"Bob!" I said. "What about Bob?"

"I walked him and fed him. He'll be fine. He's sleeping in a patch of sun in the dining room."

We took the 'vette with Diesel driving. He peeled out of the lot and headed west on Hamilton Avenue to Route 1. He took the Route 1 bridge into Pennsylvania, and I looked across to the Warren Street bridge, TRENTON MAKES — THE WORLD TAKES was the message on the bridge. I hadn't a clue what it meant.

"How do you know where you're going?" I asked him.

"I can feel Flash in front of me. There are a couple people I connect to, and Flash is one of them. I can't always connect, but it's strong today. Probably because he's excited to be on the chase."

"Can you connect to me?"

"Sometimes."

"So you didn't bug my car?"

"No, I didn't bug your car. I dropped the bug into your purse. GPS is more reliable than this hocus-pocus crap. Unless it's raining. I have real problems in the rain. Nothing works in the rain."

We were off Route 1 and heading north toward Yardley. Traffic was moderate. Diesel drove into Yardley and pulled to the side of the road.

"What's up?" I asked him.

"Lost Flash. It feels like he's behind me."

Diesel punched a number into his cell phone. "Lost you," he said. He turned in his seat and looked out the back window. "Yeah," he said, "I see the sign. Get me a couple of those glazed sticks and coffee." Diesel looked over at me. "Everyone stopped to get doughnuts. Do you want anything?"

"Double your order."

"Make that four glazed sticks and two coffees," Diesel told Flash.

Five minutes later, Diesel pulled back into traffic. "We have a visual," he said. "That's Flash in the blue Honda Civic in front of us. Two cars ahead of him is a black Lincoln with Jersey plates. I imagine that's our man, Delvina."

We followed Flash and Delvina for an additional ten minutes, taking a road that hugged the Delaware River. There were houses on either side of the road. Large older houses on partially wooded lots mixed with small summer cottages. We saw the black Lincoln turn into a riverside driveway and disappear behind a six-foot-high privacy hedge. Flash slowed and parked on the shoulder one house down. We parked behind him and got out of the 'vette. Flash met us halfway with the coffee and doughnuts.

"I don't think you've met," Diesel said. "Flash, Stephanie. Stephanie, Flash."

Flash was maybe five foot ten with spiked red hair and a bunch of diamond studs in his ears. He was slim, and you might place him in high school until you looked closely and saw the fine lines around his eyes. He was wearing jeans and sneakers and a ski jacket with a bunch of lift tickets hooked onto the zipper tag. I suspected he was a boarder.

I took a doughnut and coffee and thought this would be really nice if it was a social occasion. We stood there for a while, drinking coffee and eating doughnuts, waiting to see if the Lincoln was just dropping off or picking up. Fifteen minutes went by.