Stephanie's POV

3

Into the Night

The plan was set. The time was right. It was the night before my court date, and still every little breath of air from the room where my ex-husband died screamed that I had killed him. Yes, I felt warm and fuzzy all over at the prospect of The Dick being dead, but I was innocent. And a lot smarter than Morelli: I didn't leave right away.

I grabbed my purse off of the counter in my kitchen, and carried it to my bedroom. I dumped its contents out onto the bed, and picked out each and every one of the seven bugs that were feeding information to the Rangeman control room. Then, I grabbed the electronic items, just my cell phone - since I didn't have anything else that could be tapped - and placed them on my bedside table, right beside my alarm clock, which was set for two hours before when I had to be to court. I smiled to myself. That little tidbit would keep them guessing for awhile, if they were smart enough to notice it. And every moment they pondered my alarm clock, was a precious moment farther back on my trail they fell. I almost giggled, but then remembered the active bugs on my bed.

I would concede Ranger one thing. His habit of wearing all black had an obvious perk: it was very easy to get lost in the night. And that was exactly what I was after. I didn't know if any Rangeman employees would be watching for me, and worse, I didn't know what I'd say if there was and they caught me. But I wasn't going down without a fight. I hadn't killed my ex-husband, no matter how happy the thought of it made me, and I wouldn't go down for his murder. And if Ranger was mad I had gotten past his security experts. . . . Well. He could kiss my butt.

I quickly changed into a Rangeman tee, left over from the days when I had worked for Ranger, and slid on a black jacket. I pulled on some black yoga pants, and the knee high black converse sneaker-boots that while I knew had amused my friends immensely when I bought them, were my best chance at getting out and to my goal quietly and efficiently. I grabbed my small clutch, about the size of a wallet and holding only my driver's license and one hundred and thirty-five dollars. I stuffed the clutch into the pocket of my jacket, which I immediately zipped up, and then eased feet first out my fire escape. Everything seemed important in this moment. Every excruciating detail, every movement in my peripheral vision and every shape in the distance. My feet eased onto the metallic floor of the first landing. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. If anything was to go horribly wrong with my plan, now was the time. Just a few minutes - no, seconds later, I was on the last of the ladders, and dangling about a foot about the cement. It was a soft landing.

And then it was just a matter of running.

I positively hated running. Ranger had only managed to drag me out to run a few times, but he'd never seen me as determined as I was now. My converse boot clad feet hit the sidewalk with a soft and rhythmic, thud . . . thud . . . thud. . . . For half a mile, I ran down the streets, not stopping until I'd come across what I was after.

Goldenrich was a street in the 'Burg area that was as completely different from the 'Burg as it could be while still being the same town. People didn't like to gossip, they were more concerned with their own business to care about anyone else's brats, and that was why I knew it was the perfect place to saunter up to the pay phone, insert two quarters, and enter a Vegas cell number.

"Frost, it's time. . . ."

Frost, whose real name was Alex Frost, was a Navy Seal on leave when I met him in my second year of college. He had gotten drunk, his girlfriend dumped him, and I lent him a place to crash while bunking in the bed on the other side of the room with my roommate, Amana Cruz. Frost was a golden boy: blond hair, blue eyes, slight southern accent, perfect, gentlemanly manners, and I had developed the habit of calling him Superman long before I met Ranger. Ana was a five foot one inch tall Asian-slash-Hawaiian girl majoring in playing the obo and speaking French, with neon red hair. And our friend Wolf was a short kid with not a whole lot of brains but a heart of gold and an endless supply of weed. All together we were the wackiest group on campus, and we all felt sad every time we had to say goodbye to Frost when he returned to the Navy.

Now, the four of us were crowded together in the same sunshine yellow Volkswagen Bug Ana had had since high school. Alex was in the back seat with me, Ana driving, and Wolf was complaining in an endless stream about how my feet smelled terrible, since they were propped up on either side of his chair. The bug crawls southwest of Trenton, and when we were finally passing the outskirts of town, I looked over my shoulder to watch the rest of the lights from the city I'd grown up in, fade out behind the horizon as dawn blushed across the sky in an endless expanse of hope.

Hoisting one finger up into the air in a classic 'battle roar' position, I shouted, "Onward, faithful servants! We'll be there is no time!"

And while Frost hit me over the back of the head for the whole, 'faithful servants' spiel, he muttered under his breath, "Especially if Ana drives the entire time."

And so my friends and I rode off into the sunset. And I was blissfully unaware of the panic already sweeping through not only the 'Burg, but the whole of Trenton thanks to the Merry Men, and their not so merry boss.