15
We returned to the Ironwood Substation. The same desk sergeant called and confirmed Rios was there. A few minutes later, a Latinx woman barely five feet tall walked into the waiting area. I guessed her to be in her mid to late thirties.
“Jinx Ballou?” she asked with a faint Central American accent.
Byrd and I stood. “That’s me. This is my associate, Jubal Byrd.”
“Come on back.” She led us past the locked door, down a hallway to a small interview room. “Let’s talk in here.”
After we sat down, she said, “Honestly, all of this came as a shock to me. Wouldn’t have guessed Pearson had it in her.”
“You think she did it?” I asked.
“In nearly twenty years as a cop, I’ve learned that anyone is capable of just about anything. I’ve seen sweet little grandmothers who tortured children. A tea
