I cautiously turned the key in the ignition and eased the truck into the flow of traffic. The Buick drove like a refrigerator with wheels. The truck drove like a monster Porsche. I decided if I was going to drive the truck I was going to need a whole new wardrobe.

My clothes weren't cool enough. And I needed more basic black.

And I should trade in my sneakers for boots. And probably I needed sexier underwear… a thong, maybe.

I crossed town, drove a couple blocks on Hamilton, and slipped into the Burg. I was taking the long way home to Joe's house. Always procrastinate the unpleasant. Morelli wouldn't be happy about me going off with Lula, but he'd understand. Going off with Lula when he'd asked me to stay in the house would generate the sort of anger that could be worked off with a half hour of vicious channel surfing.

The truck was going to provoke a full-blown contest of wills.

I turned the corner onto Slater and felt my heart roll over in my chest. Morelli was home. His SUV was parked in front of the house. I lined up behind the SUV and told myself it might not be so bad. Morelli was a reasonable guy, right? He'd see that I had no choice. I had to take Ranger's truck. It was the sensible thing to do. And besides, it was my business. Just because you lived with someone didn't mean they ran your life. I didn't tell Morelli how to conduct his business, did I? Well, okay, maybe once in a while I stuck my nose in there. But he never listened to me! That's the important point here.

Problem was, it wasn't actually about the truck. It was about Ranger. Morelli knew he might not be able to help me if I was standing next to Ranger when Ranger was operating outside the law. And Morelli had enough of his own wild years to understand the feral side of Ranger's sexuality. Another good reason not to have me standing too close to Ranger.

I swung out of the truck, beeped it locked, and marched up to the house. I opened the door, and Bob rushed up to me and bounced around. I gave him some hugs and got some Bob slobber on my jeans. I didn't mind about the slobber. It seemed like a small price to pay for unconditional love. And besides, you could hardly notice the slobber mixed in with the grass and dirt stains and God knew what else. Bob sniffed at the God knew what else and backed off. Bob had standards. Morelli didn't rush to greet me. He didn't bounce around or slobber or exude unconditional love. Morelli was slouched on the couch, watching the Three Stooges on television. 'So,' he said when I came into the room.

'So,' I answered.

'What's with the truck?'

'What truck?'

He cut his eyes to me.

'Oh,' I said. That truck. That's Rangers truck. He's letting me borrow it until I get the Buick back.'

'Has the truck got a VIN?'

'Of course it has a VIN.'

Is the VIN legitimate would have been a better question. Ranger has a seemingly inexhaustible supply of new black cars and trucks. The origin of these vehicles is unknown. The vehicle identification tag is almost always in place, but it seems possible the Bat Cave might contain a metal shop. Not that Ranger or any of his men would actually steal a car, but maybe they wouldn't ask too many questions upon delivery.

'You could have borrowed my SUV,' Morelli said.

'You didn't offer it to me.'

'Because I wanted you to stay in the house today. One day,' Morelli said. 'Was that too much to ask?'

'I stayed in the house for most of the day.'

'Most of the day isn't all of the day.'

'What about tomorrow?'

'It's going to be ugly,' Morelli said. 'You're going to be on a rant about women's equality and personal freedom. And I'm going to be waving my arms and yelling, because I'm an Italian cop, and that's what we do when women are irrational.'

'It's not about women's equality and personal freedom. This isn't political. It's personal. I want you to support my career choice.'

'You don't have a career,' Morelli said. 'You have a suicide mission. Most women try to avoid murderers and rapists. I have a girlfriend who goes out trying to find them. And if murderers and rapists weren't bad enough, now you've pissed off a gang.'

These gang people should get a grip. The least little thing and they're all bent out of shape. What's the deal with them?'

'That's how they have fun,' Morelli said.

'Maybe the police should try to get them involved in a hobby, like woodworking, or something.'

'Yeah, maybe we could get it to replace all the drug dealing and killings they're doing now.'

'Are they really that bad?'

'Yes. They're really that bad.'

Morelli shut the television off and came over to me. 'What the hell happened to you?' he said, looking more closely at my jeans.

'I had to run Roger Banker down.'

'What's this in your hair?'

'I'm hoping it's dog drool.'

'I don't get it,' Morelli said. 'Other women are happy to stay home. My sister stays home. My brothers' wives stay home. My mother stays home. My grandmother stays home.'

'Your grandmother is insane.'

'You're right. My grandmother doesn't count.'

'I'm sure there'll be a time in my life when I want to stay home. This isn't it,' I said.

'So I'm ahead of my time?'

I smiled at him and kissed him lightly on the lips. 'Yeah.'

He pulled me close to him. 'You don't expect me to wait, do you?'

'Yep.'

'I'm not good at waiting.'

'Deal with it,' I said, pushing away.

Morelli narrowed his eyes. 'Deal with it? Excuse me?'

Okay, maybe I said it a little more authoritatively than I'd intended. But my day hadn't been all that great, plus I was feeling just a tad defensive over the foreign substance in my hair that might have been drool, but then maybe not. I could have ended the conversation there, but I didn't think it was smart to back down on the issue. And truth is, I was working my way out of Morelli's house. 'I'm not staying home. End of discussion.'

'The hell this is the end,' Morelli said.

'Oh yeah? Well end this.' And I gave him the finger and headed for the stairs.

'Very adult,' Morelli said. 'Nice to know you've thought this through and have it reduced to a hand gesture.'

'I've thought it through, and I have a plan. I'm leaving.'

Morelli followed me upstairs. 'Leaving? That's a plan?'

'It's a temporary plan.' I took the laundry basket from the closet and started putting clothes in it.

'I have a plan, too,' Morelli said. 'It's called you're staying.'

'We'll do your plan next time.' I emptied my lingerie drawer into the basket.

'What's this?' Morelli said, picking out lavender string bikini underpants. 'I like these. You want to fool around?'

'No!' Actually, I sort of did, but it didn't seem in keeping with the current plan.

I gathered up some things from the bathroom, added them to the basket, and carted the basket downstairs. Then I lugged the hamster cage from the kitchen and put it on top of the clothes in the basket.

'You're serious about this,' Morelli said.

'I'm not going to start every day off with an argument about hiding in the house.'

'You don't have to hide in the house forever. Just lower your visibility for a few days. And it would be nice if you'd stop looking for trouble.'

I hefted the laundry basket and pushed past him to the door. 'On the surface that sounds reasonable, but the reality of it is that I give up my job and hide.'

I was telling the truth. I didn't want to start every day off with an argument. But, I also didn't want to wake up to more graffiti on

Joe's house. I didn't want a firebomb thrown through his front window. I didn't want a Slayer breaking in when I was alone and in the shower. I needed a place to stay that was unknown to the Slayers. Not Morelli's house. Not my parents' house. Not my apartment. I wouldn't feel completely safe in any of those places. And I didn't want to put anyone in danger. Maybe I was making a big thing out of nothing… but then, maybe not.