to her children, hitching the cuffs away, and walked them to her car. "It's going to be okay. Don't worry. This is just a big mix-up." She closed the door, locking it with the remote. She stormed past the social worker, who was glaring back with sleek, defiant eyes, and approached her mother, who was being eased into the back of a squad car.
"Honey!" Edie Dance exclaimed.
"Mom, what's--"
"You can't talk to the prisoner," Harper said.
She whirled and faced Harper, who was exactly her height. "Don't play games with me. What's this all about?"
He regarded her calmly. "She's being taken to the county lockup for processing and a bail hearing. She's been arrested and informed of her rights. I have no obligation to say anything to you."
The cameras continued to pick up every second of the drama.
Edie Dance called, "They said I killed Juan Millar!"
"Please be quiet, Mrs. Dance."
The agent raged at Harper, "That 'caseload evaluation'? It was just bullshit, right?"
Harper easily ignored her.
Dance's cell phone rang and she stepped aside to answer it. "Dad."
"Katie, I just got home and found the police here. State police. They're searching everything. Mrs. Kensington next door said they took away a couple of boxes of things."
"Dad, Mom's been arrested. . . ."
"What?"
"That mercy killing. Juan Millar."
"Oh, Katie."
"I'm taking the kids to Martine's, then meet me at the courthouse in Salinas. She's going to be booked and there'll be a bond hearing."
"Sure. I . . . I don't know what to do, honey." His voice broke.
It cut her deeply to hear her own father--normally unflappable and in control--sounding so helpless.
"We'll get it worked out," she said, trying to sound confident but feeling just as uncertain and confused as he would be. "I'll call later, Dad." They disconnected.
"Mom," she called through the car window, looking down at her mother's grim face. "It'll be all right. I'll see you at the courthouse."
The prosecutor said sternly, "Agent Dance, I don't want to remind you again. No talking to the prisoner."
She ignored Harper. "And don't say a word to anyone," she warned her mother.
"I hope we're not going to have a security problem here," the prosecutor said stiffly.
Dance glared back, silently defying him to make good on his threat, whatever it might be. Then she glanced at the CHP troopers nearby, one of whom she'd worked with. His eyes avoided hers. Everybody was in Harper's pocket on this one.
She turned and strode back toward her car, but diverted to the woman social worker.
Dance stood close. "Those children have cell phones. I'm number two on speed dial, right after nine-one-one. And I guarantee they told you I'm a law enforcement officer. Why the fuck didn't you call me?"
The woman blinked and reared back. "You can't talk to me that way."
"Why the fuck didn't you call?"