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“Can we come in and talk to you for a couple of minutes about your husband?”

“No. I don’t let anybody in when Chris ain’t home.”

“When will he be back?”

“He’s working. Won’t be back for a while yet.”

“Stealing horses?”

“Shut up. You don’t know nothing.”

She started to close the door in our faces, and I gave the door a good hard push and moved right inside. Mother Hubbard backed up a couple of steps and I moved forward a little more.

“Mrs. Hubbard, you are under arrest as an accessory to robbery and murder.”

“You can’t arrest me. I didn’t do nothing.” She ran across the kitchen, grabbed a shotgun off a rack on the wall and pivoted around pointing the gun at us.

“Down, Harlan.” I shoved him down as I dove at blondie and flattened her on the kitchen floor.

She pulled the trigger as I knocked her down and the buckshot sprayed and hit the far wall. The noise was deafening, and I barely heard the glass in the window shatter and fall.

I rolled blondie over, stuck a knee in her back and cuffed her. “Harlan, you okay?”

He jumped up from the floor with a grin on his face and brushed his clothes off. “Yep, I’m good.”

“Wrap the gun in a kitchen towel and carry it to the truck.”

I pulled blondie to her feet, holding onto the chain between the cuffs. “Let’s go.” I shoved Mrs. Hubbard ahead of me, through the door and out into the rain.

“Harlan, put the dogs and the gun in the hatch.”

While he did that, I secured Mrs. Hubbard in the back of the squad. She strung out a nice long line of curse words. Some I’d never heard before.

Harlan was smiling as he settled into the shotgun seat, but he had a bit of a pasty look to him. “You sure you’re okay?” I reached over and gave him a fist bump.

“Yeah, all good.”

“When we get to the station, I want you to give Molly your statement. It has to go in the report because you were there when Mrs. Hubbard tried to shoot us.”

“Freaky shit, Travis. She shot out her own fuckin window.” Harlan chuckled.

Sheriff’s Office. Coyote Creek.

I parked close to the back door of the station, so it wasn’t far to take Mrs. Hubbard in. Harlan let the dogs out of the hatch, and they went for a tear in the rain around the parking lot.

“Take the gun to Molly, Harlan. She’ll log it in and show you where the evidence locker is.”

“Am I supposed to saycopyorrogeror something?”

I laughed. “Say whatever you want.”

Harlan returned from the squad room and observed me booking Mrs. Hubbard—fingerprints, mug shot—and he seemed interested.

When that was done, I unlocked the run, took her inside and locked her up in the first cell.

Harlan walked down the length of the six cells and back again. “Wow, we got us our own fuckin jail.”

“Yep. We do. You get your statement done?”