Ranger pulled onto the shoulder and reprogrammed the GPS system.

'Lucky for you, you look good in a T-shirt,' Ranger said.

'Lucky for you I don't have a gun on me.'

Ranger turned to me. His voice was low and even, but there was a whisper of incredulous disbelief. 'You're not carrying a gun?'

'Didn't seem necessary for us both to have one.'

It was a little after five o'clock when we drove past the Cruz house. We were in a development of middle-income homes, mostly little ranches sitting on small plots of land. Every third house was the same. From the maturity of trees and shrubs, I'd have guessed the houses were maybe ten years old.

The Cruz house was pale yellow with white trim and a teal-green front door. The landscaping was economy grade but neat. There were several cars in the driveway and two at the curb. I imagined friends and relatives were sharing the Cruz's grief over their daughter.

Ranger drove two blocks over and parked. We were in front of a small public access to a bike path that wound through a narrow greenbelt behind the houses.

'I'm going to wait here,' he said. 'You take the car and go do your thing.'

'Are you sure you want to give me the car after making sexist remarks about my mechanical skills? I might not come back for you.'

'I'd find you,' Ranger said. He took my hand, kissed the palm, and got out of the car.

I exchanged seats, put the car in gear, and drove back to the Cruzes'. I parked at the curb and blew out a sigh. I was going to feel like a real shit for intruding at a time like this. I set off for the house, and just as I got to the porch two young women came out to have a cigarette. They lit up, took a deep drag, and sat down on the step to enjoy the rest in comfort.

I extended my hand. 'Stephanie Plum,' I said. 'Were you friends with Carmen?'

They both nodded.

'I'm Sasha,' one said.

'Lorraine.'

'I'm part of the task force investigating the crime,' I told them. 'Would you mind if I asked some questions?'

Lorraine looked down at my jeans.

'You're going to have to excuse my dress,' I said. 'I was called in on my day off, and I didn't get a chance to change.'

'What do you want to know?'

'Do you know her husband?'

'Carmen talked about him in the beginning. Ranger, Ranger, Ranger. I mean, how lame is that? Who calls himself Ranger?'

'Did she ever mention his real name?'

'Carlos.'

'Would you recognize him if you saw a picture?'

'No. None of us actually saw him. And then all of a sudden she was married and living in Arlington and she sort of fell off the earth.'

'Is he from this area?'

'I don't know where he's originally from,' Lorraine said. 'He was working as a security guard at Potomac Mills Mall when she met him. He told her it was only a temporary job until his business took off.'

'What business was that?'

'He was a bounty hunter. Carmen thought that was real cool. From what I hear, she cashed in an insurance policy so they could buy computers and shit.' A tear ran down Lorraine's cheek, and she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. 'The people on television are saying the bastard shot her.'

'Thanks,' I said. 'This has been helpful.'

I got directions to the mall, drove back to the bike path, and picked Ranger up.

'When Carmen met this guy he was working as a security guard at Potomac Mills. It's a mall off I-95 a couple miles south of here,' I told Ranger.

Ranger punched Potomac Mills into the GPS. 'Okay, sweetheart,' he said to the GPS. 'Talk to me.'

If you entered Potomac Mills at one end and stared down the length of the mall you would be sure it ended in Kansas. We were standing in front of a mall map getting the lay of the land, looking for the security office and not finding it.

'The mall closes at seven,' Ranger said. 'We've got a little over an hour to get someone to ID our man. I'm going to have Tank see if he can do something by phone. Meanwhile, you try to find security people to talk to. I'll be fifty paces behind you.'

I looked down the mall and saw two uniformed guards standing back on their heels watching the shoppers. Man and woman. In their twenties. The woman looked like she'd gained some weight since they'd issued her uniform. Her partner was tall and gangly. Bad complexion. I was guessing they ate a lot of meals at the food court.

I came up to them with a smile. Friendly. Needing assistance.

'Excuse me,' I said. I'm looking for a guy who used to work as a security guard here. I can't remember his name but he was medium build, dark brown hair, kind of nice-looking. Caucasian, I think, but with dark skin. Probably hasn't been here for maybe six months.'

'Doesn't ring a bell,' the woman said. 'Did he work weekends? We only work weekends.'

'I'm not sure.'

'You should talk to Dan,' she said. 'He's been here forever. He knows everyone. He's sort of heavyset and balding, and he's probably down toward the other end. He might be around Linens-N-Things, unless he got a call.'

I wasn't sure where Linens-N-Things was located, but with the way this mall was looking it could be a couple miles. I took off at a fast walk, trying not to be distracted by the stores. I made it past Banana Republic and the Gap but instinctively stopped in front of Victoria's Secret.

I felt Ranger at my back, his hand warm on my waist. 'If you buy something you have to model it,' he said.

I got a rush at the thought, panic followed… and then guilt. 'Just looking,' I said.

'I hate to ruin this moment, but there's a guard at three o'clock.'

'Is he overweight and balding?'

'Hard to tell if he's balding from here, but he's overweight. He's standing by the kiosk, four or five stores down.'

'I see him.'

I read his name tag as I approached him. Dan Whitten. 'Excuse me,' I said. 'I'm looking for a guy who used to be a security guard here. I can't remember his name. Medium build. Caucasian but sort of dark skin. Dark brown hair.'

'That's a pretty broad description. What do you want with him?'

'I met him in a bar a couple days ago, and he walked away with my iPod. We were comparing MP3 players, and he got a phone call and had to leave. I didn't realize until too late that he'd walked off with my iPod and left me with his piece of junk. Anyway, all I remembered was that he said he used to work here. And he said now he was working as a bounty hunter.'

'Edward Scrog. You should kiss that iPod good-bye. The guy is a nutcase. He got fired for harassment.'

'You mean sexual harassment?'

'All kinds of harassment. Some guys go power-goofy when they get a badge and a uniform. This guy thinks he's Wyatt Earp or something. Walked around with his hand on his flashlight like it was a gun.' He broke into a smile. 'Scrog used to pat women down. He'd claim they looked suspicious. That was ultimately his undoing. Tried to do a pat-down on a fed. She pulled a move on him and had him on the floor with her foot on his neck. Then she filed charges.'

'I don't suppose you know where I can find him?'

'No. It wasn't like we were friends.'

'Well, thanks,' I said. 'This has been helpful.'

'Let me give you some advice you didn't ask for. Stay away from Scrog. He's got a screw loose. When they fired him, they walked him to his locker, made him clean it out and leave the premises. I was there to make sure he left, and I saw what was in the locker. He had it filled with guns and ammo. And he had pictures pasted on the door like a kid does with baseball stars and then later on with girls with big hooters. Only this guy had pictures of SWAT guys taking people down. It's like he's seen too many cop movies. When he first came on the job he was applying to all the local police academies, only no one would give him a call back.