Solitude Creek (Kathryn Dance 4)

Allerton said, "I think it's Contino."

"Now there's a prick and a half," Foster mumbled.

A triggerman for one of the Oakland crews.

Dance gathered the pictures. She put them away and said, "I think that's it, Mr. Serrano."

He shook his head. "I wish I could help you, Agent Dance. I hate the gangs as much as you do, no, probably more." His voice grew firm. "It is our teenagers and children getting killed. In our streets."

Now Dance was leaning forward and she spoke in a soft voice. "If you did happen to see anything at Mr. Guzman's house and tell me, something helpful to us, we'll make sure you're protected. You and your family."

Now the young man looked away once more. This time it was a moment before he spoke. "I no think so. I think I no be working there any longer. I'll tell my boss give me other jobs. Even if I make less."

Allerton said, "Boy doesn't have the cojones to snitch."

Foster muttered, "She didn't offer him anything. Why would he--"

"You know, Mr. Serrano, we have a budget for people who help us eliminate the gang threats. It's cash, nobody knows."

The young man rose, smiling wistfully. "There only one problem with what you say. 'Eliminate.' If you could eliminate the gangs, then maybe I think about it. But what you mean is, you put a few of them in jail. That leave plenty of others to come pay me and my girlfriend a visit. I have to say no."

She held her hand out. "Thank you for coming in."

"I'm sorry. Not so clean." He showed his palms, though not the soiled nails.

"That's all right."

They gripped hands and he walked out of the room. Dance flipped the lights off.

Chapter 5

Dance stepped into the observation room and swung the door shut behind her. She walked to the table, set her notes down. She hit the button that shut off the recorder. Clicked her Glock back in its holster.

"Well?" Steve Foster asked. "Did something wonderful happen that I missed?"

"What's your assessment, Kathryn?" Overby asked.

"Very few variations from the baseline. He's telling the truth," Dance announced. "He doesn't know anything." She went on to explain that there were some people who were masters of deception and could manipulate their behaviors--like the yoga experts who could slow their heart rate nearly to stopping. But Serrano didn't strike her as that skilled at lying.

"Oh, I think he's got a few skeletons. But nothing related to the informant's death or the gangs or Guzman. I'd guess he boosted a car when he was a kid or scores some weed from time to time. Got a ripple of evasion when we were talking about life on the Peninsula, never being in trouble with the law. But it was small-time."

"You read that?" Allerton said.

"I inferred it. I think it's accurate. But nothing we can use."

"Hell," Overby muttered. "Our one chance to nail Guzman."

Dance corrected, "A chance. That didn't pan out. That's all. There'll be others."

"Well, I don't see a lot of others," Foster pointed out.

Carol Allerton said, "We've got that delivery boy. He knows something."

Foster muttered, "The pizza kid? That's a nonlead. It's a dead lead. It's a pushing-up-daisies lead." His face tightened. "There's something about that asshole Serrano. I don't like him. He was too slick. You learn anything in body language school about slick?"

Dance didn't answer.

Allerton: "It's a pepper."