Tank and I had gone through the house and returned to the door leading to the garage. We were standing in a small hallway behind the kitchen. The laundry room and a half bath opened off the hallway.

“I think this guy is getting the code from the keypad,” I said to Tank.

“I’ve been thinking that, too. It’s like when people watch you at the ATM and they get your bank code. It’s like someone’s looking through walls.”

We left Faux Vernon and went to house number two. The second house was only three blocks away in the same neighborhood. It was a huge redbrick box with white columns and a porte cochere.

Ranger met us at the door. “The drill is the same. Cash and jewelry taken from the upstairs master.”

“Are the police making any progress on these robberies?”

“Not that I can tell. Not a lot of talent assigned to this desk.”

“It’s odd that these two houses were hit together.”

“Both clients were at the same dinner party,” Ranger said. “Somehow, our bandit knew the houses would be empty. Originally, I thought he randomly hit houses that were dark. Now I think he plans ahead. We need to go over the original report taken after each break-in to see if there’s a common service provider. Someone who might have talked to the homeowner. And we probably want to go back and reinterview all of the clients who were robbed.”

“That still doesn’t tell us how he got the codes.”

“Trust me, if I catch this guy, he’ll tell me how he got the codes.”

THE FIRST THING I noticed when I woke up was that I wasn’t alone. Ranger was in bed with me. And he was asleep. I reviewed the night, and I couldn’t remember anything amazing happening. Tank had driven me back to Rangeman around two in the morning. Ranger hadn’t come back with us. It was now nine o’clock. I checked around and determined I was wearing all the clothes I was supposed to be wearing. Panties and T-shirt. I slipped out of bed, and Ranger woke up.

“When did you get home?” I asked him.

“A little after five.”

“I’m surprised I’m not naked.”

“You weren’t in the mood,” Ranger said. “You told me you’d shoot me with my own gun if I touched you.”

“What did you do?”

“I got up and locked my gun in the safe. You were asleep when I came back to bed.”

“I was tired.”

“Are you tired now?”

“No, but I’m going to work. I have three skips to catch. I need to check in on Lula. And I want to go over the reports from your break-ins.”

“The reports are on my desk,” Ranger said.

A half hour later, I rolled out of the garage in Ranger’s Cayenne and dialed Lula.

“What’s going on today?” I asked her. “And where are you?”

“I’m getting ready to leave your apartment. Your kitchen is all clean, and they’re putting my new door up this morning. I’m having brunch with Mister Clucky, and then I’m going to your mama’s house to cook with your granny. You could have brunch at Cluck-in-a-Bucket with me if you want.”

“Cluck-in-a-Bucket has brunch?”

“Only on Sunday. You get orange juice and biscuits and a bucket of nuggets.”

“How is that different from every other day?”

“It’s the orange juice. Usually, you get a soda.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll meet you at Cluck-in-a-Bucket.”

I’d grabbed a to-go cup of coffee from the fifth-floor kitchen before I left Rangeman, but I hadn’t bothered with breakfast, so biscuits and orange juice sounded good.

I drove through the center of the city and reached Cluck-in-a-Bucket just as Lula was pulling into the lot. Mister Clucky was dancing around in front of the building, and the hideous impaled chicken was spinning overhead.

“Yoohoo, Mister Clucky, honey,” Lula called, getting out of her Firebird and waving.

“Boy, you must really like him,” I said.

“He’s an excellent scrubber, and besides, it’s not everybody gets to know Mister Clucky personally. He’s one of them minor celebrities.”

Mister Clucky was surrounded by kids, so we bypassed him and put our order in.

“I’m going to try my luck with Ernie Dell again,” I said to Lula. “Are you in?”

“As long as it don’t take too long. Larry gave me his barbecue recipe, and Granny and me are trying it out this afternoon.”

I got an orange juice and two biscuits. Lula got an orange juice, a bucket of biscuits, and a bucket of nuggets.

“Crickey,” I said, looking at her tray. “I thought you were cutting back on the food.”

“You said only have one pork chop and one burger and one steak. So I only got one bucket of biscuits and one bucket of nuggets. You got a problem with that?”

“You could feed a family of six on that food.”

“Not in my neighborhood. I live in a three-pork-chop neighborhood.”

Mister Clucky came inside dancing and singing his Mister Clucky song, going table by table.

“I know him personally,” Lula said to the woman at the table next to her.

Lula was still wearing the flak vest. She ate half the bucket of nuggets, and she released the Velcro straps to give herself more room.

“Is that a bulletproof vest?” the woman next to Lula asked.

“Yep,” Lula said. “And it’s hard to make a fashion statement in this on account of it don’t come in a lot of colors. I gotta wear it because there’s a couple guys tryin’ to kill me.”

The woman gave a gasp and hustled her two kids out the door.

“Hunh,” Lula said. “She just up and left. She didn’t even finish her Clucky Burger.”

“Next time, say you’re wearing a back brace.”

We finished eating, Lula said good-bye to Mister Clucky, and we saddled up. We left Lula’s Firebird in the lot, and I drove.

“I love this car,” Lula said. “My personality don’t fit a SUV, but this car is still excellent. It got buttons all over the place. What’s this button do?”

“I don’t know.”

Lula pushed the button and my GPS screen went blank. “Oops,” Lula said.

The car phone rang, and I opened the connection.

“This is Hal in the control room,” a voice said on the hands-free phone. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“You just dropped off my screen. Did you disable your GPS?”

“It was an accident. How do I fix it?”

“Push the button again.”

“Where’s that voice comin’ from?” Lula wanted to know. “It sounds like the voice of God, floatin’ around in space.”

I disconnected Hal, reconnected the GPS, and turned off Hamilton.

“This time we’ll cover all exits,” I said. “You take the front door, and I’ll take the back door.”

“Sounds like a plan. Who’s going in first?”

“I’ll go in first. You don’t go in at all unless I yell for you. You keep your eyes open in case he goes out a front window.”

I drove a couple blocks into Ernie’s neighborhood, found the alley that ran past the back of his house, and crept along until I reached his driveway. I pulled in and angle-parked behind the garage, blocking his exit.

“I’ll give you time to walk around the house, and then I’m going in,” I said to Lula. “Just stay put until you hear from me.”

Lula checked the Velcro on her vest to make sure everything was secure. “Gotcha.”

We left the Cayenne and went our separate ways. I counted off two minutes and knocked on the back door. No answer. I knocked again and tried the door. Unlocked. I stepped into the kitchen and listened. No sound. “Bond enforcement!” I yelled. “Ernie, are you in here?” Nothing. I walked through the house, stood at the bottom of the stairs and called out again. I climbed the stairs and went room by room. No Ernie. I returned to the first floor and opened the door to Lula.

“He’s not here,” I said. “I’ll try again later.”

We walked through the house and let ourselves out.

“There’s something wrong here,” Lula said, standing on the back stoop. “I get the feeling something’s not right. What is it?”

A wave of nausea swirled through my stomach. “It’s Ranger’s Cayenne,” I said. “It’s gone.”