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Tolifson directed them into a conference room, big enough for just about as many people as their party made up. They found seats in mismatched chairs. On the floor were dusty boxes of file folders and stacks of documents without cardboard homes. In the corner was an ancient minifridge, whose hum suggested it still worked, and on a counter a coffee maker that had clearly surrendered long ago.

Debi Starr smiled a greeting, though it was a harried offering. She’d been poring over notes in scrawly handwriting and making tick marks next to some entries.

Tolifson sat at the head of the table and said to Dorion, “Maybe your associate could join us.”

“Of course.” She pulled out her phone and dialed a number. A moment later the screen morphed into a FaceTime call.

Eduardo Gutiérrez, in a blue robe, was peering into the camera from a green-and-beige hospital corridor.

“Ed. We’re with Colter and a few others, including the entire police force of Hinowah.” She slowly panned the camera.

“How are you, sir?” Tolifson asked.

“They’re making me walk. Asking nicely, but still.”

“Your shooter’s gone,” Dorion said. “He’s probably in the same hospital you are. But in the basement. In a bag. Want to meet the SWAT officer who took him out?”

“You bet I do.”

She swung the phone to her mother.

Gutiérrez gave a laugh. “Mary Dove!”

“Eduardo.”

“You’re the one who…”

She nodded.

“Well, thank you for serving the writ of habeas corpus.”

The term literally meant “producing the body,” though it referred to alivingone, pursuant to a legal proceeding.

Tolifson opened a file and skimmed it, nodding. Then he looked up. “I need to brief the CHP and County Sheriff Barrett. He’ll be taking over. So…” He put his hands flat on the table. “First of all, I’ll need AB Fifteen oh sixes from everybody who fired a weapon today.”

Colter noted Starr hesitating. She frowned and pressed her lips together, about to speak. He sensed something delicate was coming. She cleared her throat and said, “Actually, Mayor, that form applies only to law enforcement. So TC and I are the only ones who need to file one.”

A blink. “That’s what I meant. I’ll needstatementsfrom the civilians.”

Dorion said, “We’ll get those done, Mayor.”

He lifted a pen over a yellow pad. “Now, any leads on who hired them?”

Colter said, “Only that they’re probably local.”

A frown. “How’d you figure that out?”

Without looking up from her notes, Starr said, “I’m just thinking: Because the feud between Annie Coyne and Gerard Redding was part of the scenario they concocted. Doubt anybody outside Olechu County would know a thing about it.”

“Sure. Makes sense. But local…who?”

Marissa Fell stepped into the room, then handed out sheets of paper. “Their IDs. From prints and facial rec in NCIC, Sacramento, San Francisco and Oakland.”

She had done a comprehensive summary of each perp.

If Tolifson ended up police chief, she’d be key in helping save his ass when it needed saving.

Which Colter suspected would be frequently, at least during the first year.