He studied her in an indifferent manner. “And I have heard of you, Ms. Lolo Long.”

I noticed that this time when he called her by name, he did not proffer the title of officer.

Her chin came out as she locked eyes with him-something not too many people would or could do. “And what have you heard?”

“I have heard that you are the tightest…”

I interrupted, sensing that what the Cheyenne Nation was about to say wasn’t likely to help our situation. “Why didn’t you hit your siren?”

A long moment passed as she shifted her gaze from Henry, past Dog, to me. She lowered her own sunglasses to get a better look into the gloom of the cab, and her jasper-colored eyes leveled on me like the twin-bore of a battleship turret. “Excuse me, but was I speaking to you?”

I shrugged a shoulder and smiled inwardly at her resemblance to Vic. “Well, I guess it’s none of my business, but there are no markings on that vehicle and this thing sits awfully high and as close as you were I had to really look to see your emergency lights-if you’d have just hit your…”

She threw an arm up on the door sill and interrupted me. “You know, Mister…?” She left the statement hanging there like her arm.

“Longmire.”

She shook her head ever so slightly, as if my name was an annoyance in itself. “That first part, the one about this not being any of your business?” She pointed a no-nonsense fingernail in the air, as if pinning my words, like bugs in a collection. “I liked that; let’s stick with that one.” The iridescent glasses came back up, and she turned to face Henry. “I know a lot of people around here consider you to be something kind of special, but that doesn’t exclude you from the rules of the road.” She raised a hand, gesturing back toward town. “That sign back there at the intersection says stop, not pause, not hesitate-stop is what it says, and whenever I’m around you better damn well stop.”