Chapter Twenty-Three

Once upon a time, Kate Morgan was sane.

Unfortunately, the times had changed and this morning Natalie was left holding the bag—the bag containing a half-gallon of melting mint chocolate chip ice cream for the pregnant nutter. Meanwhile, she stood outside a grocery store in a rusty old mining town waiting for Crazy Kate to pick her up so they could chase down a serial killer.

How had it come to this?

At least the weather was nice today.

Hey, who invited Polly Positive to the party?

Like a storm in the desert …

Enough with the John Denver songs!

Where in the hell was Kate?

As if on cue, Kate’s Volvo raced up to the sidewalk, scaring a couple of teens who were texting while crossing in front of the store.

Kate’s window rolled down. “Hurry up, Natalie! He’s leaving the lot.”

Ah, hell. They were really going to do this.

“Balls!” Natalie shouted and shook her fist at the blue sky, and then she raced around the front of the car.

Kate didn’t even give her time to shut her door before stomping on the gas pedal. She took a right out of the lot and gunned it, rolling through a stop sign.

“You’re going to get a ticket if you’re not careful,” Natalie said, gripping the dashboard.

“You sound like an old woman.”

Natalie glared at Kate. The wind rushing in through the driver’s side window was blowing her cousin’s hair every which way. Oh, how the sane and rational do fall. “Listen, Crazy Kate, I don’t want to die before I get to have sex with Coop. I’ve been waiting a long time for that man.”

“You should have followed him to his camper last night then.” Kate shot her a glare. “And don’t call me crazy!”

Natalie held up her hands. “Whoa! Okay, sorry, but your left eye is twitching faster than a rabbit’s nose after snorting cocaine, and you’re chasing down a guy who you think is a serial killer with what to capture him? Your enchanting wit?”

Enough was enough. Natalie pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

“What are you doing with that?” Kate rolled through another stop sign.

“I’m going to call Claire and tell her to come get us, because at this rate we’re going to end up in Grady’s jail cell again.”

Kate snatched Natalie’s phone away from her.

“Hey! Give that back to me.”

Kate threw the phone out her open window while blowing through a third stop sign.

“What the hell!” Natalie turned in her seat, frowning out the back window at the sight of her cellphone lying in the middle of the road. Before she could sputter out another word, a huge pickup with a jacked-up suspension and meaty tires rolled over it.

She whirled on her cousin. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Me? What’s wrong with you? Have you lost your nerve? We have the killer right in front of us and you’re going to call and tattle to Claire.”

“I … you … this is so screwed up.” She looked backward again. The stupid monster-truck-wannabe was riding on Kate’s ass. “That phone wasn’t cheap.”

“Phones are replaceable. My sisters aren’t. We’re going to stop this bastard before he hurts anyone else.” Kate glanced in the rearview mirror, doing a double take. “Damn it to Betsy!”

“What now?” Natalie faced fully forward, keeping her eyes on the SUV Kate was tailing.

The killer ran the upcoming stop sign and gunned it, putting distance between them. He must have figured out he was being tailed.

“Deputy Dipshit,” Kate said.

“What about him?”

“He’s driving that asinine, cave troll–sized penis-inflator behind me.”

“Good. Let him go catch the diamond killer.”

“Ernie is as useless as a screen door on a submarine.”

“And what are we? You can’t ram that guy with your car, Kate.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re pregnant!”

“Shoot, that’s right.”

The pickup sped up and pulled alongside the left of them. The horn blared. “Stop the car, Morgan!” the deputy yelled out his passenger window. Although he was too high up for Natalie to see him.

Kate flipped him off in reply and hit the gas, racing ahead.

“Christ!” Natalie grabbed the oh-shit handle above her door as Kate raced through another stop sign without even slowing down. “We’re going to die today,” she said. “My parents are going to be so mad at you for killing me, Kate.”

“Relax. We’re not going to die.” She glared in the rearview mirror. “Though I may seriously maim Deputy Dipshit for screwing up our posse chase.”

The SUV in front of them locked up the brakes and took a hard left. The vehicle skidded around the turn.

“Damn it!” Kate said. “He’s definitely on to us.”

“You think? Or maybe he’s trying to get out of the way of the two crazy drivers flying up behind him!”

“I’M NOT CRAZY!” Kate screeched while swerving to the left to cut off Deputy Dipshit as he tried to ride up beside them again.

The big truck came up on their right side instead. “You’re under arrest, Kate Morgan!” he yelled out his window.

Kate rolled down Natalie’s window. “You’re not on duty, Ernie! So shove your stupid arrest up your dumb ass! We’re chasing a killer, damn it!”

“Pull over now!” The deputy’s face was beet red as he glared down at them from his perch up high. Natalie wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam puffing out his ears at that moment.

Kate rolled up Natalie’s window and punched the traction control system button. “Hold on,” she said as she flew past the road the SUV had turned down. “I saw James Garner do this on The Rockford Files.”

Natalie gawked at Kate. She searched for her tongue and found it hiding behind her tonsils. “What are you going to do?”

“Lose this asshole.” Kate hit the brakes hard, coming to a complete stop in the middle of the road.

Deputy Dipshit swerved, laying on his horn, and shot past them.

Kate shifted into reverse, watching over her shoulder, and gunned it for a couple of seconds.

“Please tell me you’re not going to try a Rockford,” Natalie said.

“Not try.” Kate lifted her foot off the gas, whipping the steering wheel counterclockwise. “Do!”

“Fuck!” Natalie yelled, holding on for dear life as the car spun around in the middle of the road.

Halfway around, Kate shifted back into drive. As soon as the car finished spinning, she turned the wheel the other way and hit the gas, heading back the way they’d come. Then she turned down the road the SUV had taken, returning to the chase.

Natalie held her hand over her heart, making sure the poor thing hadn’t flown out the window in the middle of that J-turn. The smell of burning rubber filled the car. “When did you learn how to do that?”

“I told you, I saw Jim Rockford do it years ago on the old TV show and then asked Gramps to show me how. He took me out on a back road in the hills and taught me how to do it with Grandma’s old sedan.”

Dear Lord! Kate wasn’t just crazy. She was certifiably, grade-A, stark raving mad. “You’re pregnant!”

“That was nothing. I’ve hit higher Gs rushing around the store with a shopping cart.”

“Kate, I’m too old for this sh—”

“There he goes!” She made another hard left, sending Natalie slamming into her door. “I’m going to cut him off.”

“What? How?”

“I know a shortcut.” Two tire-skidding turns later, Kate turned into a narrow alley with brick buildings on both sides and slammed on her brakes.

The SUV was coming toward them, playing chicken.

“Please stop, please stop, please stop,” Natalie chanted.

The SUV slid to a stop.

“Oh, thank the Maker!”

The driver laid on the horn. Behind him, Deputy Dipshit ramrodded into the alley, blocking the SUV from the other direction.

“We got him!” Kate shifted into park. She grabbed the Taser she’d used on Harvey from her purse, shoved it in the back of her yoga pants, and pushed open her door.

“What are you doing?” Natalie grabbed Kate’s arm.

“He’s trapped. I need to hit the killer with some volts before he makes a run for it.” Kate pulled free and stormed away.

Natalie sat for a second, her pulse still racing from the chase. Now what?

“Son of a bitch!” She shoved open her door and followed her pregnant cousin into battle.

* * *

Ronnie leaned against the sheriff’s truck, watching over the hood as Grady conferred with the fire marshal about the blackened Winnebago carcass.

Grady couldn’t have gotten more than a blink or two of sleep, although his uniform looked crisp enough and his posture had no slouch to be seen. She was often amazed at his ability to work long, long hours without showing his exhaustion to the world. She, on the other hand, had given up last night, crashing on Gramps’s and Ruby’s bed after Grady told her he’d be another hour tying up loose ends.

After a quick shower to rinse off the smell of burning Winnebago, Ronnie had slept like the dead. This morning, she’d called Katie before she left home and requested her sister bring her red flare pants and black long-sleeve tunic for Ronnie to borrow for the day. Unfortunately, she had to borrow a pair of underwear and a bra from Claire, neither of which fit her quite right. Or maybe it was the knowledge that she had to come clean with Grady that had her squirming in her sisters’ clothes.

While she was getting dressed, Grady had stopped by the General Store to see if Ronnie was around. He’d left a message with Jessica to come find him at the fire scene.

And so here Ronnie stood. His beck-and-call girl.

She stared across the drive at his backside view—long legs, nice ass, narrow waist, strong back, and broad shoulders. He was built to carry the weight of the county’s worries. She hated to add to that load, but she needed to spill a few secrets now that Gramps’s Winnebago had been added to the growing list of fatalities in the sheriff’s jurisdiction.

Grady looked around, as if he could sense her stare. He tipped his hat upon seeing her, his face softening into a small smile. Then the fire marshal showed him something on his red clipboard and Grady’s smile faded.

This fire was meant for her. Ronnie was ninety-nine percent sure of it, especially after the note Claire had found yesterday on the RV’s windshield.

They should have told Grady about that note, but he’d been working a double shift yesterday. And then the whole Lyle mess had blown up in Ronnie’s face, knocking her off course.

She sighed, scanning the RV park. So much could have gone wrong last night. This was her fault. If she weren’t here, the Winnebago would still be in one piece and Claire wouldn’t be next up on a hit man’s list.

She ran her hands through her hair, tired of the guilt gorilla beating her down day after day. She needed to flip things around and get the upper hand on this shit, take back her life.

How many times had she thought that lately?

Too many to count. Cripes!

The problem was, she wasn’t sure exactly what life she needed to take back. She had been Lyle’s high-society wife before coming down to Arizona. Before that, she’d been her mother’s puppet, doing everything she was told to do in order to find the “perfect” husband.

Truth be told, Ronnie wasn’t sure who she really was anymore. Claire had accused her of returning to her old ways, dressing to please others, adjusting her behavior to fit a perceived mold. And she was right. But how did a tiger change her stripes this late in the game?

Ronnie supposed she could start her journey of self-discovery by focusing on the one part of her life she was sure about in her heart—her family. They knew her true character and accepted her, warts and all. Well, maybe not her mother, but there’d be no moving that mountain anytime soon.

Thinking about her family made her think about Grady’s family. She cringed. What if they didn’t like her? What if they thought she wasn’t good enough for Grady? What if …

“Veronica.” Grady’s gruff voice interrupted her worries. He joined her at his truck. “How are you doing?” He leaned down and gave her a full, lip-savoring kiss.

“Grady, you’re on the clock,” she chastised, her cheeks warming. What was he doing, kissing her like that in broad daylight? She nudged her chin toward the fire marshal. “Not to mention you have company.”

“Buster knows we’re dating.”

“The fire marshal’s name is Buster?”

Grady nodded. “His grandparents raised him. His real name is Ben, but they were big Buster Keaton fans. The nickname they gave him stuck.”

“How does Buster know we’re dating?” And why would the fire marshal care about Grady’s romantic life?

With a shrug, Grady explained, “Most of the town knows it, and those who don’t are too busy with their own lives to give a damn.”

He tugged on her sleeve. “You didn’t answer me, babe. How are you doing?”

“I’m worried, same as before. This was a direct hit.”

One side of his face creased. “We don’t know that.”

“What are the chances of the Winnebago where I usually sleep catching on fire out of the blue?”

“You usually sleep with me now,” he reminded her.

“Officially, though, that burned-up mess was my home.” Where was she going to store her stuff now? Where would she sleep on the nights she didn’t stay in Grady’s bed? Chester had offered her his couch, and while she liked the ornery old goat, that was a little too much of Chester in her daily life.

Then again, what stuff did she need to store? Most of her belongings had burned up in the fire. She was back to square one—homeless and hard up, only this time she didn’t have any jewelry to pawn.

“Let’s wait to see what Buster figures out before jumping to any conclusions,” Grady said, leaning against the front fender.

She frowned toward the charred remains of the camper. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

He turned her chin back in his direction. “Does it have anything to do with my sister canvassing Yuccaville, asking business owners to be on the lookout for a guy with a limp?”

She winced. “For the record, that wasn’t my idea.”

“Let me guess, it was Kate’s?”

“And Penny’s.”

“And what about Aunt Millie and her knitting cronies? How did they get pulled into this?”

Man, he knew everything.

Of course he did. That was his job.

“Millie volunteered. You know how helpful she is.”

“I know how much she likes to start trouble.”

She shifted under his stare. “I would have told you.”

“When?”

“Eventually.” She twisted her fingers together. “What I really need to tell you about is another situation.”

“Something to do with this?” He thumbed behind him.

She nodded. From the waistband of her pants, she pulled out the two letters that had been left on the Winnebago’s windshield and handed them to him.

He opened one and then the other, the lines on his forehead doubling as he read. “Where did these come from?”

“They were under the Winnebago’s windshield wiper.”

“When?” After she gave him the dates, his scowl deepened further.

“The first one spurred us to form the Prickly Pear Posse.”

His head tipped slightly. “The what?”

She went on to explain what they’d been up to behind his back, hugging her arms to her chest as his expression grew more and more stormy.

“Goddamn it, Veronica. When are you going to learn to trust me?”

“I do trust you.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t have formed this posse behind my back.”

She raised her chin, standing tall in the face of his thunder and lightning. “The reason for establishing our posse wasn’t due to a lack of trust in your abilities, Sheriff. We did it to form a solid front.” When he started to speak, she held up her hand. “You can’t be everywhere at once, Grady. You’re only human.”

“This is a matter for the law to handle.”

Her laugh was short and harsh. “If the last year has taught me anything, it’s that life does not abide by rules and regulations. Shit happens. Messy shit. Protectors come in all shapes, badge-wearing or not.”

He growled, dragging his hand down his face. “You can’t just go forming a posse on a whim.”

“That’s not technically correct. According to Arizona state law, a sheriff can request the aid of a volunteer posse.”

His mouth tightened.

“A sheriff can also authorize the posse members to carry firearms,” she continued.

“If and only if they have received proper training,” he finished for her. “Trust me. I know the law. However, I have neither requested nor authorized a posse.”

She shrugged. “Just because you haven’t officially requested one doesn’t mean we can’t form a posse and have it at the ready in case you need us.”

He looked over her shoulder, his face rugged and stony. “Damn it. Penny is right.”

His sister? “About what?”

His amber gaze returned to her. There was no anger in his eyes this time. Nor any frustration. Something else hovered there. Something bright and warm that made her heart swell. “I’ve met my match in you, Veronica Morgan.”

She couldn’t hold back her smile. After the last few days of angst and humiliation and uncertainty, Grady made her feel strong and confident with one loving look. Maybe she needed to see if Cherry from Dirty Gerties had a Wonder Woman costume she could borrow to surprise Sheriff Hardass some night. Although she’d have to pump up the bra part a little to match Lynda Carter’s rack.

“I like your sister even more now,” Ronnie told him. “And your aunt.”

He scoffed in response. “Of course you would.”

“But I love you, Grady Harrison.”

He caught her hand and raised it to his lips. “Here’s to many future battles with you.” The heated look in his eyes promised more of where that came from later.

“And to the victor go the spoils,” she challenged in return, cupping his bristly cheek.

His chuckle sounded gravelly in his throat. “I do enjoy your ‘spoils,’ babe.”

Ronnie leaned her shoulder against the side of his truck. “They want me to meet your mother,” she said, watching for a reaction to her announcement. “How do you feel about that?”

His frown returned, although it was shallow. He shifted, his moves hesitant. Wary maybe. Or was it something else? “I think the better question is, how do you feel about that? I’ve asked you to meet my family before, but you’ve resisted.”

She had. Part of her wanted to continue the resistance, too. If she fell in love with his family like she had Grady, and then he dumped her for someone with less baggage and more sheriff’s wife potential, Ronnie would be in a much worse position than her current destitute state.

The radio inside his truck crackled to life. “Calling Sheriff Harrison. Come in, Sheriff.”

He cursed and stepped around her, reaching inside the open window. “Harrison here.”

“We have a 10-80 involving an off-duty deputy and a Volvo registered to a female named Kathryn Morgan. Backup has been requested in the alley behind the Moose Lodge and the old Stage Stop Grocery building off Butterfield Street. Please advise with instructions for the deputy.”

Grady frowned at Ronnie.

“What’s a 10-80?” she asked.

“Chase in progress.”

“Dang it, Katie! Not again.”

He pushed the button. “I’m on my way.” He tossed the radio back inside. “Your damned crazy sister,” he grumbled and skirted her, rounding the front of the truck.

“It’s Butch’s fault.” Ronnie beat him inside the cab.

He paused on the verge of climbing behind the wheel. “What are you doing?”

“Going with you.”

“Veronica, get out of the truck.”

“Sheriff, that’s my pregnant sister giving your deputy chase. Get your ass behind that wheel and drive.”

* * *

Natalie caught up with Kate at the front of the Volvo, grabbing her cousin by the jacket. “Kate! Hold up, for chrissake. We need a plan.”

A breeze whipped through the alley, swirling dry leaves and a plastic bag around in a small dust devil and then battering them into the cinderblock wall of one of the buildings.

Deputy Dipshit opened his pickup door and scrambled down out of his behemoth, stumbling when he landed due to the two-foot drop from the running board to the asphalt. “You’re under arrest!” he yelled. He reached up inside his pickup. When he stepped back, he was holding a handgun.

The SUV’s driver’s side window rolled down. The sunlight glinted off the top corner of the windshield, making it hard to see anything more than a dark shape inside.

Natalie pulled Kate behind her, blocking the pregnant loonybird from Deputy Dipshit. She raised her hands. “Everybody calm the fuck down!”

“Freeze, asshole!” Kate yelled, taking aim in the SUV’s and Deputy Dipshit’s direction with the Taser gun from under Natalie’s raised arm.

Natalie frowned at the Taser gun. Cheese and crackers! Somebody was going to catch lead today.

“Which asshole are you talking to?” she asked Kate. The guy in the SUV or Deputy Dipshit, who was striding their way with his arms wide and swinging like a big dumb ape.

Out of the corner of her eye, Natalie saw something flash inside the SUV. A long rifle barrel eased out the open window.

“Gun!” Natalie stepped back, bodily forcing Kate to do the same.

But the barrel took aim in the other direction.

Deputy Dipshit froze, his eyes widening.

Nothing moved but the dead leaves. The plastic bag scraped along the asphalt.

Natalie’s focus dipped to Ernie’s handgun. Was he going to raise it and shoot? If he did, she and Kate were at risk of catching some crossfire.

A popping sound broke the silence.

The deputy grabbed his neck. “What did you … ?” He pulled out a red dart. “Kate Morgan, I’m going to … ” Ernie’s knees gave out. “You stupid … ” His eyes rolled back. Then he pitched forward, landing face first on the pavement.

Kate tugged free of Natalie’s hold and raced toward the driver’s side of the SUV. “Get out of the vehicle now!” she yelled, sounding like she’d recently graduated from the police academy.

“Kate!” Natalie ran after her cousin.

As they reached the SUV’s open window, the passenger-side door opened and the guy in the green shirt climbed out.

He closed the door and stared at them through the passenger-side window, sizing them up. Another breeze whooshed through the alley, making his hair stand up in tufts. He may have liked John Denver, but he looked more like Buck Owens.

Kate aimed the Taser, seeming to forget there was a closed passenger-side window between the guy and her. “Tank sends his love, dickweed,” she yelled, adding under her breath, “Natalie, go get him.”

“With what? My ninja nunchucks?”

Kate huffed. “Distract him while I zap his ass.”

“How? My juggling skills are rusty.”

The guy took off running toward Ernie’s truck with a definite limp.

Kate cursed and ran around the back of the SUV, chasing after him with her Taser leading the way.

“Kate, wait!” Natalie raced to Deputy Dipshit, who was still taking a catnap. She grabbed his gun and sprinted after Kate.

She caught up with her cousin a block away around the front of the building. Kate was holding her side, cursing.

“Are you two okay?” Natalie asked, pointing at Kate’s baby bump.

“We’re fine. I just got a stupid cramp. I can’t run like I used to. You need to go after him. You’re way faster and he’s moving slow, thanks to that limp.” She frowned down at the gun in Natalie’s hand. “Where did you get that?”

“From your pal, Ernie. Here.” Natalie held the gun out to Kate.

“You keep it.”

“Take it and give me your damned Taser.” She snatched Kate’s Taser gun from her and shoved the handgun in her cousin’s hand. “Go back and call 911. We need help.”

Natalie took off after the suspect, hoping her cousin didn’t have her chasing down an innocent man with a Taser gun.

“To your left!” Kate yelled from behind her.

She followed Kate’s instruction, catching a glimpse of a green shirt about a block ahead. Kate was right, the guy wasn’t moving very fast. That limp had gotten even worse from when he’d first started out. Tank must have really done some damage.

Natalie cranked up the speed, going into her high school track 100-meter dash mode. Her feet slid around more than usual in the tennis shoes she’d borrowed from Claire, but her legs held strong.

Up ahead, the killer climbed a six-feet tall chain link fence on the left. He was circling the block, Natalie realized, heading back toward his rig … and Kate.

She reached him as he swung his leg over the fence and dropped to the ground on the other side. He cried out in pain upon landing and stumbled backward, falling on his butt out of reach of the Taser.

Natalie jammed the gun down the back of her pants and locked her fingers high in the chain link, looking for a toehold.

“You and yer sisters shoulda left those diamonds alone,” he said in a southern accent. His words erased all doubts in her mind that Kate was right—this was the killer.

She pulled herself up the fence, her fingers finding purchase in between the twisted wires at the top. “You fucked with the wrong family, asshole.” She pulled herself higher, her chin cresting the top. “The cops are on their way,” she bluffed, hoping Kate had actually called 911.

With a grunt of pain, the killer pushed to his feet and limp-jogged away while holding his side.

“Kate!” she yelled as she started over the top of the fence. “He’s coming your way!”

Natalie eased her body over the fence, feeling one of the sharp wire tips slice her skin through her shirt. Then she was over and dropped to the ground. Her knees twanged but held steady. She took off running after the killer, praying her cousin was ready for him because she knew there was no way in hell Kate would be sensible enough to hide somewhere safe until help arrived.

A gunshot rang out from the alleyway up ahead.

“Shit!” Natalie pushed harder.

She rounded the side of the brick building and found herself back in the alley standing opposite Kate. The guy in the green shirt was the monkey in their “middle.” He stood half-crouched, clutching his side, warily watching Kate.

Her cousin had Deputy Dipshit’s gun pointed at the guy. “Don’t move, Mr. Killer.” She held the gun steady.

Kate’s face, on the other hand, was anything but still. Her left eye twitched along with her cheek.

Hello, Mr. Hyde.

The guy looked behind him for an escape, scowling when he saw Natalie standing there. She raised the Taser gun. “You heard the woman.”

The sound of sirens pierced the air. A wave of relief rippled through Natalie. Kate must have made the call for help.

He took a step toward Kate. “What are ya gonna do, bitch?” The guy puffed up his chest, trying to look bigger than he was, playing the intimidation game. Apparently, he’d sized up the two of them and found Kate to be the lesser threat. Dumb mistake. “Do ya know how many whores like you I’ve gutted?” He laughed, harsh and creepy sounding. “I reckon I’ll scalp you first.”

“I reckon I’ll shoot you first.” Kate looked at him down the barrel of Deputy Dipshit’s gun. Her cheek twitched.

He cackled, giving Natalie the chills. “You must be the crazy sister.”

Boom!

The gun in Kate’s hand jerked slightly.

The killer collapsed, holding his leg. A howl of pain echoed through the alley. “Ya shot my fucking knee!”

“Don’t call me CRAZY!” Kate yelled back and took a step closer. “That bullet was for what you did to Tank. If you move again, I’m going to shoot you in the dick.”

Natalie thought of the poor people this son of a bitch had tortured and killed over the last few months.

She stepped closer.

Kate glanced up at her. “What are you doing?”

Natalie aimed the Taser at the skin on his lower back where his shirt had pulled up. “Making sure he stays put.” She squeezed the trigger.

The guy’s body shuddered and stretched taut, his eyes rolling back the same as Harvey’s had in the back of Kate’s car. Then he stilled and seemed to deflate into the asphalt.

The sirens shrilled around them as a county sheriff’s truck pulled up behind Kate’s car. A Yuccaville cop car blocked off the other end, trapping everyone in between.

“Set the gun on the ground, Kate,” Natalie said, following her own advice with the Taser.

“How long do you think we’ll be in jail this time?” Kate asked, taking a step away from Deputy Dipshit’s gun.

They both raised their arms into the air.

“Until we’re little old women.”

“Damn. My ice cream is going to melt.”

Natalie scoffed. “Who cares about ice cream? I should have gone to Coop’s camper with him last night.”

“Maybe Detective Cooper will find the idea of conjugal visits sexy.”

“Shut up, Kate. I’m mad at you.” Natalie watched the law dogs prowl closer and groaned. “Here we go again.”