He immediately pulled off the highway, the truck spraying gravel as he braked to a stop. Swiveling in his seat, he looked back. There it was, a pink-and-orange plastic lady-bug, the kind that attached to the top of an automobile antenna. What was it doing buried in a wrecking yard?

His imagination got the worst of him as he waited for a break in the traffic before making a U-turn into the parking lot. He pulled up next to the shell of a rusty van with a shattered windshield.

It had to be a coincidence. There had to be more than one of those silly ladybugs in the world.

His mission, or quest or whatever you wanted to call it, had begun twelve hours earlier when he'd driven by Ella's house at three o'clock in the morning. Since their big fight and their subsequent breakup a few days before, he'd avoided her street, but last night had been a busy one. By the time his shift had ended, he'd been tired enough to take the old shortcut. It wasn't as though she'd be awake to see him drive past.

Much to his surprise, her house had been visible the moment he'd turned the corner, blazing with lights both inside and out. He'd pulled up to the curb in front and sat there until curiosity and uneasiness forced him out of the squad car and up the path to her door.

Wouldn't it be the ultimate irony if the instincts and skills honed on the police force, a job she'd begged him over and over again to quit, now provided the very abilities she depended on to rescue her?

Or was he reading this all wrong?

Wrenching his thoughts back to the present, he caught sight of the small snow globe on the passenger se