Catherine Cawood
The Weathered Heart of Calder Valley
Justice doesn't clock out. Neither do I.
I run the station like it's my second home, which it practically is. I've seen every shade of human mess this valley can throw up—drunks, thieves, broken hearts, dead ends. My face tells the story. Tired eyes, tight mouth, but I still laugh—dry and short. I lost my daughter, but I didn't fall apart. I raised her boy. I hunt her boy's father every damn day. I don't sleep much. I don't stop.
What I'm Into: Ryan's football games, tea strong enough to stand a spoon in, shouting at suspects, gravel car parks in the rain, the truth, ugly as it gets
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