A gray late-model sedan drove by, hooked a U-turn in the middle of traffic, and parked behind the purple Lincoln. Morelli.

'Uh oh.' Lula said to me. 'You got that look.'

'What look is that?'

'That oh shit look. That's not a look from a woman who got some last night.'

'It's complicated.'

'I've been hearing that a lot lately,' Lula said.

Morelli got out of the car and walked over, looking like a cop who'd just gotten rear-ended. The anger was tightly controlled, and the gait was deceptively relaxed.

'Isn't this a nice coincidence,' Grandma said to Morelli. 'I didn't expect to see you until tomorrow night.'

Neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow, nor shoe sale at Macys could get me out of Saturday dinner with my parents. Like a spawning salmon, I was expected to return to my birthplace. Unlike a salmon, I didn't die, although sometimes I wished I could, and the migration took place weekly.

'I need to talk to Stephanie,' Morelli said with his best effort at a pleasant smile, his hand at my neck, his fingers curled into the back of my shirt to discourage escape.

'Gee, we were right in the middle of something,' I said. 'Can it wait?'

'Afraid not,' Morelli said. 'We need to talk now.'

I followed him to his car, and we stood with our backs to Lula and Grandma to keep them from eavesdropping.

'Gotcha,' Morelli said.

'Now what?'

'Now I take you back to my house and lock you in the bathroom. If you're real nice to me, I'll bring the television in for you.'

'You're not serious.'

'About the television? Afraid not, I've only got one, and I'm not lugging it up the stairs.'

I gave him one of those looks that said get real.

There's a contract on you,' Morelli said, 'and I ride by and see you standing here like a duck in a shooting gallery. A dead girlfriend doesn't do me much good.'

Well, at least he thought I was still his girlfriend. 'I was hoping the contract was just rumor.'

'My sources tell me there's a guy in town from LA. He goes by the street name Junkman, and it is widely believed he was brought in by the Slayers to take you out. From all reports, this is a very bad guy. Lots of talk about him. Virtually no useable information. At this point, we don't even have a description.'

'How do you know he's real?'

'The sources are good. And the brothers on the street are scared. Just so you don't feel too special, it appears you aren't the only one on his list. It's said to include a cop and two rival gang members.'

'Who's the cop?'

'Someone in gang intelligence. We don't have a name.'

'I think it's sweet of you to want to lock me in your bathroom, but it doesn't fit into my plans. And last time I was in your house we had a major disagreement over all this.'

Morelli ran a fingertip around the scoop neckline of my T-shirt.

'First of all, it wasn't much of a disagreement. A disagreement in my family involves restraining orders and bloodshed. Second, I like this little white T-shirt.' He hooked a finger into the neckline and looked inside.

'Excuse me?' I said.

'Just checking.' More of the smile.

'You wouldn't really lock me in your bathroom, would you?'

'Yep.'

That might be considered kidnapping.'

'Your word against mine.'

'And it's disgustingly arrogant and macho.'

'Yeah,' Morelli said. That's the best part.'

I looked back at Grandma and Lula. 'How do you expect to accomplish this?'

'I thought I'd drag you into my car and carry you kicking and screaming into my house.'

'In front of Grandma and Lula?'

'No,' Morelli said. 'I can't do it in front of your grandmother.'

The smile faded. 'Can we get serious? This isn't just rumor. These guys are out to get you.'

'What am I supposed to do? I live here. I can't go into hiding for the rest of my life.'

Morelli's pager buzzed, and he looked at the readout. 'I hate this thing,' he said. 'You're going to be careful?'

'Yes.'

'You're going to get off the street?'

'Yes.'

He gave me a fast kiss on the forehead and took off. Grandma and Lula watched Morelli drive away.

'I don't usually like cops,' Lula said, 'but he's hot.'

'He's a looker all right,' Grandma said. 'And he's got a way about him. There's nothing like a man with a gun.'

'He don't get his way from a gun,' Lula said. 'His way is natural born.'

I did some mental knuckle cracking and sidled up to the big purple Lincoln, hoping it would shield me from potential sniper fire. Morelli had done a good job of rattling my nerves. Stating the obvious to Morelli, that I lived in Trenton and couldn't hide for the rest of my life, wasn't a declaration made from bravery. It was a declaration tinged with desperation and maybe even a little hysteria. I was backed into a corner, the victim of circumstances.

And I was at a loss how to fix it. The best I could come up with on short notice was a temporary survival plan. Hide out in Rangers apartment at night. Search for Pancek by day. The Pancek search was a good thing because I suspected after our initial trip to Canter Street, the search would shift to Newark, far away from the Slayers.

'Everybody in the car,' I said. 'We're going on a Harold hunt.'

I docked the Lincoln in front of Pancek's row house, and we all got out and stood on the stoop while I rang the bell. There was no answer, of course. I rang again. I dialed his number on my cell phone. We could hear the phone ring on the other side of the door.

The machine picked up. I left a message.

'Hi, this is Stephanie Plum,' I said. 'I need to talk to you.' I left my cell number and disconnected.

I tried Pancek's next-door neighbor.

'He left early this morning,' she said. 'Must have been around seven. I went out to get the paper, and he was loading up his car. Usually you take grocery bags into the house, but he was taking them out.'

'Did he say anything?'

'No. But that wasn't unusual. He's sort of an odd guy. Not real friendly. Lived in there all alone. I never saw anyone else go in. Guess he didn't have a lot of friends.'

I left my card with her, and I asked her to call if Pancek returned.

'Now what?' Grandma wanted to know. 'I'm ready to catch this guy. Where do we go next?'

'Newark. His family is in Newark.'

'I don't know if I can go with you,' Grandma said. 'I'm supposed to go to the mall with Midgie Herrel at one o'clock.'

I took Route 1 to Route 18 and got on the Jersey Turnpike.

Grandma was home, waiting for Midgie. Sally, Valerie, and my mom were busy planning the wedding. Lula was sailing along with me in the purple Lincoln, riding shotgun, nosing through a big bag of food we bought before leaving Trenton.

'What do you want first?' she asked. 'You want a sandwich or a Tastykake?'

'The sandwich.' We had about forty Tastykakes. We couldn't choose which kind we wanted, so we got a bunch of everything. I have a cousin who works at the Tastykake factory in Philadelphia, and she said they make 439,000 Butterscotch Krimpets a day. I intended to eat three of them when I was done with the sub. And maybe I'd follow them up with a coconut layer cake. It's important to keep your strength up on a manhunt.

By the time we got to Newark, Lula and I had almost emptied the food bag. My jeans were feeling unusually tight and my stomach felt seasick. I suspected the queasy stomach was more fear of death than overeating. Still, it would have been good if I'd stopped after the third Tastykake.

Pancek's mother had posted the bond. I had her address plus the address of Pancek's former apartment. I knew Pancek drove a dark blue Honda Civic, and I had his plate number. It would be nice to find the Civic parked in front of one of the addresses.

Lula was reading a map, directing me through Newark. 'Turn left at the next corner,' she said. 'His mommas house is on the first block, two houses in on the right side.'