Disclaimer: Not being paid. I do not own the characters that belong to Janet Evanovich, nor the Plum World. I am inserting a few characters that are used to drive the story along, that are of my own making. End Disclaimer.
Summary: Canon thru 13. Dark and against. A 16 year old boy sets out to find his biological parents, and brings more than just himself to Trenton.
Behind Closed Doors
Chapter 1
A little over two years ago, just before the age of fourteen, Ezekiel Butler, ran away from the people who claimed to be his parents. He had suspicions of being adopted since he was ten. Six months ago, his suspicions had been confirmed. His life with the Butlers had been a living hell, and a secret that he never wanted discovered.
By chance or by fate, a mere thirteen months ago, happenstance and good luck had smiled upon him. Meredith Whitmore, a lawyer, had given him advice. Advice he had taken to heart, seeing as she had gone over all the legalities that he needed in order to seek: Removal of Disabilities of a Minor.
Now at the age of sixteen, Zeke sat behind the table with that same lawyer waiting for his fate to be decided. For the last two years, he had been living on his own away from his adoptive parents. He had a job and had shown legal right that he could seek emancipation in the state of Texas. This was the last time he had to come to court, and he sat on the edge his seat waiting for the Judge to issue the orders.
He wanted his sixteenth birthday present to be his freedom. He waited for the Judge to look up. Meredith Whitmore had done more than anything he could ask of her to do. Zeke had scrimped and saved every bit of money, so he could hire a private investigator to hunt out his biological parents. He had the report in the folder sitting in front of him. Now, he needed the Judge to give him his birthday present, and he would be gone. Zeke would be heading to Trenton, New Jersey to find his birth mother and maybe his birth father if she would tell him who he was. The private investigator, Judson Walker, had been really discrete when he had broken into the adoption records for him at the place where they had been kept. There was a copy of the letter in a file that his adoptive parents were supposed to give him at the age of twelve, they never did it.
The Judge looked up.
"Emancipation granted," He slapped the gavel down and the loud thud rang out in the court room.
That sound would forever be branded into his memory. For Zeke, it was the sound of freedom. Zeke couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. He looked at Meredith. She was smiling as well.
"Well, you know what you're going to do now?" Meredith asked him.
"Yup. Had that worked out six months ago." Zeke stood. He was not quite six feet yet, but getting closer.
"Good luck with that Ezekiel." Meredith stood and shook his hand.
"Thanks for all the help. I couldn't have done this without you and Judson." Zeke said.
Meredith walked out of the courthouse with him. He had the old, worn, backpack with the folder inside it now ready to leave. There was nothing stopping him. He also had a copy of the court documents the Judge signed. It had been two hours before they had gotten the court papers that he needed so no one would question him. He had two thousand dollars saved up, from his main job, and his hobby of writing music. Zeke had gotten his GED at fifteen, so he didn't have to go to school anymore. His motorcycle as well as his motorcycle license had followed shortly.
"So you're heading to Trenton?" Meredith asked as she walked with Zeke down the courthouse front steps and out into the parking lot.
"Yeah, I think it's time I met my real parents." Zeke said.
He stopped by his bike an old, blue and white, Yamaha 250, and swung his leg over then sat down. He looked up at Meredith.
"You sure are traveling light."
"I don't need much. I got money, and a few changes of clothes. I can't ask for more. I got my independence from the Butlers. That's all I wanted. Thanks for the birthday gift Meredith." Zeke stuck out his dark tanned hand.
She shook it. "Just remember, if it doesn't work out. You can camp on my couch if you need a leg up."
Zeke picked up the black helmet and covered his dark, curly locks, that hung to the middle of his shoulder blades. He looked at her with his dark-blue eyes. "It's okay. Even if it doesn't work out. Who knows? I might like the place and decide to stick around."
He started his bike, flashed her his bright white smile, then rolled the bike off the kick stand. He backed it up and then turned the wheel to head for the road as he let out the throttle. At this moment, he felt free, alive, and with a little over fifteen thousand miles to get his destination. He flipped the blinker on, waited for a car to pass then turned onto the street. Zeke pulled the gas tighter and headed for the highway. He wanted distance from his old life, the life he was leaving now, to the one he was headed to.
Zeke finally pulled over in Memphis, Tennessee. The ride had been long, and his body ached for it, having driven since he had left Dallas, other than stopping for gas. He looked for a hotel, and found one that had a vacancy sign shining and pulled in. Shutting off the bike he got off. His legs felt like jelly as he walked around and stretched trying to get the blood flow to come back before he fell over. Zeke walked inside to the manager office and paid the thirty-five dollars for a room to the night clerk who was working. He took the key to room fourteen and left. With the key in the door, he opened it up and slipped inside. He shut the door behind him and sat the backpack on the bed. Zeke pulled out the folder again. He lifted the sheets of paper until he found the letter. The one his real mother had written sixteen years ago.
Hey,
I don't know your name. I don't know where you live, or anything about you. I was a kid when I had you. I hope the parents who adopted you have given you the life that I couldn't have at the age I was. I just wanted you to know that this was for the best. It may look like I'm taking the easy way out of things, but I wanted you to know, if I could take it back. I wouldn't. It would give some other couple a chance to have something they couldn't on their own.
Zeke lay the letter aside. He pulled out the picture of a woman whom the PI given him. He looked at her curls, and her blue eyes. Now he knew where he got it from. The Butlers didn't resemble him at all. He thought all along that he was adopted, and they told him lie after lie about it. Zeke stood up and walked over to the dresser and pulled off the t-shirt. He looked at the multiple scars he had across his stomach and chest. He turned and saw more running down his back.
He looked at the letter that lay on the bed. "I think I would have been better off with you." He threw the shirt down and stalked off to the bathroom.
After the shower, he walked back out in his boxers and sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the phone. He reached over to the folder and pulled out the contact information. The receiver of the old phone was crème colored and cold as he picked it up, then punched the numbers on the push buttons and waited. He had done this for the last six months, always at the same time, almost every day, since he had been given her information. Zeke hadn't been able to say a word yet to the answering machine he got and had hung up on those occasions. When she had answered the phone, several times and heard her voice, he hung up as well, even with the male voice he heard he did it too.
"Yo," He heard the male voice answer, but not the one he heard before.
Zeke looked at the phone and then put it back by his ear. Zeke swallowed and then hung up.
"God I'm a chicken shit." He hung his head. He looked back at the phone and then dialed the number again.
"Yo," Came the male voice again.
He could hear her voice in the background. His pulsed quickened, but the longing pain of belonging remained. "Ranger, hang up the phone. The person never says anything."
Zeke hung up the phone.
"What kind of name is Ranger?" Zeke shook his head, "Now. Why couldn't I have said that in the phone?"
He picked up the phone and dialed. His voice didn't sound normal. It was hollow, worn out, and tired as he felt. "Okay this is easy. I can do this. Just relax. Take a deep breath. It won't be that hard. Sure I've been dialing for the last six months at the same time but hell it's not like I don't have a damn good reason."
"What is your reason?" Ranger asked.
The wrenching in his gut along with the lump of panic that was forming in his throat left him floundering for an answer to the question he heard.
"Shit." Zeke hung up the phone and flopped back on the bed.
In Trenton:
Stephanie looked at Ranger, one of the two men in her life. This man happened to be the most mysterious one. However, the mystery that surrounded him had slowly fallen away with time and her ability of being curious enough to find the answers. Not that all the mystery had been explained.
Ranger was his street-name. His real name was Ricardo Carlos Manoso. His lists of assets were many: former Special Forces, business owner of RangeMan, LLC, that placed him in the bracket of security specialist. He was also a land owner, with properties in several states, all dealing with the business; he was also a single father; his daughter Julie lived with her mother and her step-father in Florida. The mysterious part about him was the vehicles, all new, shiny, and black and his ability to replace them quickly when something happened to them.
His masculine prowess by far was his better asset that Stephanie had found hard to resist at times. He was sex walking, there wasn't anyone else like him. He didn't fit into the standard box, and the mold was broken after he had been born. Ranger was a dark, Latino male who had dark-brown hair, currently that had grown since he had cut off his pony tail at a time when he had to go into hiding because of life-threatening issue. He had dark-brown eyes, a 200 watt smile, a chest and a set of abs that were well developed. He slept naked which Stephanie had first-hand knowledge of. On top of it all, he was addicting, and being around him drove that addiction higher, since she hadn't been sexually sated by this alpha male in awhile.
That had been for a good reason because of her sometimes on again and off again boyfriend Joe Morelli, a Trenton plainclothes detective. It had been nine months since Ranger had gotten shot in her apartment, her and his daughter had been held hostage here. Ranger had come in and saved them. She had realized then; she loved the man standing before. How much she wasn't sure, nor to what degree. During those months, Joe had backed off. Joe had told her, if she came back to him one more time, it would be the last time. He wanted a wife, and she needed to make up her mind which man she truly wanted. Stephanie still hadn't come to that conclusion yet, because which ever way she chose: it felt like either man would make it final.
Ranger's dark-brown eyes held a sliver of amusement. This was something Stephanie had started noticing about the mysterious man. It was the slight crinkle on the edges that gave it away. This intrigued her. Ranger was a man of very little emotions and very rarely even seen. His life didn't afford him the chance of letting his guard down. Not that this was equivalent to letting his guard down.
The caller apparently had amused him. For Stephanie, it got to her nerves that she could only hear silence or cars in the background. The person never talked.
"Well?" She asked Ranger.
He sat the phone down.
"Male." Ranger's slight twitches of the upturned ends of his mouth gave the equivalent of a grin. "He was giving himself a pep talk. He's your caller for the last six months. Said he had a damn good reason. So I asked, and he said shit and hung up."
"Great! Then it's not the normal nut I have after me. I like the hang up stuff better. This doesn't look good if he has to give himself a pep talk." Stephanie walked into the kitchen and pulled out a beer.
Ranger followed her. "You want me to answer again tomorrow night?"
"Might as well, at least he spoke with you. I haven't gotten anything." Stephanie said as she took a drink from the beer.
"Are you getting any bad vibes from this caller?" Ranger asked.
Stephanie tilted her head to the side and thought about it, "Believe it or not, no. It's just getting irritating."
"Did Morelli put the trace on the phone?"
Stephanie nodded.
"Yes, but he's never stayed on long enough to get anything. You've had him on the longest. Joe told me to change my message to a longer one. I did that yesterday. So we'll see."
"Be careful Babe. Even a pep talk caller for you might be bad."
Ranger turned and left the apartment. Stephanie leaned on the counter and tapped the hamster cage. Rex was moving around in his shavings, then stuck his whiskers out and his beady black eyes followed.
"Well Rex, he spoke. This is new, even for him." Rex wiggled his hamster bottom and feet until he was under the shavings once more. "Guess you're not interested huh?"
The phone rang again, and Stephanie walked over to it and picked it up. "Okay you little pep talk caller, either talk or quit calling."
"Hello to you to Cupcake." Joe laughed on the other end. "I was going to ask about the caller. Where did the pep talk stuff come from?"
"Oh it's you—Ranger came over and answered the phone. He called twice and hung up, the third time he was giving himself a pep talk."
Joe laughed, "That narrows down the suspect field a whole lot. Male, we already pretty much had that figured out. He sounds more like a chicken shit to me."
"Well, he's an annoying little chicken shit. He does it every night at the same time. At least, he spoke this time. Ranger is coming back tomorrow to answer the phone again. He hadn't spoken for me or you, so I don't know. It's just driving me nuts."
"I'll come over, and we'll put him on the speaker phone this time and see if we can't clock it long enough to get a trace. Let me call and see if he was on long enough to have traced it. I'll let you know. You want to go to Pino's for lunch tomorrow?"
"Sure, let me know tomorrow at Pino's. Pizza will do me good if you get anything." Stephanie hung up the phone.
She finished off the beer and tossed it in the trash.
"Just another normal day in the life of Stephanie Plum." She said as she headed into the bedroom.
In Memphis:
Zeke lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. It took him a year to figure out how to get away from Jeff and Virginia Butler. He was always watched like a hawk by the both of them. It never mattered what he did, even the smallest things got him a beating. They had said he was evil, had the devil in him, and it had to be excised out. He ran his hand down the scars across his chest and the others across his stomach.
The Butlers ran a church; The Temple of Light; and Zeke didn't buy into the stuff Jeff had preached from the makeshift tent. They had several followers. Close to a hundred. The church had moved around in several states. That was because Jeff was smart, Zeke would make a few friends and then get to talk to them and find out that other people didn't believe the way Jeff and Virginia did. He moved his hand away from the scars. He didn't have to worry about them anymore—they couldn't hurt him. Not again. He was his own man now.
Zeke sat up and pulled the folder over to him and put everything back in it. He laid it on the nightstand beside the hotel bed. He saw the headlights of several vehicles pull into the parking lot as the shadows they cast moved across the walls of the room. He moved over on the bed and opened the backpack. That was when he heard the music. His heart jolted, then kept time with the drum beat that pounded out of the speakers as the thrum could be felt inside the room. The cymbals clanged, and his body shook as his heightened senses rose in level. The melodious sound of the flute started. It was no song bird to him. It was a caw of black bird in his mind.
He scrambled for the jeans on the floor, his legs slipping into them at the same time he pulled them up and shoved his feet into his tennis shoes. His heart frantically raced as he grabbed his backpack. Zeke moved to the window and pulled a sliver of the curtain back and saw the church van. He swallowed hard. They had followed him. He didn't think they would do that. The Judge said he was free from them. He had the papers to prove it.
His eyes darted to the office, and he saw the silhouette of the man, Jeff Butler, the Lord of the parish of The Temple of Light. Zeke looked at the van and could see his Lady seating in the passenger seat. He watched as Jeff walked out of the office toward his bike.
"No. Not my bike." Zeke hissed.
He reached up and made sure the door was bolted.
Zeke watched as Jeff bent down, and he saw the liquid as it dripped on the concrete.
"Fuck!" Zeke murmured. "That's mine. You evil stupid shit."
When Jeff lifted his head, Zeke let go of the curtain.
"I've got to get out of here." Zeke reached down and scooped up the t-shirt off the floor and ran to the bathroom. He threw the shower curtain aside and opened the small window. His heart pounded as he hoped he would fit through it. He pushed the window up as far as he could manage, and he heard the knock at the door.
"Ezekiel, you can't run from redemption."
Zeke's eyes widen as the fear hit him like an incoming tide. The voice; that was the voice that filled his nightmares and that fueled the flames of panic. He scrambled to the window and shoved his head through the only escape route he had. He pushed one of his arms out, and the other arm wasn't coming because of the backpack. Zeke went back in the window and shoved the backpack outside and then worked his upper torso through the small opening. The pounding loomed behind him, and he heard the crack of wood.
"Redemption comes for those who are in need."
He pushed with his hands against the cool concrete brick on the outside of the window as he tried to pull his hips through the tight fit. His heart felt as if it had come into his throat as he heard the splintering of the wood give way.
"Thy deliverance draws near. The day of salvation is at hand Ezekiel."
Zeke gave one last shove and pushed in desperation as he kicked and flailed about his feet, and he fell out of the window onto the hard rocky ground below. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed his backpack and ran for all he was worth.
"The light shall always expel the darkness of your iniquity Ezekiel. The Lord shall send his messengers to me, and I'll seek to purify your body for the cleansing. The Lord will have what is rightfully his, Ezekiel."
Zeke turned his head back and saw Jeff leaning out the window, yelling, and shaking his fists in the air at him. He tripped and fell onto his knees and pushed himself off the ground and slung his backpack over his shoulder and didn't look back anymore. He ran and turned corners after corners in blind trepidation as he fled. Bending over at one corner Zeke tried to catch his breath as the people of Memphis made their way around him. He stood, and heard as a few people gasped and gawked. Zeke looked down and realized he had no shirt on. The backpack fell from his shoulders, and he pulled the t-shirt out and slipped one on.
He started rummaging through his backpack. He still had the money. The keys to his bike would be useless now. Jeff would take it; they wouldn't leave it at the hotel. He became frantic when he couldn't find the folder.
"No! No! Oh God no!" Zeke said.
He dumped the contents on the sidewalk and howled out as he remembered where he had put it—on the nightstand by the bed. The room in which the horror of his past had stalked him.
"Fuck!"
Zeke put everything back in the backpack. He knew the phone number; he didn't need the paper to know it anymore. He liked looking at all of it though, because the paper seemed to make it more real, more obtainable. She was real, obtainable even if it was a great distance. He stood and put the backpack on his shoulders, and he walked on at a slower pace. Jeff would find it; he knew Jeff would find it. Zeke knew that Jeff would go to Trenton now, knew they were after him, but now he had involved the woman who had given him life.
"Shit, what am I going to do? Jeff will find her. He'll want his vessel back, and he'll do everything to her to get me back." Zeke kicked at the sidewalk as he continued on, knowing it was hopeless. Hiding wasn't going to be good enough anymore. Zeke picked up his head looked across the street both ways and crossed it. He had no choice but to get there before Jeff.
Jeff pulled his head back into the window. He breathed in deeply; he could still smell the scent of the non-cleansed vessel in the air. It had been too long since he smelled this divine aroma. His lungs filled with the blissful scent that was the rush of fear and dread. Jeff expelled his breath slowly, and drank deeper of the air again as it gave him the means of calling the messengers to him. Closing his eyes he hummed the tune that had been ordained from the messengers, the tune that had made him into 'The Instrument' the tune that would call forth 'The Instrument' to surface within him.
Jeff Butler was the low, humbled, and worthless creature that had walked in the den of iniquity in this world. His humility and wretchedness had been visited one night by the messengers. He would never forget that night; it was the night that God had touched him. The forked tongue of the almighty had rained down from heaven. It was the act of God when the lightening hit him, and in that stark clear electric surge, he had seen the messengers. The first was the messenger of Wisdom; he had spoken of another that would come soon to him as well. The second was the messenger of Vengeance. It was with the help of these two that 'The Instrument' had been called forth within himself to become the vessel that would cleanse and rid the world of evil.
The low and worthless Jeff Butler shuttered as he felt 'The Instrument' rise within him. He opened his eyes as he felt the tingling along his fingers, his flesh rippled with the passion of being 'The Instrument'. While he was 'The Instrument', he could do no wrong, because he was the vessel, the vessel that had been cleansed and purged the world from the den of iniquity. Ezekiel was destined to be like him, and the messengers of Wisdom and Vengeance had spoken, and 'The Instrument' would do-what was ordered from the heavens.
They had told him Ezekiel was the true vessel, the finger of God. They had said Ezekiel would go through a tested period. He had been foretold of Ezekiel denying what he was destined to become. However, one-day Ezekiel would be the true vessel, and 'The Instrument' was to purge him of his wicked ways, his deceitful nature, and his denial of becoming what he was meant to be. 'The Instrument' would truly cleanse him then Ezekiel would change into the finger of God.
'The Instrument' turned and moved gracefully out of the bathroom. His sharp eyes scanned the room. 'The Instrument' never missed anything; he and only he would find the things that Ezekiel had left behind. He moved around the room, and his sight landed on the folder on the nightstand. He stalked toward the folder and picked it up. 'The Instrument' opened the earthly foul wretchedness of Ezekiel's possessions. His eyes scanned the pages, one after the other. 'The Instrument' knew. He had knowledge, and he laughed, a warm laugh, of seeing the mother who had birthed Ezekiel.
Her eyes bore the resemblance of the chosen one, but her face was marred. It was this imperfection, this loathing imperfection that he had to cleanse out of Ezekiel, that mirth and glee in her face of a woman who still walked in the den of wickedness. He sat on the bed and picked up the phone and dialed the number. When the answering machine picked up; he listened to the wretched evil voice.
"The finger of God shall be born. 'The Instrument' has been given the power from on high. No woman of wickedness shall stand in the way of this Divine calling. Leave the vessel alone who is wandering in search of his real destiny. Repent and seek redemption so your vile nature will quit calling out to the un-cleansed vessel of the finger of God."
'The Instrument' hung up the phone. He sat there and closed his eyes as the shutters over took him and Jeff Butler came forward to take his place. Jeff opened his eyes and looked down at the folder and shut it. It held the contents of evil, and he couldn't allow himself to look at it. He stood and walked out of the room. He would have to put it in a place that 'The Instrument' would find and use this knowledge for the purification of Ezekiel.
In Trenton:
Stephanie sat up in bed and listened to the male's slow unnatural voice as it recorded on her machine. That didn't sound like what Ranger had called the pep talk caller. She didn't think anyone needed a pep talk to do that which was left on her machine. She reached up and pulled the curtains aside on her bedroom window, the last time she heard a voice like that she had found Lula tied to her fire escape. Benito Ramirez had stalked her, threatened her, and she had been in fear for her safety. She didn't see anything but the rain-soaked windowpane. The thunder clashed with a loud boom as the lightening forked outside her window. She shut the curtains, jumped out of bed, and pulled every pot and pan that she had out and stacked them in front of her front door. She grabbed the cookie jar that held her gun, and Rex's cage and took them into the bedroom with her.
Stephanie sat Rex down beside her bed; he had gotten off his wheel and was looking up at her.
"I know how you get when it's storming outside and strange voices get left on my machine." She told him as she moved to her bedroom door, shut it, and turned the lock. "What? Don't look at me that way. It's not as if I'm scared. Why would I be scared? Stuff like this happens to me all the time. This is more to keep you company so you won't panic or anything."
Stephanie went back over to the bed, crawled in, and pulled the covers up to her chin. When the next crash of thunder rolled down, she pulled the covers above her head and tried to count all the different lipstick colors to go to sleep. She had finished all the Revlon, Maybelline, Max Factors, and Cover Girl products, and sleep had eluded her. Stephanie pulled the covers back down and looked at the clock it was 5:00 am in the morning.
The storms from last night had finished, and she sat up on the edge of the bed and looked down at Rex's cage. He was not on the running wheel anymore; he had his butt sticking out of the soup-can that was his home. She went to the door of her bedroom, unlocked it, and headed to the bathroom. No one had broken in, and it really had turned into an uneventful night other than the lack of sleep. Stephanie turned on the shower, stepped in, and lathered her head with her shampoo. She scrubbed away at her head when she heard the pots come crashing down. Stephanie yelped, pulled back the shower curtain, and grabbed a towel.
Intruders into her apartment had been a common occurrence for years. It was something she had grown accustomed to if one could actually fathom of doing that, with having your personal space invaded. Without fail, she had one nut after another breaking into her apartment. Sometimes she knew them, sometimes she didn't. Two intruders she knew rather well: Joe Morelli and Ranger. The ones she didn't know always seemed to revolve around her job being a Fugitive Apprehension Agent, or Bounty Hunter as the common term of what the profession was called on the streets. She had drawn crazies into her life, that was for sure.
This was her dilemma; any normal woman would love to have two handsome men breaking into their home. Stephanie had felt the two of them were more in sync with each other these days than she was with either of them. She stood with her hand on the knob to the bathroom door and listened. She prayed it was one of the two men in her life and not a deranged mad man. Stephanie couldn't hear anything. It was too quiet. She turned the knob, opened the door, and looked out. Joe was standing in her foyer scratching his head and looking at the mess on the floor in front of him.
Joe Morelli was everything that was Italian. He stood six feet, black hair that curled at the ends when in need of a trim, and dark-brown eyes that turned a delicious shade of chocolate when he was in the bedroom. Everyone in Trenton agreed that Joe had the best ass, something Stephanie could attest to, having seen it on several occasions uncovered. He had taken another lateral shift seven months ago; two months after Ranger had gotten shot in her apartment. His job hours had kept them apart, something she thought he had done on purpose after their last relationship talk, which flooded her mind.
Stephanie woke up in a cold sweat. Ranger had once again been a staring actor in her dreams. It had been the blood covered Ranger and her heart breaking in fear as she had seen him take that bullet. Her heart had stopped beating. This wasn't just her mentor and friend anymore. He had become more than that. She loved him. She was afraid that he would be stripped from her, and she didn't know how to handle it. The tears started falling as she felt the arm enclose around her shoulders.
Joe pulled her into his arms. "Same dream?"
She could only nod. She felt him stiffen as he held her.
"This isn't going to work Stephanie. You need to figure out what you want." Joe said as he comforted her. "I can't just have part of you. I want it all. I know what I want. I love you, and I want to marry you. You need time, and you need to make a choice. I'm going to give you your space. If you come back to me, it's for good this time. No more playing games. You let me know."
He held her for awhile longer, and was paged to head into work. That was the last serious talk they had had. She still was unsure of what she wanted.
Stephanie came out of the memory and asked. "What happen to lunch?" They may not be in a romantic relationship anymore, but they were still friends.
He looked up and saw her, "Lunch is going to get canceled. I got called out at one this morning. I got a double homicide going, and I have to go to the coroner's office for the posting of the bodies." Joe pointed down to the pots and pans. "New form of burglar alarm?"
"I thought I'd try it and see if it works, it worked real well." Stephanie said. "Look, I need to get this shampoo out of my head. Give me fifteen minutes."
"You don't look like you slept last night." Joe observed from where he was at.
"Listen to the answering machine." Stephanie shut the door, locked it, and got back in the shower.
She was dressed in the clothes she had on last night minus the panties, because she wasn't about to put those back on. Stephanie walked out of the bathroom. The pots and pans were picked up, and she saw Joe seated at her small dinning room table. She walked over and sat down. He was drinking a cup of coffee and had another cup waiting for her with the pot sitting on a pot holder. She wasn't sure where he found it in her kitchen, since she hadn't seen it in months.
"Well?" She asked as he sipped his coffee and was studying her over the rim of it.
"Memphis."
"Excuse me?" Stephanie took a drink of the hot liquid and hoped the caffeine would kick her into overdrive, so she could get through the day.
"Peterson said the call came from Memphis, Tennessee." He pushed the folder over to her with her records of calls last night.
She saw the last number and the number that was circled. The one that was circled was in five minutes of the time from the normal hang up caller who always made at that time. The one forty minutes later the last call was from the same number. The strange voice and her hang up caller had used the same phone.
"I called the number, got a hotel, the man responsible said he wasn't aware that anyone had called long distance last night and would check the phones. He's supposed to call Peterson. You need to call Peterson and hand over your little tape. He's a sick nut case. I don't know how you step into stuff like this. However, I won't be able to make it tonight, don't answer your phone Cupcake. You don't need to be talking to this nut." Joe said.
He downed the rest of his coffee and sat the cup down.
"Ranger is going to answer the phone. I'm not answering." Stephanie said.
She watched as Joe stood up. "You want me to take the tape with me?"
"No, I'll drop it off."
Joe looked at her, "Be careful, please. I hate it when things like this start happening to you." He turned and walked out of her apartment.
Stephanie sat there and drank the coffee while she looked at the telephone number. Ranger had heard his voice. She hadn't, and Ranger would be able to recognize it. She went to the phone and called.
"Yo. It's six in the morning Babe. You either want me to make you exercise because you can't snap the button on your pants, or you need something."
"The latter. I need you to come listen to the phone message I got last night and tell me if it is the same caller." Stephanie said.
"There."
Stephanie hung up the phone, one of these days she was going to get him to say goodbye, but it wasn't going to be today. She was dressed by the time he came into her apartment. Ranger was standing by the answering machine and pushed play when she came out of the bedroom, and the voice filled the air all over again. His face was devoid of everything, and she couldn't imagine what he was thinking much less, feeling.
He looked up at her. "That isn't pep talk. This is someone else."
Stephanie went back into her bedroom and pulled the phone records off her dresser and carried them back to Ranger. "Same phone number."
Ranger looked over the phone records and then back up to her. "You got scared over this one. You didn't sleep either."
"How do you know I got scared?" Stephanie asked.
She knew her eyes were bloodshot, and she looked like she hadn't slept at all.
"Rex isn't in the kitchen, neither is the cookie jar." Ranger nodded to the bedroom.
"Rex gets afraid of storms." Stephanie turned around and headed for the bedroom. She picked up Rex's cage, turned, and saw Ranger leaning on the doorframe.
"Babe."
That was all he said. Her name, but Stephanie could hear just the slight concern in it. And it was that which had spoken volumes. Ranger didn't show much emotion. He hardly showed any at all. Her life had been one roller coaster of upheaval ever since he had gotten shot. Ranger always told her if Joe wasn't in her bed, then he would be. Ranger also told her after she went to visit him, if she wanted him, he would be waiting. He had been waiting right along with Joe, both of them had not made any further advances. It was rather scary; considering the attraction; she had to both men.
"Alright, so I was scared." She walked with Rex back toward the kitchen. Ranger had let her pass him. The scent of his Bulgari shower gel clung to the air around him, and she inhaled deeply as she passed.
"So, what do you think about your caller now?" Ranger asked as he moved into the kitchen with her and leaned up against the counter.
"Which one?"
Ranger waved the paper. "I'm not talking about pep talk, you said you didn't get any bad vibes from him. I'm talking about the religious nut who called."
Stephanie sat Rex down, turned, and looked at Ranger. "That one gives me the creeps. I don't know what he's talking about, I don't know any vessel or un-cleansed vessel."
Ranger sat the phone records down and crossed his arms over his chest. "Same number, maybe he means pep talk. Either way it was a warning to you."
"It's not like I can do anything about it. I'm not the one who keeps calling." Stephanie told him.
Ranger gave her a slight grin. "I'll be back tonight. Maybe I can get pep talk to talk some more."
Stephanie watched him walk out of her apartment and decided there really wasn't anything she could do about it. These things just happened.