I WAS HEADING “HOME” to Joe’s apartment, battling rush-hour traffic, when my cell phone rang. I jacked the phone off my hip, heard Yuki’s voice screaming my name.

  “Lindsay! He’s stalking me.”

  “Who? Who’s stalking you?”

  “That freak! Jason Twilly.”

  “Slow down. Back up. What do you mean ‘stalking’?”

  I jerked the wheel left at the intersection of Townsend and Seventh instead of taking a right toward my former apartment on the Hill. It felt like I was swimming against the tide.

  Yuki’s voice was shrill. “Stalking as in haunting me, dogging me. Ten minutes ago, he was sitting in the passenger seat of my car!”

  “He broke into your car?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember if I locked it. I was carrying like a fifty-pound -”

  The signal cut out. I hit speed dial, got Yuki’s outgoing message, disconnected, tried again.

  “Fifty-pound what?” I called into the crackle.

  “Fifty-pound box of files. I just got my key into the door lock when this arm reached over............