at the memory. Uncle Val’s gift of firearms training for her tenth birthday had infuriated her parents, but only endeared him to her more.
Gibson set the application on his desk and removed his glasses. “I’ll come straight to the point. The name Val Dawes carries a certain amount of, shall we say, respect around here.”
Val sat upright and rigid in her chair. “I’m not trading on my uncle’s repu—”
“You’d be crazy not to.” Gibson sat back in his chair. “Valentin Dawes was a good man and a great cop. One of the best. Some of that must have rubbed off on you.”
Val’s face darkened, and she stared down at her hands. “I want to be considered on my own merits, sir. On my credentials, not his.”
“We wouldn’t have it any other way.” Gibson put his glasses on and picked up her application again. “Your exam was among the best I’ve ever seen. Clearly you’ve prepared for this for some time.”
“It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, sir. Since I was a child.”
“Since your uncle—”
“Before that.”
Gibson’s eyes widened, and he gazed at her a moment. Val sat motionless in her chair, torn between regret over interrupting him and relief over derailing discussion of an emotional subject. Finally, Gibson gave her a closed-mouth smile and a curt nod. Good. He understood.
“As you may kn
ow,” he said, “we’re on a push to recruit more women and minority officers.”
She shifted in her chair, and it scraped the floor with a harsh, raspy noise. “I don’t want to be an affirmative-action hire. If I don’t out-compete the men—”
“You do. Don’t worry. That’s not the point.” Gibson pushed his glasses over the bridge of his nose. “Ms. Dawes, we have 335 sworn officers in the Clayton Police Department. Guess how many are female.”
She shook her head. “Twenty percent?”
“Ha! I wish.” He exhaled, the wind whistling through his teeth. “Less than thirty. Not percent. Total. That’s even worse than the national average, which is pitiful.” He sighed. “People say that police work is a man’s game, Dawes. It attracts people who are a little more aggressive, controlling, and confident in their physical abilities. More often than not, those people are men. And a lot of men around here want to keep it that way.”
“Do you?” The words escaped before she could stop them. “Um, I mean, do you, sir?”
“If I did, you wouldn’t be here.” He leaned back in his chair. “Unfortunately, the Neanderthals outnumber the ones who agree with me. And they can make life tough on a young woman, even one with your qualifications. But given your uncle’s legacy—well, let’s just say I’m hoping that slows them down a little.”
“So, are you saying...?”
Gibson smiled. “We’d like you to start at the academy on the first of next month. Can you do that?”
Val’s heart pounded, and she could not suppress a grin. “Yes, sir!”
“Very well.” He stood and offered his hand. “Welcome to the Clayton, Connecticut Police Department, Officer Cadet Dawes.”
