Page 46 of Chasing Justice
“What? Why?”
Maya now had her gun out of the holster. She could hear Juniper barking behind her. “I need you to step out of the vehicle. Take both hands, put them out the window and then open the door.”
“Okay, okay. You’re making a huge mistake,” the lady said, following instructions.
“No, I’m not. Now please, step out of the vehicle.”
Black leather cowboy boots decorated with silver and bling swung out. Maya was a little bit surprised. If this lady was involved with the Rays, she didn’t look like the usual type. She appeared to be trying to fit in by wearing the western style of clothing that the store downtown sold to tourists.
Maya handcuffed her. She needed to run the gun through dispatch. “I’m going to have you sit in the back of my vehicle until I get more information on the gun and on you,” she said.
The lady shrugged and continued to comply. “I don’t know anything about that gun.”
“I still need to run the number.”
Maya put her in the back and closed the door. Juniper whined and continued to turn circles. Maya would have loved to have Juniper search the vehicle, but that couldn’t happen until they passed certification. However, the gun gave her an opening to look through the truck until dispatch got back to her.
Maya radioed in the information and then searched more of the glove box. There was nothing more than the gun and paperwork. Some old dirty napkins from the local burger joint were on the floor, but nothing that seemed to connect this vehicle with Doug’s death or running drugs.
“FS 28,” Maya heard from dispatch.
“This is FS 28.”
“The gun you asked us about is stolen.”
“Okay,” Maya said. She radioed that she would be arresting the person and then shut the door to the truck. She hadn’t found anything out of the ordinary in the vehicle, but sometimes on the drive to jail people talked. Maya couldn’t question her, but she could listen.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Maya arrived at the sheriff’s office, which also housed a small jail. Inmates would wait there until they could get a hearing with a judge that came up once a week. Other than telling Maya to call her “Bobbi,” Roberta Lind hadn’t said a word the entire drive. Maya was disappointed.
She opened the back door for Bobbi and escorted her to the back of the building. She handed her over to the jail deputy on duty. Josh was waiting for Maya. “She had a stolen gun in her truck. It was the truck, Josh.”
“Did you find anything that ties her to the drug lab?”
“No.” Maya shook her head, frustrated. “But maybe we can hold her on the gun charge and get some information from her. See what she knows. Let’s call my grandfather and see what he wants to do. The sheriff’s office can help with this.”
Concern crossed Josh’s face. Maya tilted her head to the side, sizing up his expression.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Sit down,” Josh said.
“I don’t want to.”
“Please?”
Maya wanted to resist. People only asked you to sit when something bad happened. She plopped down in the hard-plastic chair. “There, are you happy? Now what’s wrong?”
“We can’t reach your grandfather.”
“It’s his day off. He might be out hiking or fishing. Or riding...”
“Maya.” Josh cut her off.
“What?”
“Just shut up and let me talk for a minute. We sent some deputies out to your grandfather’s house. Even on a day off, he always keeps a cell phone or radio on him in case we need him.”
