I was debating kicking him in the nuts when he gave me a shove to the chest, knocking me backward off the small cement pad. I came down hard on my ass in the mud.

"Take a hike," he said, "or I'll shoot you with your own fucking gun."

The door slammed shut and the bolt clicked into place. I got up and wiped my hands on my jacket. I couldn't believe I'd just stood there flat-footed and let him take my shoulder bag. What had I been thinking?

I'd been thinking about Clarence Sampson and not about Lonnie Dodd. Lonnie Dodd wasn't a fat drunk. I should have approached him with a much more defensive posture. I should have stood farther back, out of his reach. And I should have had my defense spray in my hand, not in my pocketbook.

I had a lot to learn as a bounty hunter. I lacked skills, but even more problematic, I lacked attitude. Ranger had tried to tell me, but it hadn't taken hold. Never let your guard down, he'd said. When you walk the street, you have to see everything, every second. You let your mind wander, and you could be dead. When you go after your FTA, always be prepared for the worst.

It had seemed overly dramatic at the time. Looking at it in retrospect, it had been good advice.

I stomped back to the Jeep and stood there fuming, swearing at myself and Dodd and E.E. Martin. I threw in a few choice thoughts about Ramirez and Morelli and kicked a tire.

"Now what?" I yelled in the rain. "Now what are you going to do, girl genius?"

Well, I sure as hell wasn't going to leave without Lonnie Dodd shackled and stuffed into my back seat. As I saw it, I needed help, and I had two choices. The police or Ranger. If I called the police I might be in trouble with the gun. It'd have to be Ranger.

I closed my eyes. I really didn't want to call Ranger. I'd wanted to do this myself. I'd wanted to show everyone I was capable.

"Pride goeth before the fall," I said. I wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but it felt right.

I took a deep groaning breath, shucked the muddy, drippingwet raincoat, slid behind the wheel, and called Ranger.

"Yo," he said.

"I have a problem."

"Are you naked?"

"No, I'm not naked."

"Too bad."

"I have an FTA cornered in his house, but I'm not having any luck making an apprehension."

"You want to be more specific about the not having any luck part."

"He took my pocketbook and kicked me out of the house."

Pause. "I don't suppose you managed to keep your gun."

"Don't suppose I did. On the bright side, the gun wasn't loaded."

"You have ammo in your pocketbook?"

"I might have had a few loose bullets rolling around."

"Where are you now?"

"In front of the house, in the Jeep."