Nick was still brooding on Bock. “You get a look at that guy at the table by the railing? All in black?” Beau stopped to think. “I saw him,” he said. “He drove up in that lime green shit-box Camry. Why?” “I know the guy. His name is Tony Bock. He’s the guy in the Dellums custody case. Kate handed him his ass on Friday afternoon.” “Weird-looking guy.” “Yeah. Did you see what he had shoved down the crack of his ass? He had one of those collapsible steel batons. What do they call them? An ASP? Must have been damn uncomfortable.” Beau nodded. “Or maybe he had his dick on backwards.” “Yeah,” said Nick, pulling out his cell phone. “Happens to me all the time.” Nick’s cell phone rang as soon as he turned it on. He got into the car on the passenger side—a couple of Advils had eased the pain in Beau’s butt cheek enough for him to drive. Nick hit ANSWER. “Lacy?” “Nick, I’ve been trying to reach you.” Her voice was tight and urgent, but not the tone she had when she was calling with a problem.
