Disclaimer: Everything familiar belongs to Janet Evanovich. Plot and mistakes are mine.

It was late one night when I got a call from my office. I was already in bed taking a last look through my emails and skimming through all the major news stories from the day. At first I debated answering. It was probably a new hire wanting to look good by working the extra late hours. Too bad I wasn't exactly known for being polite when it came to disturbing my personal time. Guess this poor soul was about to experience all that first hand.

"There better be a darn good reason for this call," I growled into my phone.

"James, it's me," came a soft reply.

It was Lisa, my personal assistant. Basically she was my spare brain in human form. She kept me as organized as humanly possible and was worth her weight in gold as far as assistants were concerned. She was smart and sassy and capable of smoothing things over on the rare occasion I overdid it on an interview. And she also knew better than to call me this late.

I sat up in bed. "What have you got for me this time, Lis?"

"How much do you know a about that local bounty hunter case?" she asked.

I thought for a moment. The news had been littered with all the gruesome details when the story first broke several months back, but a lot of the press circus had died down rather quickly. Rumor had it that there was a suspect being held at the state prison, but beyond that, details remained uncharacteristically vague. My guess was that someone was paying some major bucks to keep things quiet. And other than a little morbid curiosity, I hadn't really been interested in following the story further.

"Not much," I admitted.

"I've got a file here that I've started for you," she said. "I'll drop it by on my way home."

I glanced at my bedside clock. Just after midnight. "Why do I need the file, Lis?"

"You got a call this evening."

"And?"

"There's a man who wants to see you."

"So you went ahead and agreed to the meeting without consulting me first?" I was only partially serious with the tone of the question. I trusted Lisa with most spur of the moment decisions, and she knew it.

"Just go with me on this one, Jimmy. Read the file. You've got a meeting tomorow at ten."

"Willing to gamble your job on the value of this meeting?"

There was a moment of silence. "Job's not that great. My boss is kind of a slave driver. And I haven't had a bonus in over a year."

"Mmm. I see. Sounds like a real piece of work. Want me to have a word with him?"

"Nah, I've got leverage if I need it."

"Oh?"

"Don't worry about it. I've gotta tie up a few loose ends here and then I'll drop the file by your place. Think you'll still be up in thirty minutes?"

"For you, I'll be up another thirty-five minutes."

"Good deal. Later, Jimmy."

The call ended and I made my way out to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. I was in the middle of organizing some of my notes when I saw my phone light up. I buzzed Lisa in and waited at the top of the stairs. She was nearly doubled over when she made it up to my floor.

"You really need to have someone take a look at that elevator," she panted. "Six flights of stairs on limited sleep could probably kill someone." She handed me the file.

"This it?" I asked thumbing through the pages.

"For now. We'll add to it as necessary. I have a feeling what's in that file is probably barely scratching the surface on this one." She stood with her hand on her hip and watched me for a minute. Then she sighed. "I don't know, James. We might be in over our heads on this one."

I raised an eyebrow. "Then why'd you rope me into all of this in the first place? You know I've got enough going on right now to keep me plenty busy."

Lisa turned to leave. "Just looking out for you, I guess. Besides," she said over her shoulder, "it wasn't all me this time. That man in the folder? He specifically asked for you."

I watched her disappear down the stairwell. Then I opened the file again. As far as I could tell, I didn't know the face staring back at me. Naturally I was curious why this individual had personally chosen me to confide in. My vanity wanted me to believe it was because of my brilliant reputation, but even I knew my reputation wasn't that good. Something else was the driving force behind all of this, and come ten o'clock tomorrow morning, I was about to find out what.

The next day I woke up and decided to dress business casual for the day. I grabbed the file from my nightstand and decided to swing by Dunkin Donuts on the way over to the meeting. It wasn't my first time going to the prison, but I figured I needed something sweet to balance out the dreariness of all the steel bars and barbed wire. I grabbed a coffee and Boston Cream to go.

As I pulled up to one of the guard stations, I flashed my badge. He waved me through and directed me to some public parking spaces. I took a look around and cringed. Huge guard towers encased the grounds casting daunting shadows that made it feel like even the sun wouldn't want to linger long in this place.

I continued on to the main entrance where I passed through enough metal detectors and security to make me safe enough to meet the pope. Guess the guards wanted to make sure that nothing unscrupulous would be taking place between me and my new buddy.

I followed a guard down a long corridor to the window visit room. I was asked to deposit all my personal belongings into a plastic bin that I could retrieve once the visit was completed. It was strange how naked I felt without my wallet and phone. However, I was permitted a notebook and pen along with the file I'd been carrying with me all morning. Guess paper products were on the approved list.

I walked into the room with all the windows and phones and was led to the last seat against the wall. My new acquaintance was already situated across from me.

The man sitting in the chair looked different than the picture from the file. His complexion was Hispanic with medium skin and smooth, dark hair. He'd let it grow out, and it was currently tied in a low ponytail. A rough beard grew along his jawline and there was a noticeable scar above his left eye. His posture exuded power and control; his eyes were fixed on the floor.

I took a seat and picked up the phone. The man across from me didn't respond. It took all my willpower to keep from saying something, but I kept repeating what Lisa had told me in the car.

"Let him talk first," she'd said over the phone. "Remember he sought you out. Don't ruin everything by jumping the gun."

So we just sat. No talking, no eye contact for what felt like an eternity. Then I thought I saw his shoulder twitch, and his gaze suddenly met mine. The intense stare made my blood turn cold.

"Your dad ever talk much about his days in the military?" he asked. His voice was gravelly and rough.

"Not really," I answered.

"Smart man." He paused then shifted in his seat. "Talked about you all the time."

I stared at him a moment. He couldn't have been much older than forty, and I had a hard time seeing him in Special Forces with my dad. Especially so young.

"So you knew my dad." It was more of a statement than a question.

He gave an almost imperceptible nod in response. "Good man."

I now had a pretty good feeling my dad was the reason I was sitting across from this enigmatic stranger. And I definitely had a growing list of questions, but I knew I needed to let him lead the conversation. I was worried if he didn't, this meeting would soon be over.

"You read the papers?" he finally asked.

I nodded. "Kind of my job to know what's going on."

"So you know about the girl."

I held up my file. "My assistant compiled a bit of background here, but I have to admit, the story's been kept quieter than most. It almost feels like a ghost story. Give it a few years and it might even turn into urban legend."

"No offense," he said darkly, "but I don't have a few years."

"You haven't had your trial yet."

"Let's just say I've got a pretty good sense about these things."

We sat staring at each other for several more minutes. "So…" I started hesitantly, "how exactly do I fit into all of this?"

"I need someone," he said looking at me as if peering into my soul. "Someone I can trust. I was hoping that someone would be you."

I frowned. "Why do I have a feeling that's going to be a pretty tall order?"

His face remained taciturn and dark. Then his posture shifted and I wondered if he was contemplating ending our discussion. "Maybe I misjudged you. Maybe you're not the man I've been looking for."

Eventually I shook my head and sighed. "No, you've found the right man." I opened my notepad and grabbed my pen. "You got a name you want me to use?"

He stared at the floor again. "You can use the only name that means anything anymore. I go by my street name here. Ranger."

The name was an old military nickname. I recognized it almost the moment I heard it. But the way it cut through the air around us made me think of something far more treacherous. Like he was summoning something dark and dangerous from the past.

I readjusted my posture in an attempt to make myself more comfortable. "Ok Ranger, what do you want to tell me about the murder of Stephanie Plum?"

His eyes met mine again as he leaned forward. A shiver of anticipation ran down my spine. "Everything."