“What a nightmare.”

“That it is.” Sam continued to stretch her aching neck as she looked for the hostess. “Where the hell did she go to find this guy?”

“What if he’s our guy?”

The second that registered with Sam, she took off running, with Gonzo and Vernon chasing after her. She burst into the kitchen, startling the staff. “Where’s the manager?”

“He went out the back.”

“Gonzo, get the front.”

Sam nearly bowled over the young hostess as she went through the back door to an alley. “Where is he?”

The woman recoiled from her shouted question.

“Tell me right now, or I’ll arrest your ass and toss you in jail!”

“He heard you were looking for him, and he ran. I tried to follow him, but he was too fast.”

“What’s his name?”

“Richard Day.”

“What’s he wearing?”

“Black shirt, black pants.”

“What’s he look like?”

“White guy about six feet tall with blond hair.”

“When I come back, I want every bit of information you have about him. If you need to call the owners, do it.” Sam took off, realizing he had a five-minute head start on her and the chances of her catching up to him with a bum hip were slim. She went anyway, aware of Vernon following her as she jogged around the corner and down the block. She checked every storefront on the block, every alley, nook and cranny, but didn’t see any sign of a man dressed in all black.

Dejected, she turned around to head back to the restaurant while using her portable radio to call in a description of the suspect to get Patrol officers looking for him.

Vernon walked along with her. “How’s the hip?”

“Not great.”

“You took off like a shot.”

“Wasn’t thinking about the hip.” She’d pay for that later.

They met up with Gonzo outside. “Run Richard Day and see if he’s in the system.”

While he did that, she went into the restaurant. Sam was in pain from her hip and neck, but she pressed on, looking for the hostess. She was waiting for them at her post and handed Sam a piece of paper with Richard’s name, address and phone number on it.

“Thank you. Do you know why he’d run from cops?”

“I don’t,” she said, her eyes big and spooked. “I haven’t worked here long.”

“Who has?”

She pointed to the bartender, and Sam went to talk to him. She showed her badge and took a seat, looking to give her hip a break. “What’s your name?”

“Tim Child.”

“You’ve been here awhile?”

“Five years.”

“Why would Richard run from cops?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you lying?”

“Nope.”

“If I find out you lied to me, I’ll be back for you.”

“I know how it works. I was on the job in Baltimore for a decade.”

She tipped her head to look at him more closely. He had dark hair and eyes and a neatly trimmed goatee with some silver sprinkled in. “Why’d you leave?”