NICK FOUND CASEY VONN at Foothill Rents. Sundays were busy, men bringing back Rototillers and lawn seed broadcasters and backhoes. Casey was in the yard wrestling a trencher back into place. Dirty T-shirt, cutoff sleeves. Oily jeans with a knife on his belt, muscles and tattoos.

Nick had seen him around, mostly on a black Harley hog ripping up and down the Tustin streets like he’d just held up a bank. Big ears and a thatch of black hair.

The warrant check had Casey with drunk in public and an assault that got him ninety days in County. The assault was a while back, just after Nick made patrol. But he remembered it had to do with Casey’s motorcycle gang, the Hessians, and Casey had put the guy in the hospital. It figured.

“Hey, Casey Vonn,” Nick said, crunching across the oil-stained gravel. He came from the sunshine into the shade of a big metal port.

Casey didn’t look at him. Just rammed the heavy trencher forward. Then yanked it backward, lining it up straight.

“Still a little crooked,” said Nick.

Casey picked a big crescent wrench off the table, flinched, and Nick saw the wrench flying at his face. Turned and took it high on his shoulder. In a flash Casey was over the back fence, running alongside the flood control channel. Nick got over the chain link easy and hit the ground running. Saw Casey up ahead in his clunky boots, figured he’d catch him in less than thirty seconds. Thought: knife. Nick had run down plenty of creeps in the last seven years and it was one of his favorite things about the job, kind of like being on the football field for the Tillers, knowing you had a step on everyone. Or a couple of steps. What a good feeling, to close the distance, see the guy in front of you look back and his eyes get big. Then take him down according to what he’d tried to do to you. This big-eared sisterfucker Hessian with a crescent-wrench greeting card, he was going down hard.

Nick took him low, ramming his shoulder into the small of Casey Vonn’s back. Nick held on tight while they fell, then he let go and scrambled quick to get a handful of Casey’s black hair and his.45 against the back of Casey’s head. When Casey was compliant Nick reached down, flipped open the knife case, and tossed the heavy weapon into a green tumbleweed.

“You’re slow as shit, Casey.”

“You’re the goddamned football star.”

“Get your hands behind your back.”

Casey was breathing hard and fast. His cigarette box had come out of his pocket and gotten torn up in the fall. There was a trail of broken up smokes and shredded tobacco.

Nick watched Casey’s skinned, bloody, grease-stained hands cross submissively on his back. He got the cuffs tight but not too tight, then stood. For a second, looking down, he saw two of Casey. Felt his balance go out of whack for just a second. Ever since the rumble and the branch they used on him.

“You could have hurt me with that wrench, Casey.”

“It got your attention.”

“Janelle is what got my attention.”

“What about her?”

“She told us everything you and Lenny did. She’s got a black eye to prove it. You’re looking at serious charges, so there’s no use bullshitting me.”

“I never did nothing to her and I’m never changing that story. You do what you want, pig.”

“I hate that word for cops.”

“What charges?”

“I know guys who’d kick your teeth out right now,” said Nick. He looked down at Casey. Too easy.

Casey didn’t say anything right away. Just lay with his face in the dirt getting his breath back now. “What charges, Becker?”

“That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

“I never did nothing to her. Whatever she said she’s lying. Fuckin’ girl drinks, you know? I’ve seen her put away half a bottle of schnapps, no problem. Lies all the time. Do anything for money.”

Nick put both hands on one of Vonn’s shoulders, rolled him over, and sat him up. Cuts on his cheek and lower lip, nothing serious. Casey sat cross-legged and hunched.

“Maybe we can work a deal,” said Nick.

“I’m listening.”

“You tell me everything you and Lenny and Janelle used to do, and I’ll make sure you don’t get charged for any of it.”

Sirens wailed and Nick thought the timing was great. Stupid confusion crossed Casey’s face. Nick could tell he was guilty just by the set of his lips.

“Most of it’s probably not a crime anyhow,” Nick said. He surprised himself with the idea. Then went with it. “It’s never been a crime to touch your brother or sister. It’s just everyday brother and sister stuff. I know. I got little sisters, too.”

Vonn eyed him. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s just touching, is what I’m talking about. Tell me about the Foot Tickle, Casey. And the Leg Tickle and the Bun Bunny and the Front Bunny.”

“Those are all lies.”

“I told you it’s no big deal. It’s not even a crime.”

“Then why’d you chase me down?”

“And after that, I want to know about the black eye and the dope.”

“What dope?”

Sirens louder now. More good timing, Nick thought.

“The reds, Casey. Don’t tell me you didn’t give her the reds.”

“Wasn’t me,” he said quietly, looking down at the dirt.

“Lenny?”

Casey spit. “Ask Lenny about Lenny.”

“I already did and he said you gave Janelle the reds. And Janelle said you gave her the reds. Lots of fingers pointed at you, my friend.”

“They’re fuckin’ liars, man.”

“That’s why I chased you down, Casey. That’s how bad I wanted somebody to tell the truth. So just start off with that kid stuff, the Bun Bunny and all that. Just start with one thing and then go to the next.”

“What if I don’t? What if I just get my lawyer?”

“That’s fine, but I’ve got to arrest you before they’ll appoint one. And lawyers are for creeps like Lenny. So suit yourself.”

Two uniforms came jangling down the flood canal road but Nick told them to wait back by the rental yard.

For the next half hour Nick listened and asked questions. He almost brought out his notepad and pen but he figured that would be enough to spook Casey Vonn back into the slime he came from.

When Nick was sure he had enough he got the knife from the tumbleweed and put it in his pocket. Walked Casey back toward the rental yard. Nick switched the cuffs to the front and the deputies helped him get Casey over the fence.

Nick told Casey to sit in the back of his unmarked and he’d get him a cigarette. He told the rental yard customers gathered around the car to beat it and they did.

When he’d finished lighting one of his smokes for Vonn, he told him he was under arrest for statutory rape, assault, and narcotics violations.

“You behave yourself, I’ll forget about the wrench,” he said.

“You said the tickle and bunny stuff isn’t a crime because she’s family.”

“Let’s ask a jury.”

“You never said nothing about a jury.”

AN HOUR LATER Nick and two deputies arrested Lenny at his home out in Modjeska Canyon. Took all three of them to pry Lenny out of the bathtub. Skinny as a scorpion and he smelled bad and his eyes had a terrible wattage in them. In the garage Lenny had a nice chopped Harley Panhead with a Fat Bob gas tank done up in flame orange and red. And maybe ten thousand little white pills that looked and smelled like Benzedrine hidden down in some old fishing gear under the workbench.

ON HIS WAY home that evening Nick stopped off at Millie’s for a couple of drinks. He liked the quiet before returning to the happy, deafening chaos of the Becker family. Willie was almost three. Katherine one and a half. Stevie two months. Katy was big and beautiful and often exhausted.

He opened the door to find Willie screaming and chasing Katherine around the living room. Katherine wailed happily. Katy right behind them hollering for them to be quiet while the baby in her arms screamed in sheer excitement.