Molly woke to a wet kiss on her cheek. "Cut it out, Bandit," she said grumpily and pushed the dog away.

"Bandit?"

Molly opened her eyes. She was curled up on a couch, a fuzzy cream-colored blanket over her. A red-haired dog sat in front of her, thumping its tail hopefully on the floor. Molly glanced over in the direction of the voice and saw the tall Lieutenant standing in the doorway with a steaming cup in his hand. He was still in his Rutgers T-shirt and navy blue sweats. His hair stood up like a silver brush.

She looked back at the dog. "Sorry, Nessa. That was my dog when I was a kid." She rubbed her eyes and tried to remember how she ended up on the couch. Flynn had been watching infomercials for some reason, and they had quickly put her to sleep. Maybe that was the point.

He set the coffee down on the coffee table. "I take it you're not a morning person, either," he said.

Molly shook her head and sat up with a yawn. "Hate 'em," she said. She mumbled a thanks as she reached for the coffee.

Flynn opened the front window drapes, letting in a flood of sunlight. "I'm gonna take a quick shower," he said. "There's cereal in the kitchen." He retreated down the hallway. "Don't answer the phone or the door," he called back over his shoulder.

Molly took a sip of the nearly black coffee and tried to wake up. She ran her hands over the soft terry cloth of the robe she was wearing. It smelled like the Lieutenant's aftershave – something with a spicy bite. She needed her own clothes.

She was dressed and had the blanket folded by the time Flynn emerged from his bedroom. He was wearing a full three-piece suit in a rich, heathered charcoal. His eyebrows raised at her. "You're up," he said.

She felt self-conscious in her frumpy cardigan and jeans from yesterday. "You said we could stop by my place this morning. I really need to get some things."

He nodded. "Ok. I'll be ready in a minute."

Molly gathered her totebag from the bedroom and quickly smoothed the covers on the bed. She petted Nessa good-bye on the way out to the garage. Flynn unlocked the car and stashed a small box under his seat.

The drive to her apartment building was short and quiet. The morning sun shone brightly on the green lawns of the neighborhood around campus, but her building still looked cold and desolate. She didn't even know any of her neighbors. That used to seem like an advantage.

Flynn parked and she reached for her door lock. "I'll just be a few minutes," she said.

"Whoa. Wait a minute there." His hand was on her arm. She turned to look at him.

"SID cleared your place last night, but I need to make sure it's still clear before you go barreling in."

Molly sighed and sank back in her seat. She muttered a very foul word.

Flynn gave her arm a brief squeeze. "You can follow me up. Just stay behind and give me a few minutes to check things out."

Molly nodded meekly and followed him to the building. He was walking quickly and decisively, back as straight as an arrow; she did her best to keep up on her cast, but she was out of breath by the time they got to the top of the stairs. "Hang back a little," he said as they approached her door.

There were strips of green tape over the doorjamb at several places. Flynn ran his fingers over them. "Okay," he said finally. He pulled out his car key and used it to cut through the tape. "I need your key."

She fished it out of her pocket and handed it to him. He opened the door and pushed it open sharply. Whack! Molly jumped. He grabbed her arm and pulled her in, then shut the door behind her. "Stay here," he ordered. His right hand was on the butt of his gun as he walked quietly into her livingroom. He went to the first window and ran his hand over the edges. She saw the same green tape there. She lost sight of him as he moved to the next window. She swallowed past a lump in her throat. Her stomach was all clenched again, and she felt queasy as her eyes wandered over the mess in the livingroom.

Finally he declared the apartment safe and she retreated to the bedroom, keeping her eyes averted from the papers and books all over the livingroom floor. Unfortunately, the bedroom was even worse. All her clothes were off their hangers or spilling out of drawers. She resisted the urge to stamp her feet and start yelling. It wasn't Flynn's fault. Besides, they were doing this to protect her. "Thanks a lot, guys," she muttered as she pulled her suitcase out of the closet and started stuffing wrinkled clothes into it.

When they finally got to the safehouse on the other side of town, Molly was worn out. All she wanted was a shower and a long nap. Flynn followed her into the dark apartment. A musty smell permeated the avocado green shag carpet, but the place looked neat enough.

Flynn set the small box down on the kitchen table. "He'll be here soon," he said.

She nodded. She had heard him talking to someone on the phone about sending an officer out. She put her small bag of groceries in the fridge.

"Uh, Molly, there's something I want to talk to you about."

She turned from the fridge. "Yeah?"

"I brought you my old revolver. I think you should hang onto it."

Molly felt her jaw come unhinged. He was lifting the lid on the box. A gleam of steel shone from inside. "It's not heavy," he said. "You shouldn't have any trouble handling it. A friend of mine in the Sherriff's office wrote up an emergency permit so you can carry it."

Molly finally found her voice. "No."

He looked up at her. "What?"

"Are you crazy? I've never touched a gun in my life. I don't believe in them."

"What do you mean you don't believe in them? It's sitting right here; it's not a hallucination."

"I mean I don't believe in shooting people, or animals either, for that matter."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! You're telling me that if you came across a hungry mountain lion you wouldn't blow it away?"

"It's my fault for invading its territory. That's why I don't go hiking around the canyons."

Flynn rubbed his forehead and muttered something about academics. He looked up sharply as a knock sounded. "Just me, Sergeant Kelsoe," a deep voice called. Flynn closed the box and went to the door. He returned with a young, dark-haired man who was wasting his time as a cop. He should have been an actor or a model. He gave Molly a devastating grin and shook her hand.

Flynn left soon after, box tucked under his arm.