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only you could find a man to have babies with—after marriage, of course.” As if locating the perfect mate was as simple as shopping on the Internet.
    Ouch. I remembered that David would be back Saturday, and there was no way I could keep from exposing him to Mom if she was still visiting. I had no doubt she’d be ready to propose for me and stand in as Matron of Honor or Best Man—or both. Whoopee, my life wa s taking a turn—straight down.
    My phone rang. It was Ike letting me know he was in place, camped out in front of her house. As he had come down the street in his black and white, he saw a car pull away from the curb. Small and white, probably Japanese, was the best he could come up with.
    I thanked him, hung up, and called Mom. “Okay, Mom, things are under control. If you look out the window, you’ll see—”
    â€œI see it. A police car. It’s parked right across the street. It showed up a few minutes ago, and Lanny drove away. Is he going to stay there? Is that Morrisette you told me about?”
    Some day, I might get to tell Mom a story without her taking over, but I doubt it. “Not Morrisette, Morrison. The driver’s name is Ike Morrison. He’s an old friend of mine. He’ll stay until he’s convinced your boyfriend is not coming back. Does that work for you?”
    â€œI suppose. He won’t fall asleep, will he?”
    â€œNo, Mom. He won’t fall asleep. Now, I have to go. Get some rest. Don’t forget to call me with your travel details as soon as you work them out.”
    I disconnected and turned off my light. I needed sleep, as much as I could get to prepare for the next day, especially Mom’s arrival. Sunrise promised to usher in a humdinger. Then I remembered I still had Ashley’s kidnapper to track. Oh boy, that raced past humdinger straight toward madcap. I was heading into a day like no other I’d ever had.

eight
    Those church bells again. They couldn’t fool me twice in the same night. I knew there was no church nearby. An alarm clock, yes. A church, no. I opened my eyes and stared. Yep. It was my too-reliable clock, and it read seven-thirty. I felt like I’d just fallen asleep, which wasn’t far from the truth.
    After Ike’s phone call and the last conversation with Mom, I spent forever rolling from one side of my bed to the other. The last time I noticed, the clock hands sat at four-thirty. Then, the church bells.
    Groaning, I threw back the covers and headed for the kitchen. Coffee. I needed coffee. After that, a shower, a nice hot shower—then more coffee. Since neither Hammonds nor the police contacted me during the night, I assumed things remained the same with Ashley’s disappearance.
    I considered what to wear. I didn’t know when I’d next be able to change clothes. It depended on how fast the case moved once the kidnappers made contact. They had control. All I could do was be ready.
    I grabbed one item without any deep thought about it. For lack of a better name, I labeled it my gun bra. After a recent case when I found myself unarmed, facing the business end of a thug’s pistol, I decided to find a solution. First, I combed the Internet until I found the weapon I wanted, a .22 caliber American Derringer. I chose the .22 to hold the weight down because I knew where I wanted to conceal it, and a derringer to minimize the size.
    With the derringer in hand, I bought several full-coverage bras and took them to Mrs. Gonzalez, a seamstress I knew in Fort Lauderdale. Her ability with a needle and thread was mystical. When I showed her the gun and explained what I wanted, using her daughter as a translator, she gave me her can do smile, and told me to come back next week.
    Upon my return, I found she had modified the bras by reinforcing the center gore and sewing in a snug holster made from a soft material. When I tried the bra on and slipped the derringer in under a T-shirt, I