MEL WATCHED FROM HER county SUV as her patrol sergeant, Joe Treadway, pounded on the frame of the steel and glass shop door. The sign hanging off the push bar on the inside was turned to the side that read, ‘closed’. There were no lights on inside and no vehicles parked in the dusty lot outside.
Her radio crackled to life. “Your warrants are a go, Sheriff,” the dispatcher told her.
She keyed the mike and responded, ‘Copy,’ then stepped out of the vehicle and called out to her deputies, “Break it down!”
Janet Mason came around the back of the Explorer, from the passenger side and appeared beside Mel. “Why didn’t we just break it down and go in before? She might be in there. We’d be justified.”
Mel bobbed her head a couple of times to acknowledge that she’d heard Mason, but her eyes were
