Stone frowned, the creases on his forehead like wrinkles on a bulldog. Stubby fingers raked through his hair. “Germando El Paso. What do you want with him specifically?”

“I want to see if he was involved in the gang rape.”

“Where’d you get your information about his involvement?”

“A street person.”

“Who?”

I shrugged. “A bag lady, sir.”

“A bag lady?”

“Yes. But before I went after him, I looked him up and made sure I’d have something to hold him on if I caught him. The last thing I wanted was to be hung out to dry. The baggie was a bonus, sir. And it sure as hell explains why he ran from me.”

“He looks like a fast little mother. How’d you run him down?”

“I’m very quick, sir.”

“I mean, you wouldn’t have pulled a gun on him for a traffic warrant.”

“I would never point my weapon at a fleeing traffic violator. That is flagrant misuse of a firearm.”

“How’d you get him down without your gun?”

“I caught up with him and whacked him on the back. He tripped and fell.”

Stone studied my face. “Ever made the list of forty-four?”

I laughed. The list of forty-four was reserved for those officers with the worst civilian complaint records. “Uh, no.”

“Charges against you?”

“None.” I looked at him. “Why? Is El Paso thinking of throwing a brutality charge at me?”

He smiled. “Not by the time we’re done with him.”

“You’re in deep turd, mi amigo,” Brill said. “You’re looking at a felony drug conviction: possession with intent to sell. That’s a lot of jail time. Then, when you combine it with your traffic warrant and your prior drug conviction, I think a case could be made for three strikes.”

El Paso’s pitted, thin face lost color, his ashen cheeks in stark contrast to the black shirt he wore. His legs were housed in a pair of baggy, saggy jeans. His nose and forehead were scraped from his fall, adding more markings to his punk visage. He had tattoos on his hands, tattoos on the back of his neck. I’m sure if he took his shirt off, he’d be a gallery of blue ink.

Three strikes meant a mandatory life term in prison. Germando’s charges didn’t qualify, but he didn’t know that.

“She plant them,” he shouted out.

“No, she didn’t plant them,” Brill said. “You know how we know that?”

Germando didn’t speak.

“We found a witness who was with her.”

“See, I tell you she was with someone. A black man. A dealer—”

“No, he isn’t a dealer,” Brill explained, “but he is her boyfriend.”

“Her boyfriend is a dealer?”

“No, Germando, he’s not a dealer. But being as they’re close, when we get him on the witness stand, whose side do you think he’s going to be on, hmmm?”

Germando grew sullen. “I wan’ my lawyer.”

“Sure,” Brill said. “But before you make the call, I want to tell you a little story. It might help you out if you listen. Might help you out big time.”