“Is that him?” The unmarked police car was parked about half a block away. The driver pointed as his partner grabbed a pair of binoculars and looked. He nodded, the mug shot that lay in the seat between them, a second verification of their prey.

“That’s him,” he said. “Hell, this is going to be too easy. He’s even coming this way.”

Thomas Holliday had just decided that he was going to have pancakes and sausage for ninety-nine cents at the drive-in on the corner. But the man getting out of the white car in front of him changed his mind. Holliday had a sneaking suspicion that his food was about to be compliments of the county for some time to come.

“Thomas Holliday, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. If you—”

“I’ve heard it all before,” he snarled.

But it didn’t stop the officer as he read him his rights. Holliday cursed long and loud as he was handcuffed, placed in the back seat of the car, and driven away. Several blocks later, they turned a corner, and he saw the drive-in. The breakfast special was off. He should have known. This just wasn’t his day. His stomach growled in protest as they continued down the street.

*  *  *

“Cole! Man, I didn’t think you’d ever get here,” Rick said.

Cole dropped into the chair behind his desk and frowned as the coffee in his cup sloshed over the side and onto some papers.

“Here,” Rick said. “I’ll blot, you swallow. You’re going to need all the control you can muster. Suck that caffeine, buddy.”

“What’s the big deal?” Cole muttered, as he dabbed at the spilled coffee with a paper towel Rick handed him.

“They pulled him in early this morning.”

“Pulled who?” Cole’s mind was still on Debbie. But it didn’t take him long to get in gear as Rick answered.

“Thomas Holliday. A couple of Laguna Beach’s finest picked him up this morning coming out of an apartment. They’re talking to him now. It seems the little man has decided that he wants to make a deal. He keeps claiming that his purse snatching is small potatoes to the information he could give us regarding some dealers. He wants to walk for the information.”

The coffee cup hit the desk empty. The look on Cole’s face was blacker than the liquid he’d just consumed.

“Dammit to hell! No deals! Not with that son-of-a—”

“I knew you’d feel like that. So, come on, we’ve got some tall talking to do with the boys down in Theft.”

*  *  *

“Detective Brownfield…Garza…”