"You got the wrong apartment. There's no Juniak here."

I feigned confusion. Forced a tight smile. "Sorry . . ." I took a step backward and was about to bolt down the stairs when recognition hit Morelli.

"Jesus Christ!" he said. "Stephanie Plum?"

I was familiar with the tone of voice and the sentiment behind it. My father used that same tone when he caught the Smullens' dog lifting its leg on his hydrangea bush. Fine by me, I told myself. Get it straight from the beginning there was no love lost between us. That made my job easier.

"Joseph Morelli," I said. "What a surprise."

His expression narrowed. "Yeah. Almost as surprising as when you nailed me with your father's car."

In the interest of avoiding confrontation, I felt compelled to explain. I didn't feel obliged to do it convincingly. "It was an accident. My foot slipped."

"That was no accident. You jumped the goddamn curb and followed me down the sidewalk. You could have killed me." He leaned beyond the doorjamb and looked the length of the hallway. "So what are you really doing here? You read about me in the papers and decide my life wasn't fucked up enough?"

My plan evaporated in a rush of pique. "I could care less about your fucked-up life," I snapped. "I'm working for my cousin Vinnie. You're in violation of your bond agreement."

Good going, Stephanie. Wonderful control.

He grinned. "Vinnie sent you to bring me in?"

"You think that's funny?"

"Yeah, I do. And I have to tell you, I really enjoy a good joke these days, because I haven't had much to laugh about lately."

I could appreciate his point of view. If I was looking at twenty years to life, I wouldn't be laughing either. "We need to talk."

"Talk fast. I'm in a hurry."

I figured I had about forty seconds to convince him to give himself up. Hit him with the heavy stuff right off, I thought. Appeal to his familial guilt. "What about your mother?"

"What about her?"

"She signed the bond agreement. She's going to be responsible for $100,000. She'll have to mortgage her house. And what will she say to everyone, that her son Joe was too cowardly to stand trial?"

The contours of his face hardened. "You're wasting your time. I have no intention of going back into custody. They'll lock me up and throw away the key, and in the process I stand an excellent chance of getting dead. You know what happens to cops in prison. It's not nice. And if you want to know more of the ugly truth, you'd be the last person I'd let collect the bounty money. You're a lunatic. You ran me over with a goddamn Buick."

I'd been telling myself I didn't give a hoot about Morelli and his opinion of me, but in all honesty, his animosity hurt. Deep down inside, I'd wanted him to hold a tender feeling for me. I wanted to ask him why he'd never called after he'd seduced me in the bakery. Instead, I yelled at him. "You deserved to get run over. And besides, I barely tapped you. The only reason you broke your leg was because you panicked and tripped over your own feet."