“He try running?” I asked. Tom nodded. “He got about five feet.” “Search him?” I asked. “Yeah, his things are on the table there.” Tom nodded toward it. I went over and set down everything I’d taken from the other man—a wallet, a phone, and a small bag of marijuana. I looked at what Beth and Tom had pulled off of the other guy—a pile of multicolored condoms, a wad of money that on quick glance looked like about a thousand bucks, a pack of cigarettes, and some more marijuana. I pulled the IDs from both wallets and walked back to Tom. Beth came back from the car with the file. I held the two IDs up. “Alex Rivera and Curt Daly. What are you gentlemen running for, exactly?” I asked. Neither of the two responded. I looked at the guy I’d chased down. “Couldn’t be for the little bit of weed I found on you, was it?
