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CHAPTER 6

Present Day New Jersey

Stephanie pulled the sapphire blue Porsche Macan into the garage and exited on the run. She'd stayed longer than she intended in Sofia's kitchen. Before she entered the Bat Cave, she turned to give a quick admiring look at her little blue car. Even though her trip today had been business, looking for the slightest clue that would help her find Corrine, she had enjoyed her drive. The Macan had been Ranger's wedding gift, and it was such fun to see it parked in her assigned space between two black RangeMan vehicles in the garage at Haywood. Yes, she was part of RangeMan, but the all black rule didn't apply to her. Ranger'd given her a very pretty car, one that she was determined to keep from an early death by explosion. He'd said it matched her eyes, which thrilled her—not because she was so vain she needed a car to match her eyes—but because Ranger would think to make the comparison. He was a closet romantic, and her mission was to bring that side of him to the surface.

As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, her nose perked up at the aroma of freshly baked bread. On the counter was a note from Ella telling her what was waiting for her to serve her husband. Tonight's entrée was coq au vin, with homemade rolls that were still warm in a bread basket on the counter. In the fridge was a nice endive salad to start the meal and a caramel flan to finish it. She read the instructions, looked at her watch and offered a prayer of thanks for Ella.

By the time Ranger was home she would have everything under control. She still felt a little off center from the near-meltdown she'd had yesterday. The situation hadn't morphed into a full-blown battle, but they'd been close. She wanted a conflict-free evening with her husband, an evening of quiet talk and good food, and lovemaking. He'd know, of course, that she was setting a scene, and he'd figure out why, but she knew he'd appreciate the effort. Not that it was that much effort … what would she do without Ella?

Later, when she was eating Ranger's portion of the caramel custard, she casually mentioned her trip to Newark. "I spent some time with your mother today," she told him as she slipped a spoonful of the dessert into her mouth. She let the flavor play on her tongue for a bit before she swallowed.

"You were in Newark?"

"Yeah, I was tracking down a lead on Chase's sister," she told him.

Ranger's eyes widened. "You have a lead?"

"I thought I did," she said as she scooped up another spoonful of the flan. "Turns out it was a dead end." She grimaced at her choice of words. She didn't want to think Corrine was dead. "Tank suggested I compare her description to that of Jane Does from the year she disappeared. I haven't done that yet."

"There's a search program specifically tailored for that," Ranger said. "It's available at RangeMan, although it's not used much. I can take a look at it for you."

Stephanie set her spoon down and smiled at her husband. "Thanks," she told him, warmed by his offer to help. "But, I can do it. I put it off, because I don't want to think she's dead. I want to find her for Chase, and…"

"I know you do," Ranger interrupted. "But if the news is bad, he deserves it as quickly as possible, to see if there's another option out there for his son."

"There are no other options," Stephanie said. "I know Chase pretty well and he wouldn't be here asking for my help if there was another way. He's more of a giver than a taker."

"That's right," Ranger said. "He was your lover, so I imagine you know him pretty well. Why don't you tell me about him?" He pushed back from the table and leveled a stare at Stephanie that had the caramel custard roiling in her stomach.

"I'm not taking the bait, Mr. Mañoso," she said flippantly. "You're trying to intimidate me and make me tell you about an ex-lover. And what's sauce for the goose …" Ranger frowned as if he didn't understand her comment. "What I mean is, I'm sure you've got plenty you could tell me about your ex-lovers."

"You know about Rachel, and Grace," he told her. "My past romantic life is an open book."

She sputtered. She wasn't sure, but she thought he was teasing her. She pushed back her chair and started clearing the table. She could leave it for Ella, but that didn't seem right, so she stacked up plates and took them to the sink. Ranger remained in his chair watching her every move. After she rinsed the last plate, she turned and pointed at him. "If your past romantic life is an open book, then it's a journal with a lot of empty pages! There's not one open thing about you, Ranger! Are you telling me you've only ever had two lovers? What happened to the girl who took your virginity when you were only fifteen?"

"I'm not telling you anything, Babe. I'm sitting here waiting to see if you have anything to tell me."

"You mean about my past romantic life?" she asked. He inclined his head once.

"Then you're going to be waiting for a long time. I hope that chair is comfortable." She turned from the sink and came back to the table to wipe it clean. Her strokes with the wet cloth were short and quick, her lips were pursed and her eyes looked anywhere but at Ranger. As she moved close, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down on his lap.

"I am baiting you, Babe. And I'm sorry. I shouldn't play with you. Your life before me isn't any of my business, but if you want to tell me…" His breath fanned the sensitive spot at the base of her neck and she shivered.

"I can tell you about Chase," she offered. "I wasn't hiding my past. It's just that it was so far past and so irrelevant to my present life, I never thought to talk about it. But I think I've mentioned him to you before, maybe just not by name." Ranger raised an eyebrow.

"You know I have a motorcycle license," she said. Ranger nodded. "And you know," she continued, "that a guy I used to date taught me how to ride—Chase is that guy. It was a long time ago, ancient history."

"Babe." Ranger raised his hand to her mouth and let a finger outline her lips. His eyes took in her face and what she saw there—desire—warmed her from the inside out. "I'm sorry, Stephanie."

"It's okay," she said. "I knew you were teasing me, about Chase."

"I was," he said, "but that's not what I'm sorry about. I told you last night that I apologized to Chase. Now I want to apologize to you."

"It's okay, honestly, you don't…"

"I do. I should have told you I thought there was a stalker. I didn't because I know you are still dealing with the last situation."

"Terry," she stated.

"Yes, Terry. I thought by keeping it from you I could spare you the anxiety and pain."

"I know," she told him, shifting her weight and settling in comfortably on his lap for what looked to be a serious conversation. "I appreciate that, but…"

"…but we're partners and we're in this together. I should have told you," Ranger said. "Maybe you'd have been able to recognize Chase and the confrontation at Pino's could have been avoided."

"Maybe," she agreed.

"So," he said softly, "I'll try to be more transparent. I'll try to keep you apprised and not take control from you. I can't promise I'll be perfect, because my instinct is to neutralize anyone causing you harm."

"Neutralize?" she gulped.

"Neutralize," he affirmed. "Turns out, Batman likes being part of a dynamic duo, Babe."

She stood and held out her hand to him. He took it and stood, and she wrapped her arms around him. "Did you just infer that I'm the Boy Wonder?" she asked him.

"Just a wonder, Babe." He tilted her chin up and kissed her. "Let's go upstairs."

"That sounds good," she said. "I want to tell you what I've got planned for the room at the end of the hall … for Julie."

"That's not exactly what I had planned, but I can work with it. We haven't christened that room yet, and it has soft carpet."

"Eeeww, Ranger! We can't have sex in your daughter's bedroom. That's creepy."

"It would be if it was her bedroom," he agreed. "But it's not her room ... not yet."

Later, when they were in their bed, their conversation turned back to Stephanie's search for Chase's half-sister. "What's your next step?"

"I guess I'll do the Jane Doe database search," Stephanie told him. "But I won't find her there. I just know it. And then I'll start over because I've got a feeling there's something I'm missing." She shook her head and frowned. "I have to find her."

Ranger had a feeling, too. Something was niggling at the edge of his memory. He wondered if there was more to the story than they knew or they'd been told. He'd wait to see what she came up with, but he might have some searches of his own to run.

...

"Hey, Chase," Stephanie said, shifting her phone to her left hand so she could drive with her right. "How's your son?"

"Eric's in the hospital, again," Chase told her. "Sylvia and I are here with him. His red blood cell count's low, so he's getting a transfusion." He was silent for a few moments. "I don't know, Curls. I'm losing hope."

Steph's heart ached for her old friend, but the best way to help him was to push on with the task he'd given her. "I'm so sorry. And I'm sorry for asking, but are you up to discussing Corrine? I'm about ten minutes from Newark."

Chase sighed. "Yeah, we can meet, but I don't know what else I can tell you."

"I have some questions, and they may spark your memory," she answered. They agreed to meet at the hospital. Steph hung up and concentrated on negotiating the crowded streets of Newark.

They met in the waiting room on Eric's floor, but there were people coming and going and it was distracting. Stephanie needed Chase to concentrate and remember the past. She suggested they talk in the chapel, if it wasn't being used. His wife Sylvia stayed behind, in case Eric needed her.

After they settled in the back pew, Stephanie began. "I'm having no luck finding even a hint of Corrine. I've spent countless hours in front of the computer, running search after search, refining the search categories and key words, and I'm still coming up empty. I've spent an equal amount of time on the phone, calling various state and federal agencies, local police departments, city morgues and educational institutions, among others. I've come to Newark numerous times, talking with the Newark police, the two high schools Corrine attended, and Ironbound's Portuguese community. And nothing!"

Chase looked totally defeated. "That's the same result the two PIs I hired had. They couldn't find a trace of her anywhere."

"I don't think Corrine used her real name after she left Newark. Do you know of any other name she went by or that she might have used? A grandparent's name or a family friend?"

"I think her father called her Renie," Chase said, "but she got upset when Mom called her that. I can't think of any another name, first or last, that she might have used."

"I don't think I'm going to find out what happened to Corrine through normal investigative channels," Steph told him. "I spent a lot of time trying to get into Corrine's head and mindset and, I don't know, I just have a feeling. That's all it is—a hunch. But I feel it's worth trying. However, I need a little more information."

"Shoot. Throw your questions at me, Curls."

"Corrine's Portuguese, right?" Steph asked.

"Her father emigrated from Portugal when he was a young man," Chase confirmed. "Our mom was Irish, but I doubt if Corrine knew or even cared about that."

"Okay. I got a sense from some of the people I talked to in the Ironbound that her father was really tied to the Portuguese community, to being Portuguese. Do you think Corrine shared that same connection, that passion?"

Chase considered her question. "I'm not sure. But I dated a Portuguese girl before I met Sylvia and when she introduced me to her family, she said I was the first non-Portuguese man she'd ever brought home. And her family was very surprised and suspicious of me when they found out I was Irish and not Portuguese."

"So, you're saying you think most Portuguese Americans maintain close ties to their heritage?" Steph asked.

"That's been my impression. Corrine said she joined the Portuguese gang in her old neighborhood because it was expected of her, but I think she was trying to avoid falling into that same pattern when she came to live with us."

"Yeah, but was it the gang she was trying to avoid, or being identified as Portuguese?" Steph probed.

"The gang. Definitely," Chase said.

"That would jibe with what I've found. I thought, maybe, when she ran away that she might have returned to her gang, but I talked to the former gang leader, and he said that, after she moved, he never heard from her again. So, I don't think the gang life had that strong a hold on her. But I was wondering about her Portuguese heritage and how important that was."

"I'm not sure. When she first moved in, she rarely said a word to any of us. She'd just come home from school and lock herself in her room. Then, after school let out for the summer, she changed." Chase's eyes widened and he looked up suddenly. "Corrine went to summer school. I'd forgotten about that. She started taking some class at Eastside in June and she seemed happier. She even started spending more time downstairs with us. I remember her talking about Portuguese stuff like food and drink and celebrations, with pride. She even made us a special dinner on Portugal Day. She dressed up in a costume: a long-sleeved white blouse with a colorful jumper over it. I remember telling her she looked ridiculous, and she flipped me the bird." Chase grinned at the memory.

"So, she was proud of her heritage. What is Portugal Day and when is it?" Steph asked.

"It's in June. I can't remember the exact day. Corrine said it was a time to celebrate some historic figure from Portugal, but mainly, it's to honor their Portuguese heritage, I think."

Steph made a note of the event. "So, what are the chances that Corrine would have gravitated to another Portuguese community after she left here?"

"I don't know. She was really missing her father those last few weeks. Her grief seemed to catch up to her and overwhelm her. I don't know if that was why she left, but I know, by the end of summer she was really down. She was close to tears most of the time. Back then, I chalked it up to her being a teenage girl, but now, it seems it was more like grief and sadness. She had a framed picture of her and her dad, and those last weeks she had it out a lot. I know she took it with her, because we looked for it when we reported her missing, trying to find a recent picture of her."

"Okay, she was grieving for her father, but would that influence her to seek out other Portuguese communities?" Steph asked.

"Who knows? But it seems as good a shot as any," Chase said. "What do you have in mind?"

"When I talked with the leader of Corrine's Portuguese gang in the Ironbound District, he said many of the gang members came from other Portuguese American communities. They seem to be a tight-knit population. I did a little research, and most of the Portuguese communities are centered in this part of the country: New Jersey, New York, Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Connecticut. But there are also large populations in California and Hawaii, with much smaller concentrations scattered throughout the country."

Chase looked aghast. "How do you expect to find one little blonde needle in that large of a haystack? We don't even know if Corrine would have gone to live in a Portuguese community? Hell, we don't even know if she's still alive." Chase shook his head and then dropped his face in his hands, rubbing ferociously. "This is impossible. We're never going to know what happened to Corrine, let alone find her. And there's no guarantee that she's a match for Eric. I'm sorry I got you involved with this, Curls." He turned to look at Stephanie, waves of remorse, pain and anguish emanating from him.

Steph put her arm around his shoulders and squeezed. "Don't give up, Chase. I honestly think we are on to something here. I want to give it a try."

"Give what a try?" Chase asked, a frown marring his face.

"Road trip, baby, road trip." Steph sat back and smiled.

"You want to travel cross-country, searching the hundreds of little pockets of Portuguese neighborhoods that dot America?" he asked, incredulously.

"Give me a little more credit than that. I think Corrine hitchhiked out of Newark. You said she had no money, so she couldn't pay for transportation, so no buses, trains or planes. I think she left via Interstate 80 or 78 and went west. I think she would want to get away from this part of the country as fast as possible. Look at her: she was miserable and everything that made her miserable was here. I think she just wanted to get away, to blend in, to disappear. That's what I would have done. I say we follow those interstates and stop at places that seem likely, concentrating on regions that have high populations of Portuguese immigrants."

"We?" Chase looked quizzically at her.

"Well, me," she clarified.

"I couldn't let you go alone. I'm going with you," Chase told her.

"What about Eric, and your wife?"

"If we find Corrine, we have to convince her to get tested and then, if she's a match, get her to come back with us. That's my job. She's my sister, my blood. When do we leave?"