"We're halfway there, Michael," said Kevin.

"Less," he replied unhappily. "We've stopped the flow of meth here in Lexington. But it wasn't locally produced, and we've no idea where it was coming from."

He and Kevin were eating chili dogs. Not Michael's first choice. But the DEA agent was paying, so chili dogs it was.

"Yeah, I know. Too bad the one guy who knew where the meth was made is also the one guy who got himself killed during the raid."

Both men had seen first-hand the harmful effects of drugs like meth. Neither was too broken up over the death of a drug dealer. Especially one who started a gunfight with law enforcement. But it did make shutting down the entire operation a lot harder.

"Did your guys find anything useful?"

Kevin shook his head. "Nope. Nada. Nothing. Of course, these guys never keep detailed records. You?"

"Hah! Don't I wish."

"Well, we did find this on the dead guy." Kevin held up a matchbook. "It's from a bar called Dylan's Place, in Bremerton."

"And where's Bremerton?"

"About three hours from here."

"Any chance there's a DEA office there?"

"Falls under my office's jurisdiction."

"Wonderful. This just gets better and better. Guess I had better start driving. Thanks for the chili dogs, Kevin."

"Any time, Michael. And good luck."

"I'll need it. Well, maybe this Dylan's Place has a decent beer on tap."

"Don't get your hopes up. I'll let you know if we find anything useful. You'll do the same, right?"

"Don't get your hopes up, Kevin," said Michael drily as he stood up.

The two men shook hands and then Michael walked off. He got behind the wheel and started on his three-hour drive to Bremerton.

He drove in silence for a while before Kitt said, "Would you like some music, Michael?"

"Nah, I'm good, partner."

"You most certainly are not 'good'. Drug cases always negatively affect your mood. Driving in silence is not conducive to shaking that mood. Even that dreadful noise you call music is better for you than silence."

"Fine. Pick something."

To his surprise, Kitt picked a rock and roll station rather than one that played classical music or jazz. By the time they reached the outskirts of Bremerton, Michael's bleak mood was somewhat blunted. A long drive at highway speed – or perhaps just a little bit faster – usually put him a good mood.

"Michael, I have located Dylan's Place, if you would like to check it out,"

"Let's find a place to stay first."

"I have also located a motel within walking distance of the bar."

"Perfect." And then Michael perked up. "Well, would you look at that."

"Michael?"

"They have a championship Little League team."

"It is not baseball season," Kitt pointed out. "So you won't be sitting in the stands, eating burgers and watching a game."

"Nope," replied Michael cheerfully.

Kitt was confused by his partner's sudden chipper mood. He didn't think Michael liked baseball that much that a Little League game would enthrall him. However, he decided not to ruin the mood by asking questions.

They arrived at the motel. Michael checked in and inquired about Dylan's Place. He was assured it was a neighborhood bar, but the locals would more than tolerate him. His smile grew broader. He grabbed his duffel bag from the trunk and went into his room.

Once inside, he raised Kitt on the commlink. "Call Kevin."

"We have nothing to report."

"Oh, we most certainly do."

Kevin picked up on the fourth ring. "Tell me I don't need to bail you out for speeding."

"Nope. Try again."

"You must have only just arrived in Bremerton. You can't possibly have anything to report."

"Oh, but I do. First, Dylan's Place is a local hangout, tucked away here in town."

"Meaning it's unlikely our Lexington drug dealer just happened to be passing by."

"Right. And the local Little League team is called the Brem Chem Bruins, after their sponsor: Bremerton Chemicals."

"Meaning there's a source of chemicals and the facilities for manufacturing meth," said Kevin thoughtfully.

"Right again. I'm now hoping for a decent selection of beers at Dylan's Place."

Kevin paused, then said, "Michael, be careful. Drug trade means big bucks, which leads to big risks. And you're there all alone."

Michael soberly replied, "I know the risks, Kevin. Besides, I'm not entirely alone; I have Kitt."

"Check in with me regularly, at least daily. I'm three hours away, but . . ."

"I appreciate it, Kevin. Talk with you tomorrow."

Michael exited the motel room, sauntering down the street, whistling.