CHAPTER 23
Hours after the shooting, Lacy was still trembling. Two officers had driven her to the Anchorage police department. They didn’t tell her what she was waiting for, but she had a pretty good idea.
They settled her in a room they assured her was completely secure. It was cold and drafty, with a dank, almost mildewy smell. A female officer asked her a few questions about the shooting, quickly realized Lacy was too stunned to offer any helpful information, and then left her alone with a cup of orange juice and half a jumbo Costco muffin.
She didn’t realize someone was watching her from another room until she took out her cell to call Sandy and a loud, projected voice shattered the silence. “No phone calls, miss. It’s for your own safety.”
She put the phone on the table in front o
