Plum Boxed Set 1, Books 1-3 Stephanie Plum Novels) by Janet Evanovich

but I pushed the lock button again anyway. The Sure Guard was nestled in my lap. The police station was less than a mile away. I debated giving Clarence the boot and going after Morelli. Morelli was, after all, my main objective.
    I did a fast run-through of possible arrest attempts, and none of them turned out satisfactory. I didn’t want Morelli to come at me while I was struggling with Clarence. And I didn’t want to drop Morelli in the street. Not in this neighborhood. I wasn’t sure I could control the outcome.
    Morelli was five cars back when I stopped for a light. I saw the driver’s door open, saw Morelli get out of the van, running toward me. I gripped the gas canister and prayed for the light to change. Morelli was almost on me when we all moved forward, and Morelli was forced to go back to the van.
    Good old Clarence was still sound asleep, his head dropped forward, his mouth open and drooling, emitting soft snuffling sounds. I left-turned up North Clinton, and the phone chirped.
    It was Morelli, and he didn’t sound happy. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he yelled.
    “I’m taking Mr. Sampson to the police station. You’re more than welcome to follow us. It would make everything much easier for me.”
    A pretty ballsy reply, considering I was having an anxiety attack.
    “THAT’S MY CAR YOU’RE DRIVING!”
    “Mmmmm. Well, I’ve commandeered it.”
    “You’ve WHAT?”
    I flipped the switch to shut the phone off before the conversation deteriorated to death threats. The van disappeared from sight two blocks from the station, and I continued on with my FTA still sleeping like a baby.
    The Trenton police department houses itself in a cubelike three-story brick building representing the Practical Pig approach to municipal architecture. Clearly low on the funding food chain, Police Headquarters has been afforded few frills, which is just as well considering it is surrounded by ghetto, and the location almost certainly ensures annihilation should a riot of major proportions ever occur.
    A chain-link fenced lot adjoins the building and provides parking for squad cars and vans, employees, cops, and beleaguered citizens.
    Gritty row houses and small businesses, typical of the area, face off with the headquarters’ front entrance—Jumbos Seafood, a bar with no visible name and ominous metal grating on the windows, a corner grocery advertising RC Cola, Lydia’s Hat Designs, a used-furniture store with a motley collection of washing machines displayed on the sidewalk, and the Tabernacle Church.
    I pulled into the lot, tapped the phone back on, dialed dispatch, and requested aid with the transfer of custody. I was instructed to proceed to the rear security door, where a uniform would be waiting for me. I proceeded to the designated door and backed into the driveway, placing Clarence close to the building. I didn’t see my uniform, so I made another call. I was promptly told not to get my shorts in a knot. Easy for them to say— they knew what they were doing.
    A few minutes later Crazy Carl Costanza poked his head out the door. I’d made Communion with Crazy Carl, among other things.
    He squinted past Clarence. “Stephanie Plum?”
    “Hey, Carl.”
    His face cracked into a grin. “They told me there was a pain in the ass out here.”
    “That would be me,” I said.
    “What’s with sleeping beauty?”
    “He’s FTA.”
    Carl came in for a closer look. “Is he dead?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “He smells dead.”
    I agreed. “He could use to be hosed down.” I gave Clarence a shake and yelled in his ear. “Let’s go. Time to wake up.”
    Clarence choked on some spit and opened his eyes. “Where am I?”
    “Police station,” I said. “Everybody out.”
    He stared at me in unfocused drunken stupidity, and sat as still and unyielding as a sandbag.
    “Do something,” I said to Costanza. “Get him out of here.”
    Costanza grabbed Clarence’s arms, and I put my foot to