“No.”

“You’re lying. I smell it on your breath.” He gives Pickles an incredulous look, but he addresses me. “She’s drunk. What the hell are you thinking, drinking and driving on a night like this? Coming over here when we already have enough to deal with?”

“I haven’t been drinking.” I have, but I’m not going to admit it. Detrick is trying to discredit me in front of Pickles.

“Burkholder, you need to go home,” he says. “Right now.”

“Make sure Jonas gets to the hospital,” I say to Pickles.

Detrick grabs my arm. “I’ll escort you out myself.”

Pickles comes out of the cell. “Get your hands off her.”

Detrick jabs a finger at him. “Shut the fuck up, old man.”

Pickles holds his ground, but looks at me. “Maybe you ought to just go, Chief.”

“Don’t let anything happen to—” The next thing I know, Detrick’s hand clamps around the back of my neck. He shoves me hard against the bars. “Give me your hands.”

“I’m leaving,” I say.

“You had your chance. Now give me your goddamn hands!”

Every instinct in my body screams for me to resist. Knowing that will only escalate the situation, I offer my wrists. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You’re drunk and disorderly.” He tugs handcuffs from the compartment on his belt. He’s breathing hard. His palms are slick with sweat as he pulls my hands behind my back and snaps the cuffs onto my wrists, cranking them down hard enough to hurt.

Pickles crosses to us. “Sheriff, that’s not necessary.”

Ignoring him, Detrick glares at me as if he wants to take me apart with his bare hands. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you just bought yourself a lot of trouble.”

“I was trying to help. That’s all.”

“Bullshit. You got juiced up and came here to start problems.”

My heart is beating so hard I can barely catch my breath. I try not to think of the murders this man may have committed. I’m handcuffed and defenseless. If he decided to pull out his sidearm and kill all of us, there wouldn’t be a damn thing I could do to stop him.

“I thought Jonas might respond to someone who speaks Pennsylvania Dutch,” I say. “That’s all.”

“In the middle of a blizzard? After midnight? You’re half drunk and you decide to mosey down here to help? Burkholder, I wasn’t born yesterday!”

“Mona called her,” Pickles puts in, obviously trying to defuse the situation. “That’s why she came. Come on. She’s a cop. Cut her some slack.”

Detrick jams his finger at Jonas, but addresses Pickles. “Do you realize her talking to this suspect could cost us this case! She’s not a cop! Some lawyer gets ahold of this, and that piece of shit in there could get off. Is that what you want?”

For the first time, Pickles looks uncertain.

“Let me go or I swear you’ll find yourself in court.” I try to make my voice strong, but it’s breathless and high.