We were in Mary Lou's living room waiting on the results. The box had advertised results in as little as three minutes. One down, two to go.

"I still can't believe you shoplifted."

"Desperate times," I said, pacing back and forth between the couch and the TV. "And it's not like I meant to. It just happened. And I did pay for the tampons."

The timer beeped and my heart stopped. I turned to Mary Lou for support, and we walked into the bathroom. I took a deep breath and looked down. After a minute or two, I opened my eyes.

"Maybe you should take another one," Mary Lou suggested. "Just to be sure."

I nodded and closed the door behind her. Then I tore open the second strip, turned on the faucet, and waited for nature to take its course. When it did, I plunged the stick into the stream and counted to ten.

Mary Lou was waiting in the hallway when I opened the door. "What are you going to do?"

I wiped a stray tear with the back of my hand and shrugged. I looked down at the test strips again. There were four of them in total, all saying the same thing: You're fucked.

It was almost seven by the time we made it back to the lot outside Marsillio's. Mary Lou squeezed my hand as I got out of the SUV and told me to call her if I needed anything. I agreed with a short nod, and piled into Big Blue. I was half a block from my apartment when I realized I didn't have Rex.

I parked in the lot underneath the Rangeman building and took the elevator to five. I had decided on the way that I should probably clear out my desk, too, since I was no longer employed there. Hal and Woody were watching the monitor banks, while Ram listened in on the police scanner. I moved quickly to the back cubby and saw that my things had already been boxed up. I lifted the box in my arms and back toward the opening. The computer screen flashed. One of the search programs was still up and running.

I don't know possessed me to do what I did next. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, or the residual effects of the margarita. All I know is that suddenly, a name appeared in one of the boxes. MANOSO, RICARDO CARLOS. I looked down at the pair of hands on the keyboard. It took me a moment before I realized they were mine.

My heart was racing. That nagging voice inside my head was shouting for me to stop, telling me that this was a really bad idea. I hesitated for a moment, and then told it to shove off. I closed my eyes and pressed the Enter key.

I stood in front of the computer screen with baited breath while the program began its search. After a minute, I started to get fidgety. It usually didn't take more than a few seconds to render the results. I wiggled the mouse and a box popped up requesting a security code.

Uh-oh.

Okay, I told myself. Get yourself out of this. Think of something. Anything. I pressed the escape key a couple times. Then control-alt-delete. Then the escape key again. It was useless. The screen was locked. I heard the elevator doors slide open and the low chatter on the floor died away. I poked my head around the corner of my cubby wall. It was Ranger. He spotted me and began to make his way across the floor in quick strides. I glanced back at the computer screen and went head-first into panic mode.

I lurched under the desk, grabbed a handful of cables, and gave them a quick tug. My body flushed with relief when I heard the soft whir of the CPU come to a halt. Phew. I stood up and turned around. Ranger was leaning against the opening of my cubby, his eyes fixed on me.

"What are you doing?"

I closed my mouth and swallowed. "I was just-" I started, but my thoughts were interrupted by an outburst on the floor.

"Fuck!" It was Hal. He moved from one monitor bank to the other, and back again. "Oh, fuck!"

Ranger pulled himself to full-height, and turned to him. "What is it?"

Hal ran a hand over his head. "We've lost the feed."

"Which one?"

Hal shook his head. "All of them."

Ranger's jaw clinched. "Get Boston on the line. Tell them we need backup. Ram, call Tank and get him back here. I want everyone in the building on stand-by." Then he turned back to me once more, and asked, "What did you do?"

I gulped.

Ranger shook his head, and moved onto the floor.

"Ranger, I-"

He turned his eyes on me, and I froze. "Don't," he said.

"But I-"

"Stephanie," he said, just shy of shouting. "Go home."

I brushed past Ranger and ran for the elevator. I pressed my back up against the wall of the car and fumbled with the key fob. My hands were shaking. The doors opened and I let myself into Ranger's apartment. I collected Rex's aquarium off the counter and dropped my key fob and cell phone on the silver plate on the sideboard, and headed for the underground lot.

I climbed into Big Blue shaking and on the verge of tears. I cranked the engine and told myself to get a grip. I could cry later. Right now I had to get the hell away from the building. And from Ranger. If he was half as mad as he had sounded, I'd be booked on a flight to Somalia before dawn.

I tore down the street and drove on auto-pilot back to my apartment. I parked in the lot and took the elevator to the second floor. My apartment had a cold, abandoned feel to it. I set Rex's aquarium on the end table near the sofa, switched on some lights, and turned on the TV for background noise. There, that was better. My stomach growled, and I padded into the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and groaned. Still empty.

It was late and I was tired. I briefly entertained the idea of going to bed and going out for food in the morning. There came another loud grumble and I let out a slow breath. I looked around for anything resembling food and came up with the same packet of banana oatmeal I'd turned down a week ago. Then I dug my keys out of my pocket, said a quick Goodbye to Rex, and locked the door behind me.

The weather was surprisingly mild for winter in New Jersey. It as cold, and sometimes snowy, but hardly reason enough to justify hoarding toilet paper and cans of mixed vegetables for the Big One. The wind was picking up as I hurried across the lot to the Buick. I sank into the seat, started the engine, and turned the heat on full-blast to get rid of the chill. Then I drove the two blocks to the nearest McDonald's and bought a large bag of French fries, a large Coke, and a chocolate milkshake. Since there was good chance I was going to wake up tomorrow morning en route to Mogadishu, I figured it would be okay to indulge. I parked in one of the slots by the drive-thru entrance and tore open the bag. It was two days until Christmas, and I hadn't done anything. No decorations. No tree. I hadn't even bought any gifts. I finished the fries and turned my attention to the milkshake. When that was gone, I stuffed the empty cups into the bag and drove back to my apartment.

I found a slot in the back near the entrance and cut the motor. Once my check for Warner's bond came in, I would go car shopping. In the meantime, I would be stuck with Big Blue. I looked around the interior and frowned. Okay, I thought with a sniffle, now you can cry.

I rested my head on the steering wheel and let out a few sobs, but my heart wasn't in it. I was cold, and I was tired. I wanted to take a shower, go to bed, and wake up like none of this had ever happened. I wiped my eyes and slipped my messenger bag over my shoulder. Then I collected the crumpled McDonald's bag and the bag of tampons and test strips, and shuffled to the elevator.

Ranger was sitting on the sofa waiting for me when I opened the door to my apartment.

We stared at each other for a full minute before I crossed the threshold. I dropped my bag by the door and ambled into the kitchen without saying a word. I tossed the McDonald's bag into the trashcan and turned around. Ranger was standing in the doorway. His thumbs were hooked into the front pockets of his jeans, but his posture was imposing, almost predatory. He was waiting on me to say something. I instinctively took a step back and held the bag of tampons and test strips behind me.

"We found the problem," he said. "Someone disconnected the main satellite receiver from one of the server ports. We lost an hour of transmission. The men are scanning the backup tapes now."

"That was an accident."

Ranger edged closer and I flattened myself against the wall next to the refrigerator.

"I also received word of a security breach. Someone from my office performing an unauthorized search." He crossed his arms over his chest, and nodded in my direction. "You know anything about that?"

I was staring at him, a deer caught in the headlights. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"You're not the first to try it, babe," he said, almost dismissively. "And you won't be the last. You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Not really," I squeaked.

Ranger shook his head and took a couple steps toward me. He dropped one hand to his side and pressed the other against the wall.

"I'm trying to be civilized," he said, "but I'm losing patience. If there's something you want to get off your chest, I suggest you do it before I change my mind."

Right then, the only thing I wanted off my chest was Ranger. He was trying to intimidate me, and it was working. I decided to turn those feelings of fear and dread into something more useful, like hot, roiling anger. Running a search on Ranger might've been invasive and rude, but it's not like he hadn't done the same thing. He probably knew more about me than I did. And what about all those times he let himself into my apartment, without so much as knocking first? Talk about a double standard.

"I want you to leave," I said, so loud and authoritative I nearly wet myself. Ranger's eyes flashed. He shoved off against the wall and folded his arms across his chest.

"Not until I get some answers."

"Fine," I said. "Suit yourself. I'm going to bed. Remember to fasten the chain lock if you have to go out."

I swept past him and made it as far as the living room before he caught me by the elbow, spinning me around to face him.

"Let me go," I said through clinched teeth. Ranger loosened his grip, and I shrugged him off.

Ranger sucked in some air and looked at me through narrowed eyes. "You're hiding something," he said. "I'm not leaving until I find out what it is."

"Look who's talking," I scoffed. "Mr. Let-It-Go, himself, giving me a lecture on hiding things!"

I was flailing my arms around, raving like a mad woman, and I didn't care. I had no job. No car. My savings account was dwindling. And my boobs were starting to hurt. My life was officially shit.

Ranger's eyes followed me for a second, and he asked, "What's in the bag?"

Crap. The bag. I'd forgotten about it. I felt the panic creeping up the back of my throat.

"You first, Ranger. When's your birthday? What's your favorite color? Where's your house? Who's Auggie?"

Ranger's eyes darkened at my last question and my heart skipped a beat. Obviously I had hit a nerve. Ranger moved forward and reached for the bag. His fingers grazed the top of the fold and I jerked away from him.

"Here," I shouted. I plunged my hand into the bag and ripped open the top of the tampon box. I grabbed a handful of pink plastic-sheathed applicators and threw them in his direction. They bounced off his chest and scattered onto the floor by his feet. "Are you happy now?" I threw another handful for good measure, and waited for a response.

Ranger looked stunned for a moment. Whatever he had been expecting, it hadn't been that.

"Babe," he said, with the slightest hint of amusement in his voice.

"Get out!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, pointing toward the door. "Get out! Get out! Get out!"

Ranger gave me one last assessment, and then he turned and left. He closed the door behind him and I sank onto the couch, my knees suddenly unable to support my weight. I turned my attention to Rex's aquarium. He slunk out of his soup can and fixed his beady little black eyes on me.

"Don't give me that look," I said. "You wouldn't have told him, either."

I woke up on the couch at seven o'clock the next morning, and realized I was still in my black jeans, turtleneck, and hooded sweatshirt from last night. Good enough for breakfast, I thought. So I shoved my hair under a baseball cap, grabbed my bag, and moseyed downstairs to the rear lot. I waited in the car for a few minutes while it warmed, then took off in the direction of the Shop Rite in Hamilton Township. I stocked up on the necessities, paid with my debit card, and set the bags in the backseat.

I was unpacking the groceries in my apartment when the phone rang.

It was my mother. "The phone's been ringing off the hook. What's this I hear about you shooting someone? I thought you were trying not to do that. And why haven't you been answering your cell phone?"

"I only shot him once," I said, trying to act casual. Probably it was best if she didn't know the part about me being half-naked and chained to a pipe. I was trying to forget that one, myself. I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder and smeared some peanut butter onto a slice of white bread. "And I didn't answer my cell phone because I don't have one anymore. I gave it back to Ranger."

"You're killing me, you know. You're taking years off my life." My mother sighed. "Will we see you at dinner tonight? I'm making pot roast."

"Sure," I said. "See you at six."

I disconnected and rang Connie at the bond office.

"I've changed my mind," I said. "I'm coming by to get the check."

"That's fine. What's the rush?"

"I got fired."

It was five minutes after three by the time I made it to Vinnie's. I managed to wrangle the Buick into a slot in front of the double glass doors on the third try, and stepped into the office.

Lula and Connie were behind the desk, drooling over the latest People magazine. I could tell by the way they were acting it was the one with Vin Diesel on the cover. Connie carefully painted a fingernail and held it up to the light. She took one look at me and jumped. The bottle of nail polish tipped over, covering Vin in a pool of red goop.

Lula screamed, and began blotting the polish with a couple Kleenexes.

"I told you," she said to Connie. "Don't be doing that multi-tasking shit. Now I'm gonna have to buy me another magazine, 'cause this one got all sticky. What? What is it? What are you looking at?" Lula followed Connie's gaze. She took one look at me and her eyes bulged. "Damn."

I didn't know what the big deal was. Okay, so my hair was probably a mess, where I'd had it shoved under a hat all day. And I still hadn't changed my clothes. Then there was the bruising and swelling of the entire left-hand side of my face.

Connie picked up an envelope with two fingers, and passed it to me while she blew her nails dry. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Fine," I said. "You got anything in?"

Connie shook her head. "A couple of low bonds. Nickel-and-dime stuff. And they're messy. You don't want those." She watched me for a moment before adding, "He really fired you?"

"Yup."

Lula shook her head. "Nuh-uh," she said. "That's just wrong. He should never have done that."

I shrugged.

"You sure you're okay?" asked Lula.

"I'm fine," I lied. Truth was, talking about Ranger was making me kind of queasy. I hadn't given much thought to our encounter the night before, but now it was weighing heavily on my mind. I'd yelled at him. And pelted him with tampons. Probably he hadn't liked either of those things. I excused myself to the bathroom and threw up my peanut butter sandwich. Lula was waiting outside the door when I came out.

"You're not looking so hot."

I wasn't feeling all that hot, either. "I think I need to sit down."

Lula helped me across the room and lowered me onto the fake leather couch. I rested my head in my hands and waited for the room to stop spinning. Then I realized my eyes were tearing up. One word kept playing over in my head. Pregnant. I was pregnant.

Oh, god.

"Uh-oh," said Lula. "I know that look. I used to see it a lot in my previous profession. You want some coffee? Maybe a doughnut? Connie, Stephanie needs a doughnut."

Connie bustled over with a glazed doughnut, but I shook my head. No way a doughnut could fix this. Not unless it had cream filling. There was a splash down my cheek, and I chased away with the palm of my hand.

"I knew it. That hottie cop knocked you up, didn't he?" I shook my head and wiped away a few more tears. Lula looked confused. "Then who... Nuh-uh. No way. Not him. Girl, you never told me you did it with him!"

I bent my head forward and wept in these huge full-out sobs which left me sore. Lula handed me a box of Kleenexes and put her arm around my shoulder.

"You remember that morning you found me on the fire escape? You kept telling me it would all be okay. You took care of me when nobody else gave a shit. Now I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna get you cleaned up and we're gonna figure this out. I don't tell nobody this, but I got a little money stashed away. Not a whole lot, but enough to get you fixed up. There's this doctor a few miles out. Had to go to him a few times back when I worked as a 'ho. He's real good. Private, too. No one would ever know but you and me and Connie, and we won't say nothing."

I blew my nose into one of the tissues, and hiccupped. The door chimed, and my body tensed. I knew it was Ranger even before Lula pulled the .44 Magnum out of the waistband of her skirt. She fired once and we all froze on the spot. The shot took out a chunk of the doorframe, just inches from Ranger's left ear.

Connie dropped her doughnut. "Omigod."

"That there was a warning shot," Lula said to Ranger. "I'm just getting started."

Ranger reached for his Glock and pointed it at Lula, his self-control fading. "Put the gun down."

Beads of sweat were forming on my forehead. I leapt up and eased over to the far wall. "Ranger, don't."

"Shit," Lula scoffed at Ranger. "Don't you be telling me what to do. I have half a mind to bust a cap in your ass for even showing up here after what you did. It's bad enough you gotta go and get our girl all knocked up. Now you gotta strut your fine ass in and out of here like you're some kind of fucking superhero? Nuh-uh. Fuck that shit."

My mouth dropped to the floor and my vision got all dotty. My heart was beating a couple hundred times above normal. Ranger's jaw clinched and his grip on the gun tightened.

Uh-oh.

"Stephanie." I jumped. "Outside. Now."

"Humph," said Lula. "I don't think you need to be talking to her like that. I don't think you need to be talking to her at all. Besides, she don't want to talk to you. Ain't that right, Steph?" I looked from Lula to Ranger and back again, and made a few vowel sounds. "See? She-"

Ranger's gun discharged, leaving a hole the size of an egg in the middle of Vinnie's sofa. Unlike Lula's shot, Ranger's had been wide on purpose. I looked over at Lula. She was trembling.

"Here's what's going to happen," said Ranger, his voice clear and steady. "You're going to put your gun on the counter, and back away. Then Stephanie and I are going to step outside. Alone." He quirked an eyebrow at Lula, and she nodded. Then she stepped forward and put the gun on the counter. Ranger withdrew his Glock and sheathed it in the holster at his hip. Then he turned and nodded in my direction.

I followed him outside once I'd regained the feeling in my legs and watched him cautiously as he piled into the cab of his truck. He opened the passenger's side door and motioned me inside.

"Get in." I shook my head. Ranger sighed. "Christ. I'm not going to kidnap you. We can either do this in private, or we can do it on the corner of Hamilton and Liberty. Your call."

He had a point. I climbed into the passenger's side and shut the door. Ranger pealed out onto Hamilton and made a few quick turns.

"Where are we going?" I asked, the panic evident in my voice.

Ranger said nothing and continued driving. I fastened my seatbelt around my waist and tried to stay positive. Probably I had nothing to be worried about. He came to a halt outside a vacant lot and my knees began to shake.

Ranger cut the engine and rested his arms across the steering wheel. "Talk."

I stared at my knees and bit down on the side of my lip. Now was so not a good time for the crying thing.

"Is it true?"

I kept my eyes on the dash and nodded.

Ranger sucked in a deep breath and let it out. "Fuck," he said in a low voice. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"How sure?"

"I took a test. It was positive."

"Tests can be wrong, babe."

If only. "I took four of them."

Ranger went quiet for a long time. Then he said, "Morelli's?"

"Morelli and I used protection," I said, shifting my eyes to meet his. "We didn't."

We were quiet for a long time, both of us giving it time to sink in. Pregnant. Oh, god.

Ranger leaned back and ran his hand along the steering wheel. "What do you want to do?"

I shrugged. I didn't want to be pregnant. And at the same time, I didn't want to be not pregnant. I didn't know what I wanted. "I don't know."

An awkward silence fell between us, broken only when Ranger turned the key in the ignition, bringing the truck to life again. "I'll be out of town until Wednesday. Tank's in charge. Let him know if you need anything."

"Okay."

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"Nothing comes to mind."

"The search?"

I grimaced. "Was a bad idea," I said with a shake of my head. "I don't know why I did that. I'm sorry."

Ranger brushed it off with a slight nod. "So you're not working with Morelli."

I stared at him, mouth open and speechless. It was more of a statement than a question. Working with Morelli? Ranger thought I was working with Morelli? Under normal circumstances, I would have laughed out loud. The idea that Morelli and I could work together on anything that didn't involve a condom was ludicrous. But the way Ranger said it stung like a slap in the face.

"Is that what you thought?"

Ranger shook his head. "Not really. But you have to admit, you've been acting a little crazed, babe."

"I had my reasons."

Ranger's eyebrows shot up in a you-can-say-that-again sort of way. Then he sighed, and said, "I can't believe Lula shot at me."

I couldn't believe Lula was still standing. "I don't think she'll do it again."

Ranger gave me a look that said she had better not, and pulled away from the lot. He parked in a slot in front of the bail bonds office and idled. I reached for the door handle and he took hold of my arm.

"Nereo Augustinapoulus is a business partner. His son goes by Auggie. He heads up the Boston office."

I stared at him for a while, not quite sure what to make of him. Ranger didn't offer information, not about business or anything else. Ranger was Fort Knox.

"Thanks."

"And babe," he added, as I stepped out of the truck. I turned around to face him. "Do me a favor and don't take on any new skips until I get back."

My mother was waiting for me on the stoop at ten 'til six. Ten minutes early was still five minutes too late. And being late for dinner was one of the Burg's cardinal sins, replacing gluttony, which ran second under baseball as the favorite pastime. I sidled out of Big Blue and kept my head down as I made my way to the door. I'd dressed in a pink sweater and loose-fit jeans, a gray scarf, and a jean jacket. With any luck, she would be too busy complaining about my lack of layers to even notice the big greenish-purple lump running from my left temple to the tip of my chin. I got halfway to the stoop, and heard her suck in some air. So much for that idea.

She followed me inside and stripped me of my coat and scarf, meticulously hanging them in the closet just off the living room. The dining room table was set for ten. I went through the roster in my head: My parents and Grandma Mazur; Valerie, Kloughn and the girls. And then there was me. That left two open slots. I looked around for Morelli and came up empty.

Grandma Mazur was in the kitchen draining the water off the potatoes. She gave me a look and grimaced.

"Crikey," she said. "Looks like someone beat the snot out of you."

I shrugged and took a cookie off the plate on the counter by the sink. "You should see the other guy."

"This the same guy you shot?"

"Yup."

"Good for you."

I finished the first cookie and took a bite out of a second. "What's with the extra plates?"

"We're having company," she said. "That Bill Forbes guy called this morning. Said he couldn't get ahold of you. He's booked a quartet for Valerie's wedding, so we're having him and Sally get together to work out the arrangements."

I nearly choked on a chocolate chip. "You invited Bill Forbes to dinner?"

"Mm-hmm," said Grandma. "I think he's hot. He's got that Dick Van Dyke thing going for him. You think he'd dig an older woman?"

"Don't know," I said. "Only thing we've ever talked about was a serial killer."

The ten of us were scrunched around the small table. We were somewhere between pot roast and pineapple upside down cake, and my stomach was doing somersaults. Sally and Forbes were clashing over wedding music, while Valerie lectured Mary Alice on the acceptable uses of a salad fork.

"No way," said Sally to Forbes. "Lennon was the Bartok of our time. You can't have a wedding without 'Love', dude."

I turned my attention to the other end of the table.

"It's not a dinglehopper, Mary Alice. It's a fork. It does not belong in your hair."

"But I need it to style my mane!"

"You don't have a mane."

"Yes, I do!"

I stifled a yawn and excused myself into the kitchen. My mother followed me, keeping her eyes on the back door.

"Don't you dare."

I stopped in front of the pantry and threw her what I hoped was a menacing look. Well, as menacing as allowed when directed toward the person who brought me into this world... and could probably take me out of it.

"I'm looking for some crackers," I said, rummaging fruitlessly through the cans of creamed corn and various dried goods.

My mother eyed me cagily. "Why?"

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "No reason."

"You look pale." Not sure how she could tell under all the purple. "Are you sick?"

"No, just tired."

My mother nodded. "Maybe you should rest. Go on. I'll box up some leftovers to take with you when you leave."

I watched her for a moment and nodded. My mother had always been the nurturing sort. She was the type of mother who spent her life baking cakes, kissing boo-boos, and attending PTA meetings. She'd once expressed an interest in being a nurse. She would've been a good one, too. But that had been put on hold, first to raise her children, then to help Valerie with Mary Alice and Angie.

I've never put my life on hold for anyone. I'm irrational, self-centered, and somewhat immature. I leap first and look later. And if the water's too deep, I wait for someone to come to my rescue.

Something tells me it's not going to be that easy this time.

I relaxed on the double bed in my old room. It was small and dark, with one window and a dusty pink wall color. It was pretty much the same as I'd left it when I went away to college. Same white curtains. Same pictures on the same spots on the wall. Same floral bedspread with matching dust ruffle and frilly pillow shams. I clutched one of the pillows to my chest and closed my eyes.

When I was sixteen, I'd spent a fair amount of my time in this position. Eyes closed, pillow-to-the-chest, thinking of ways to make it all better. Countless hours had been wasted waiting on a phone call from Morelli after our tryst behind the éclair case. I waited fourteen years for that phone call, and once I got it, I wasn't sure I wanted it anymore.

Now here I am, thirty years old, curled up on the same pink-floral quilt, and still waiting. Waiting on what, I didn't know. Ranger wasn't the phone call type. He was the breaking and entering type. And I'd had enough of a disclaimer beforehand to know that he didn't do relationships.

Boy, I'm such an idiot.

I woke up at a little after eleven and wiped the sleep from my eyes. It took me a while to realize where I was. I shuffled through the small hallway upstairs and into the bathroom to freshen up. Then I crept downstairs and made my way into the kitchen. My mom was in her bathrobe, ironing.

"Can't sleep?"

She shook her head, no. "Just tell me," she said, standing the iron on its end, and straightening a pants leg. "Do you like doing this?"

I questioned her with my eyes and took a seat on the fold-out step-ladder by the pantry.

"The bounty hunting. Do you like it? Is it really what you want to do?" She flipped the pants leg over. "You come in, and you're black and blue. You shoot someone, and I have to read about it in the paper. Or worse, hear it from one of your grandmother's friends. I keep asking myself, 'Why is she doing this?' And I don't know. I just don't know."

I rested my elbows on my knees and thought about it for a while. Did I like being a bounty hunter? The rolling in garbage I could do without, and I'd like to go a couple years without blowing up a car. But on the whole, the job wasn't a complete loss, and there were times that I felt pretty damn good about it.

"Sometimes," I said.

My mother nodded once, and unplugged the iron. Then she wrapped the cord around the base, folded the ironing board into the closet, and pulled a bag of leftovers from the fridge. "You'll want to put an ice pack on that at night, to reduce the swelling. And don't run your showers too hot or you'll make the bruising worse. We'll see if Sally can't do something with your makeup for Sunday."

It was after midnight when I stumbled into my apartment. I slid into the baggiest pajamas I could find and tore into the leftovers, starting with dessert and working my way back. The light on my answering machine was flashing. I carried the cake into the living room, sat down on the sofa, and pressed the Play button. Seventeen messages. Most of them were hang-ups. Five were from my mother. The next couple were from Morelli asking me to call him. The last one was from Ranger. "Babe," it said.

I checked the timestamp on the message. Just over an hour ago. I chewed my lip while I paced back and forth between my living and dining rooms. Then I took a deep breath, punched in his number, and waited. Voicemail. I slapped my forehead with the palm of my hand and groaned.

The phone rang in my hand. I took a deep breath and answered.

"You're up late." It was Morelli. "Am I interrupting?"

"No," I said. "Just a cake binge."

"I thought you were off sugar."

Crap. "I forgot."

Morelli chuckled in the background. I could tell by his tone that he was exhausted. He let out a slow breath and his tone turned serious.

"The ID on Elizabeth Kelly turned out to be a match," he said. "Lab results aren't a hundred percent conclusive yet, but I'm pretty sure we found enough evidence at the crime scene to link it to the murders of Elizabeth Kelly and Erika Bartlett. Probably a few others."

My mouth went sour. "And Warner?"

"So far we've got nothing on him other than your statement. He's still unconscious, but likely to recover."

"Shame."

"Yeah."

There was an awkward silence as we both contemplated what we were saying. Morelli, as a cop, was typically supposed to frown on homicide, even if it was justifiable. And I typically didn't like killing people, since it involved more paperwork than a mortgage loan.

"Listen, Cupcake, I-"

"Just a second," I said, cutting him off. I moved over to window and pressed my face to the glass. A single black Explorer was parked near the hydrangeas at the edge of the lot. It was dark out, and the windows were tinted, but I had a pretty good idea who was behind the wheel.

"I'll have to call you back," I said to Morelli.

I disconnected and punched in Tank's cell phone number.

"You're loitering," I said when he answered. "Did Ranger put you up to this?"

"You could say that."

I shook my head and stared in the direction of the Explorer. "Tell him to call off his watchdogs. I got fired, remember? I'd do it, myself, but I'm not getting through on his cell." I paused for a moment, then asked, "Don't suppose you'd know where he was, would you?"

"No, don't suppose I would."

I didn't believe him for a second.

"Go home, Tank," I said with a sigh. Then I pressed the End button on the phone and watched as the SUV circled in the lot and made a left onto Hamilton Avenue.