He nodded.

“Hi,” Allerton said.

“We’re going, Seaside. A Serrano lead.”

“Right.”

“Hm.” Maybe gruntlike. “I’ll drive,” he told her.

“Hey,” came a woman’s voice behind them.

Kathryn Dance walked up from the side of the building, where her car was parked, the gray Pathfinder. Nose art from her dogs decorated the back windows. Stemple liked her dogs; he knew them pretty well, being a regular visitor to the Deck. He was after Dance to let him borrow the flat-coated retriever, take her hunting and bring back a dressed duck or two for the family in thanks. He’d made the mistake of mentioning that in front of Dance’s kids; the look in the agent’s eyes in response was a hard one to describe. It meant no in a lot of different ways.

Allerton was eyeing Dance neutrally as the CBI agent walked up. She glanced around and then moved closer yet. “Al.”

A nod.

“Carol, there’s something I want to talk to you about. Both of you, really.”

“Sure, Kathryn.”

Stemple tipped his large head once again. Maybe issued a grunt.

“I heard you had a lead to Serrano.”

The DEA agent hesitated.

Dance said, “Well, I know you do. TJ told me. He’s my inside man. You’re going to talk to this lead now?”

Allerton held her gaze. “We are.”

Dance said, “I want to interview him.”

“Well…”

“I know the turf, Carol. I don’t know this particular subject but I know the crowd he’d hang with. That gives me a huge leg up.”

“But Charles,” Allerton said. “He suspended you from criminal duty.”

Stemple watched Dance’s lips tighten. “All right. The other thing?” She glanced at Stemple, then decided, it seemed, to plunge ahead. “You don’t know Charles as well as I do. If I were a man and what happened with Serrano happened? He wouldn’t’ve busted me. Hate to say it but…” Dance shook her head. “You’ve been through this too, Carol. You know how it is.”

Allerton’s expression said: Yes, I do.

Women in law enforcement.

Dance added, “I’ll give you full credit, for everything I find out. And that’ll go all the way to Washington. I’ll disappear.”

“No, that’s not necessary.”

“Actually, yeah, it is. Charles can’t know anything, that I’m involved. All I want is to nail Serrano.”

“Sure,” Allerton said, nodding. “I get it. Completely sub-rosa.”

Whatever that meant. Though Stemple hammered out a definition.

Now another glance his way.

Dance said, “I may already be under the bus—”

“Charles’d do that to you?”

Now Stemple couldn’t control the grunt.

“Already under the bus but we get Serrano back, Sacramento won’t be clamoring for my head quite so loud. It’s the only chance I’ve got to pull something out of the fire here.”

Allerton was scanning the parking lot, thoughtful, not looking for acquiring targets, though, as Stemple was doing. “The fact is, Kathryn, I could use your help. I’m not the best interviewer in the world.”

“Deal then?”

“Deal.”

Dance’s eyes swiveled to Stemple.