So that's why I was sitting alone on a Saturday morning, in a dark motel room, peering through the window sheers, watching the traffic fly by on Route 1, with an ice pack on my face, and feeling very sorry for myself.

From where I sat, I could see any car that entered the parking lot. Behind the hotel was an interstate off-ramp, the only way anyone could sneak up on you from behind would be to park on the off-ramp and climb over the barricades.

I could see why someone might pick this location for any activity other than the usual motel games. It was a real easy place to secure. I made a mental note about that for the future.

I think I needed a new pad for my mental notes, this one was getting full.

I had already spoken to my family this morning. My mother simply said "Why me?" and handed the phone to my grandmother. Grandma told me that the phone had been going ballistic all morning and that a TV crew had already been by to interview her. I should watch the 6pm news.

Hoo boy.

I apologized to my sister for missing the shower. No problem, the shower was fun, she loved the phone, she drank three Long Island ice teas and vomited up Swedish meatballs in the lady's room.

I hate her. I wanted to vomit up Swedish meatballs and I was stuck vomiting up tree bark and yogurt.

I called Ranger's office number, knowing that I would get his machine. My message was short: "Sorry 'bout last night. I kind of lost my temper." I hoped I sounded cute and endearing, but I had the feeling he wasn't in the mood for cuteness.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring out, thinking about calling Morelli, but I thought better of it. I needed to give him some time to cool off too.

I was in such a deep funk that I squeaked when my phone rang. It was Morelli.

"Steph..."

Not a good sign... 'Cupcake' would have been a better sign...

"Hi..." I left the end open. I couldn't read his mood yet.

"Hiding?"

"Uh, huh."

"From who?"

"You want the shorter list? The shorter list is who I'm not hiding from."

"Am I on the short list or the long list."

"You are way on the top of the long list."

"Good to know I'm on the top."

"Yup, you always like being on top."

I heard the snort of laughter and relaxed. Okay, he wasn't that mad.

"Any Slayers on that list?"

"They're up there."

"Not any more."

"Come again?"

"I'd love to."

I snorted this time.

"It's been a very busy night. The Kings, the Bad Killer Cuts and the Bloods were all on the warpath last night. They moved in on the Slayers' territory. By this seven this morning, all of Slayerland was wiped out. The Kings have moved in all the way down to the seven hundred block. The Cuts got everything southeast of Comstock and Seventh and the Bloods have taken the area southwest of Comstock and Seventh. Besides the nine Slayers that Sally took out last night, we've got another sixteen dead. As far as the State Police Gang Unit can figure, what's left of the Slayers are the five that we have in custody and four that are MIA. They've probably fled the state already."

"Ho-ly Crap!"

"The State Police have asked if they can contract you out for their Newark operation."

"WHAT?"

"Joking. At least I hope they were."

There was a long pause as I took all this in.

"So what's next?"

"I don't know if we can really be sure that there isn't a threat out there for another twenty-four hours. We need that time to track down the missing Slayers. Also, we're talking with the L.A.P.D. Gang Unit to see if the L.A. Slayers are planning any retribution." There was a long pause and I could hear the strain in Morelli's silence. "I need you to come in, Cupcake. Just until we're sure that the situation is under control."

I ran my fingers through my hair. "I won't be locked up. Not by you. Not by Ranger." I needed to make him understand. "If I crawl under a rock and stop living, then I'm just doing to myself what the Slayers want to do to me. It's not that I'm not afraid. You know I'm a chicken shit. It's just that I can't let the fear take over."

"Being cautious and sensible is not the same as letting the fear take over. Laying low for twenty four hours so that you can be alive next week is not the same as being killed."

It sounded so logical when he said it, I don't know why it still sounded like giving up to me. There was a long silence. I could hear Joe breathing, I could feel him trying to understand.

"Joe, when I was a kid, I had a bit of an overactive imagination. And when I was fifteen, I was absolutely certain that someone was trying to kill me. I'd slip on the ice and an entire storefront window pane would smash, and I would imagine that it was all part of some diabolical assassination plot. A car would skid out on a slippery street and I was sure that it was trying to hit me. I got myself so freaked out that I locked myself in my bedroom for a week. I wouldn't even go downstairs to eat, I was that certain that something out there was trying to get me. My mother was a basket case, she kept telling me that I was just imagining the whole thing. I knew I was, but that didn't make my fear any less real. Grandma was cool, she said it was just a phase and that I would get over it.

"But it was my Dad who really helped me. My Dad. Go figure? He would barely say three sentences to me in an entire year, but when I was sitting in my room, freaking out, he came in and sat on the edge of my bed. I'm never going to forget what he said. 'Princess' he said. Don't laugh, he used to call me 'princess'. 'Princess' he said, 'Life is scary and living is dangerous, but if you spend all your life being scared of dying, then you're going to end up being too afraid to live. Don't be too afraid to live, 'cause living is more fun than dying.'"

"That's deep."

"Yup."

"Then what?"

"I took a shower, called Marylou and we went to the mall."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, I didn't stop being afraid, I just stopped letting it control me. And whenever scary stuff would happen, I'd just figure that being afraid sometimes is the price you pay for living."

There was another long pause. I was having trouble reading him on this one. When he spoke again, I could hear that he had his cop face on.

"Do you feel safe where you are right now?"

"Safe enough."

"Can you give me a couple of hours? Just stay low, off the streets and out of sight for a couple hours?"

There was something in his voice that made me think he was up to something. "Why? What's up? What are you on to?"

"Cupcake, just do this for me. I'll call you in a couple of hours." He disconnected abruptly.

I sat there running that conversation over in my head. Something I said had pushed one of Morelli's buttons, but I couldn't figure out what it could be. I used the last bit of ice in the bucket to replenish my towel. I was going to take a shot in the dark and guess that this place didn't have room service and I didn't want to draw attention to myself by calling the front desk and asking them to walk some ice down to me.

It was already getting pretty old sitting in that motel room but even without Morelli's request, I really would have hesitated about going out. One side of my face was still in brilliant technicolor and I doubted that even a dozen Mary Kay Reps could have made me look like anything but a bloody terror.

I sat on the bed, toying with the buttons on my cell phone, thinking about calling Ranger. Maybe he wasn't that angry. Maybe he thought this was kind of funny. Or maybe even cute?

I dialed his cellphone. It picked up after the first ring. I waited. I could hear him breathing, but he didn't say anything.

"Yo?" I said, hopefully.

Nothing. Okay, so we're still pissed.

"Anything interesting happen last night?"

Nothing. Okay, so we're really pissed. I sighed.

"I didn't blow up your car. That's gotta count for something."

Nothing. This was getting old.

"So. You mad at me?"

A long pause, and then...

"Babe."

He disconnected.

I sighed. He was really, really pissed.