“I don’t have to let you in.”

“We’ve had reports of drug use and loud music,” said Strummer. “We want to talk to you and your sons.”

“Come back with a warrant.”

“We have the cops instead,” said Fernandez. “These are Deputies Laws and Hood. We have no warrant because we don’t wish to arrest you. We simply want to assess your status under Section Eight. We’ll be back with the paper tomorrow, or we can get this interview out of the way now.”

She shook her head and pushed open the door. The house was warm inside and smelled of fried fish and vinegar and mentholated tobacco. By the time Jacquilla Roberts had shut the door, Strummer was marching into the heart of the house, followed by Fernandez.

“They can’t do that,” she said, watching them walk into her kitchen. “I know they can’t.”

“They can’t come in if you don’t invite them,” said Laws. “But once inside they can do a plain-sight search.”

She glowered at Laws.

“Are your sons home?” asked Hood.

“Two young ones are upstairs watching the TV. Two older ones are out I don’t know where. I got home from the plant about half an hour ago. I barely had time to get my long pants and work shoes off and you show up. That story about the dog in the freezer ain’t true. Everyone talking about it. My older ones have some problematic behavior at times but they don’t go puttin’ no dogs in freezers.”

“Tell the housing guys,” said Laws.

“ Authority. They have no authority over me.”

“Don’t aggravate them,” said Hood. “They can make your life miserable.”

He and Laws followed her down a short hallway and past the stairs. Two boys watched in silence from the shadows on the landing. Hood nodded at them and he heard the wind whistle against the house outside.