Pepper spray was just one reason that Mark and Lorenzo preferred to work without police. Police were quick to use the spray, then leave the Humane officers to deal with the aftereffects. Some police, especially those who did not own dogs themselves, were also quick to use their sidearms. Recently, Lorenzo had seen a 6D officer empty his magazine into a teeth-baring, saliva-dripping rottie that, with patience, could have been subdued. Lorenzo had the impression that this particular police just wanted to shoot his gun.

Lack of police was fine, long as you didn’t need them. But as Mark and Lorenzo went down the alley, counting the cars up ahead, they both realized they could use some help today.

“Pull over,” said Lorenzo. “I want to talk to that kid.”

“How do you want to do this?” said Mark, sweat on his forehead, though the air conditioning was blowing full force on his face.

“Your call,” said Lorenzo.

“I’ll go in.”

“Figured you would. You got your binos?”

“My camera too.”

“I’ll get a record of these license plates,” said Lorenzo, grabbing his clipboard and pen.

“Right,” said Mark, parking the Tahoe, putting the tree up in park.

“You get burned, you come on back. You need help, you holler.”

“I will.”

“Or we could both stay up here,” said Lorenzo. “Wait for the law.”

Mark, reaching for his binoculars and camera in a pack behind his seat, did not answer. Both of them got out of the truck.

“You,” said Lorenzo, pointing at the kid, who was still standing beside the silver BMW.

The kid stepped away from the car. Lorenzo went to him.

“Take off,” said Lorenzo. “Police on their way, and you don’t want to be here for that. You did what you got paid to do. Now leave, hear?”

The kid gave him a tough shoulder roll before he walked off, a slight dip in his stride.