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Pearson approached the information desk and gave the elderly volunteer behind the desk her wife’s name to look up in the computer.
“Zia Pearson?” I asked from behind her.
I was tempted to snap the cuffs on her right away, but I had to confirm it was her. Otherwise, I risked being charged with k********g and a few similar charges. Byrd stood on the other side of her.
She turned. “Yes. Where’s my wife, Chelsea Tucker?”
I snapped the cuffs on one of her wrists and was reaching for the other when someone shouted, “Hey! Leave her alone!”
I turned to see three other women in matching biker vests running toward us. “Aw, shit.”
Byrd ran to intercept them while I struggled to get Pearson cuffed.
“Zia Pearson, you missed your court date and violated your bail agreement. I’ve been hired to
