This is my first long story, please bear with me. Trying to tie it together and keep it flowing. A little angsty, I know but still plenty of humor. And I promise, confession or not, Steph will get some action eventually.

I don't own these characters or make money from them.

Stephanie's Point of View

Sunday morning, my last day of freedom before Sister Camilla and the Spanish Inquisition. I had a few errands to run for some of the people on the cruise. Before Ranger left last night he told me he would be over in the afternoon to finish the alarm install.

The girls and I loaded into my car and drove to the Tasty Pastry; we grabbed some donuts, coffee and juice and headed for St. Francis Hospital. When we got there Grandma was sitting up in bed, flipping through the high digit cable channels. "Well lookie here, my favorite girls."

"How's it goin Gram?"

"Thank God it's Sunday and everybody's at church, I can finally get some rest. This place has been like Grand Central, I thought they were gonna hand out numbers. I gotta look good cause Big Jim's coming over before he goes to the Early Bird Special at Denny's."

We put the drinks and donuts on the little rolling tray table and dug in. Gram turned the television to some cartoons and the girls sat down and became engrossed in Sponge Bob.

"So, how's it with you baby cakes, how are you holdin' up?"

"Oh, you know me Gram, just pluggin along. Just working at Rangeman this week, no skips, I promised Val."

"O.K. no chasing bad guys," she said, "but, maybe there's someone else who needs chasing?" She raised her eyebrows and pointed to the yellow bouquet of flowers with the black card in Ella's handwriting. "You don't think those are really for me do ya?" She always had a way to cut right to it.

"Yeah but Grahm, I'm just not sure."

"Stephie girl, Before I met your Grandpa Mazur, I used to ask my dad, when am I gonna meet someone, ya know, who's right for me? And my dad, he used to say, 'Sweetie, get yourself a beau only when you can't think of anything better to do'," and you know, he was right.

"So, what I think you are saying is, you had done all you wanted to do before you met Grandpa and that's why it lasted so long?"

Grandma laughed, "Hell no, baby cakes, that man was a big pain in my ass, but I did love the ol horse's patoot. Ya see, my daddy was right but I didn't listen, I had lots of livin' I should have done before I met him. And you had lots of things you wanted to do before Dickie, or Joe even, so if you aren't sure, just ask yourself 'what better things do I have to do?'"

We ate the rest of our donuts and watched cartoons for awhile, then Grandma turned to us, "now shoo and get outta here, Clara's coming to do my hair."

The girls and I loaded up and made our rounds. One of our last stops was Mrs. Ciak across the street from my parents'. She wasn't on the cruise, but she was in Florida visiting her daughter, and since my mother would usually take care of her plants when she was away, the job now fell to me.

We went to my parents' first and I dug in the frig and came up with a little lunch. I found cheese and tortillas and made some quesadillas. Angie suggested cutting them into little triangles and topping them with some sour cream and salsa, Ole! I may not be a great cook, but it beat the hell out of Taco Bell.

The girls were finishing up their lunch so I decided to run across the street. I felt around on top of the door frame and produced the spare key. The door opened and I gasped. I knew Mrs. Ciak didn't equal my mother in housekeeping, but wow, her standards had really slipped. Drawers were open and papers were tossed about and it looked like she had been rearranging her curio cabinet.

"Uh oh," I said, "this is a crime scene."

I sat on my parents' steps and waited for the cops to arrive. Carl was first on the scene; I crossed the street to hand him the key and Morelli decided to show up, followed by a couple of new guys. "Well, well," I said, "look who took a break from eating my cheesecake long enough to get some work done." Carl took my statement, which basically said I opened the door, looked around, closed the door and called the cops. I turned to walk down the stairs and brushed by Joe.

"What's the matter Cupcake, sugar a quart low?" he said frontin' with the new guys in tow.

"Screw off Morelli."

"Yeah, you'd like that, but I don't need you for that anymore." He looked to the new guys who gave small, uncomfortable smiles. Wow, that was a little mean, even for Joe.

"Whatever Joe, I don't really give a shit."

I continued to walk down the stairs, but he stalked back to me and grabbed my arm.

"You know what's wrong with you, Stephanie Plum? You're not satisfied with what you've got. You always think there's something better out there. Well I got news for you: Prince Charming ain't gonna come for ya, especially when you eat your weight in Tasty Cakes and play hide-the-salami with little brown boys."

So, there it was. I looked at Joe's hand on my arm then looked at Carl. "Somebody better move that hand," Carl walked toward us but Joe released me and I shrugged away and walked across the street.

By the time I got back to Val's it was almost four o'clock. I put the manicotti in the oven to bake and pulled out a bag of salad. Ranger walked in and saw my mother's note on the counter.

Dear Stephanie,

1) Preheat oven to 350 (use that little round black dial with the numbers on it, turn clockwise until 350 is even with the little red line)

2) Leave the foil on and place pan on rack in the center of the oven, bake 50 minutes. Don't forget to set the timer, (the other dial that looks like a little clock)

3) Call Joe and invite him to dinner. I know you will, because he has your favorite you-know-what cake, and remind him to set the tiramisu in the refrigerator to thaw.

Love,

Mom

"My mother, can you believe it, she gave that ass hat my desserts."

Ranger studied the contents of the notes and gave a tight smile, "Well, it's devious, but I have to admire her tact," he said.

I thought aloud, "There are three places he coulda stashed them, I'm guessing basement freezer, I'll know more when I get in."

"You're going over there?" asked Ranger.

"Not when he's home, he's working a big case, he'll never know."

Ranger stared at me in disbelief, "You're gonna break into a cop's house?"

"No, I'm gonna wait till he goes to work and use his hidden spare key."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Probably not, but that's how much I love my mom's pineapple up-side-down cake. Besides, he's fencing stolen property."

"Babe, you know that won't stick, your mother gave him the goods."

"Look, after that close call last night, I think I'm gonna need all the sugar I can get." And I wasn't referring to one of the girls busting us.

Ranger stepped in front of me so we were toe to toe. He waited for me to meet his eyes and his voice dropped low, "I don't know, Babe, you seemed to function just fine last night without any dessert." Then he bent down and gave me a hot kiss on the lips.

When I caught my breath and looked up, Angie and Mary Alice were standing in the dining room staring at us. They broke out in smiles and loudly Angie began and Mary Alice joined in, "Steffie and Ranger sitting in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G. First comes love, then comes…."

"Angela Louise!" I barked, "I started stalking toward her, "Wait till I see that little Michael Potuto on Monday."

"Yeah," Mary Alice, switching allegiances, dog-piling her sister, "Horse's Potuto!"

"Don't call him that, creep!" screamed Angie. We all froze and the room got quiet.

"Angie, shh, I was just teasing."

Her face was beet red as she turned on her sister, "Well, she is, she's, she's always… embarrassing me!" Angie began to sob. "And I don't want to ride to school in a blue whale, or your stupid car!" She turned and ran past Ranger up the stairs and I heard her room door slam.

"Hey," I said to no one in particular, "that car gets 37 miles to the gallon and it's paid for." I locked eyes with Ranger and he tilted his head to the ceiling. I nodded, my shoulders slumped, and I walked toward the stairs.

I knocked lightly on Angie's door but got no response. I could hear her soft sobs and sniffles coming from her bed so I gently pushed the door ajar?
"May I come in," I asked softly. She didn't respond so I sat lightly on the edge of her bed and placed my hand on her leg.

"I'm sorry I teased you, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

Angie quieted a bit and then she began to speak through her sobs, "It's just that, well, I really like Michael Potuto. We used to be good friends."

"Oh, so like a boyfriend?" I cringed, knowing she was way to young to be thinking in those terms.

"No, not even like that, I mean, he is different from the other boys, he's sweet, and smart and funny and we would practice our Spanish together, he's was just my good friend."

"And what happened, why do you say he was your friend? I asked.

"There's this girl at school, see, and she likes him. Like-likes him. She told me I'd better leave him alone, and that he wouldn't like me anyway cause my sister is a freak and she even said some things about you being in the news and all when your apartment caught fire, and how we probably stock up on marshmallows and graham crackers."

"Is this girl named Josie?" Angie's eyes got big and she reluctantly nodded her head.

"Did she say something to you on Friday, when I picked you up at school?" "Yeah, she said your car looks like a Christmas tree, and she started calling me 'jingle bells." I couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Well it is sort of a greenish, brownish, and it has that red hood." I looked at Angie and smiled. Then I just sat there for a long while waiting.

After what seemed forever, she sniffled and mumbled into her pillow, "more like, a Christmas Tree, three months after Christmas," then we both giggled a little.

"Yeah just think, it'll be totally in style come December," I added. Angie sat up and hugged me tight. She buried her head in my arms, "I'm so sorry Aunt Steph, I'm really sorry I said those things to you."

"Apology accepted, but you're gonna have to find a way to accept Mary Alice."

Angie grimaced a bit, but slowly nodded her head "O.K." We headed to the bathroom to fix her tears and my mascara.

RPOV

I sat down on the sofa, opened up Battleship and gestured for Mary Alice to take the blue station. She started to set up her ships silently. Stephanie was upstairs talking to Angela after her outburst in the kitchen. Something was definitely going on with that girl and it looked like there was a boy involved. My mother always told my sisters "boys are nothing but trouble" and was she right. If this had been my daughter, right now I would have the schematics to the little dude's house pulled up on my laptop working out the abduction so I wouldn't wake the parents.

I looked over at Mary Alice. She seemed to be un-phased by the whole event.

"Ladies first," I gestured.

"B 2," she said.

"Miss."

A few toys were scattered where she had been playing on the floor. It looked like a Super Friends convention gathered in a top-secret meeting. Robin and Wonder Woman were front-and-center de-briefing G.I. Joe and Commando Ken. Batman was a few feet away wrapped in Wonder Woman's golden lasso, with his head sticking out of an empty Kleenex box.

"E 5." You got this Manoso, start in the middle, canvas in a circular pattern.

"Miss."

I looked at the lonely figurine again and had to ask, "What's up with Batman?"

"He's in trouble, he's having a timeout in the hot box," said Mary Alice.

"He must have done something really bad." I'd been thrown in the hole before, but I'd also concocted some of my best escape plans there.

"D 4, no, he was naughty to Wonder Woman." Hmm, but sometimes naughty can be good.

"Hit." Crap. "That doesn't sound like him," I said.

"Yeah, he's usually the good guy, but then I heard my mom and Aunt Steffie talking about him in the kitchen the other day while I was coloring, and I figured he needed a time-out."

"They were talking about Batman?" I asked.

"Yes, and it's your turn," she said.

"Um. A 1."

"Miss."

"Now what about Batman?" I repeated.

"Yeah, they talk about him all the time when they're drinking wine." Now I was alert, I looked at the stairs and asked in a whisper, "What did Aunt Steffie say about Batman?"

"C 4."

"Hit." Crap, "You were saying?"

Mary Alice looked to her left and right then whispered, "Batman disappears all the time. My Mom told Aunt Steffie it must be because Batman is 'a motionally unbehaveable,' or something like that. It's some sickness you don't want to get."

Shit. "I see, G 5."

"Miss." Of course.

"Like one time, the mean General Brusy was after Wonder Woman and Batman went to her house to guard her that night, but then the next day he vanished, and she was not happy, C 3." I warily put the red peg on my cruiser, "Hit," I said. Mary Alice squealed and clapped her hands.

She continued, "Then Batman said if Wonder Woman didn't like it she could go play with the Joker and have him guard her, which don't make no sense cause everybody knows the Joker is NOT a superhero." Oh crap, I knew exactly what Stephanie had been talking about with Valerie. That woman isn't gonna let me live that down. I called out another coordinate and Mary Alice lightly giggled, "miss." Who the hell chose this game?

As if I hadn't been tortured enough, Mary Alice kept talking, "Mommie told Aunt Steffie Batman must be that way from the 'a motionally unbehavable' disease, and once you get it, you never get better, and Wonder Woman should forget about Batman and think about Match Dot Com, B 4."

Mother, sonofa, faaaa. I hung my head

"Are you alright Sarge?"

Kid, if you only knew, "You sunk my Battleship."

Mary Alice continued, completely un-phased, "Wonder Woman said she would still work with Batman, but something about never sharing her pie with him ever again."

My jaw tightened, "A. TWO," I regulated through clenched teeth. The white peg between my fingers snapped in half. My heart was racing in a panic, and I knew it wasn't from the game. Mary Alice called "miss" and I silently mimicked her with a sour look on my face.

"When did you hear this?" at least go for second prize and get the info.

"It was Easter, I remember cause Aunt Steffie came over in a pretty dress and had black eye stuff all over her cheeks. She told my mom the Joker was caught kissing Cat woman. And now Wonder Woman has moved all of her things out of the Joker's lair. And my mom, I remember this, because she said a naughty word I can't repeat, my mom said 'Wonder Woman never should have listened to that 'blankety-blank' Batman.'"

I didn't want to think about the ethicality of eliciting information from a 7-year-old but she was a wealth of knowledge and normally, I'd have to use my maglight on a kneecap to extract this level of intel.

"Is Wonder Woman, ya know, did she use the Match Dot Com?" I asked casually.

"Um I don't really know what that is, do you want me to ask aunt Steffie?"

"No, no, no! We don't want to bother her with all the stuff going on with your sister." I opened my eyes wide and pointed upstairs.

We continued on with the game in almost silence. Mary Alice had managed to find all of my ships, probably because I had them all linked together to form a pixilated letter "S" in the middle of my grid.

"Just one more question," I looked at action figure Batman suffering in the hot box, "if it's been a few weeks, why is Batman still locked up in the hole?"

Mary Alice leveled a look at me, and her eyes got very serious, "cause nobody gets away with being naughty to Wonder Woman."

The game was finished; she had won, so I peaked over to see what configuration had caused me to fail so miserably. My back stiffened and I stared at Mary Alice. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yeah, hangman's gallows, cool isn't it?"

Wow, out of the mouths of babes. My Abeula used to say, "you can't fool kids, and you can't fool dogs." Mary Alice is proof of that, and apparently, you can't fool Stephanie Plum. She thinks I'm an emotionally unavailable asshole and her sister is encouraging her to cut her losses, and move on. This situation cannot stand. I was going to have to stop dragging my ass and do something about it.

Stephanie descended the stairs, followed by a formerly teary-eyed Angela. Ella had just arrived and all the girls met in the kitchen in a little pow-wow discussing the dinner plans before Stephanie left. I said goodbye to Ella and to the girls and walked with Stephanie out the back door. She seemed a little nervous, like she was waiting for me to leave and she was being very secretive about what she was doing and where she was going. Not that I needed to know, I had no claim on her, but my radar was going off and my curiosity was peaked.

"Can I give you a ride somewhere?"

She looked nervous and shook her head and walked a little faster. "No, s'okay, I'm good, but thanks."

"C'mon Babe, I'll drive you," I said.

"No really Ranger, I can get there myself."

"I know you can but I want to talk to you about some things, and this is as good time as ever."

"Ranger, this isn't a good time for me," she said forcefully. "And, you know, I'm kind of busy with the girls this week, but maybe we could catch up after Friday." She gave me a forced smile.

"O.K., How about dinner then?"

"Yeah, maybe, but right now I gotta go."

I held up my hands and stood back. There were few things Stephanie Plum wouldn't tell me. They usually fell into two categories: dangerous and Morelli. But she had promised her sister she wouldn't chase skips or do anything reckless. As far as Morelli, she had been broken up with him past the expiration date and he had been seen out with other women, lots of other women. That left a third option I didn't want to consider, maybe she was seeing someone else. She opened the cab door and got in.

Stephanie's Point of View

The Church of Our Lady of Guadeloupe was two blocks off Stark in a neighborhood that still had a little hope left. True, many houses had disguised bars on their windows and were small, but they were neat with orderly yards and in that area, the street was mostly quiet. Most importantly, I was ninety-eight percent certain none of the Priests would know me.

I had the cab drop me off for my covert operation. I got into my purse and took out a brown hat with a floppy wide brim and large bug eyed dark sunglasses. I hiked my handbag up on my shoulder like a shield and ducked into the side door. The church was old. Our Lady was originally called St. Michaels but had morphed from Italian to Spanish over the last few decades.

I entered the sanctuary and gave my eyes time to adjust. With the dark glasses on, I had to strain; I crossed myself with holy water and knelt in a pew a few rows back.

The church was laid out like so many built in that era. The main doors opened into a foyer and a second set of double doors opened to a large center aisle that ran straight up to the altar, rows of pews on each side.

There were also two wings that had smaller sections of pews. In one wing, the pews faced the Tabernacle where the little white wafers were kept and congregants took turns praying in perpetual adoration. The opposing wing housed the baptismal font, and the confessionals, three closet type doors in a row with little lights above each door. If a light was lit above the door, the room was occupied.

The center light was lit which meant the priest was in and ready to hear my confession, and just my luck, both closets were empty and nobody else was waiting to go in. I wouldn't even have time to be "on deck," I would enter and right away be up to the plate. I slipped my phone out of my bag and brought up my newest app. Being from Jersey I thought I'd seen everything but "Sin No More" was proof ingenuity was alive and well. It was a phone app that guided you through figuring out where you have failed miserably in you life and how to throw yourself on God's mercy. And it had Spanish translation.

I said a prayer for courage and slipped into an empty closet and dropped to the kneeler in front of the little privacy screen. In a moment I heard the whoosh of a second screen being slid open and the Priest began to speak in Spanish. So far my plan was working. I would give my confession in Spanish, best I could. He would give me the absolution and my penance and, ta-da, clean slate.

The Priest began in the Spanish tradition, "Ave Maria purísima" (Hail purest Mary) His voice was low and kind, and even with the screen between us, and in the small space it felt very intimate.

I looked at my phone and gave the appropriate response, "Sin pecado concebida" (conceived without sin)

"Hace cuanto que no te haz confesado?" He was asking how long it had been since my last confession. I scrolled through my phone and found the response.

"Que ha pasado cinco anos." (It has been five years.) He waited.

I creatively admitted to my sins in a mis-mash of Spanglish, referring to the app when I needed. I can't be certain but here's what I think I said:

"I have taken the Lord's name in vain," an ongoing battle.

"I have not kept Holy the Lord's day," unless you count Christmas and Easter, a little vague on the timeline.

"I have dishonored my mother," by refusing to marry Joseph Morelli and have a bunch of kids, although doing so would get me off the hook on the next sin, the biggie.

"I have had impure thoughts and actions." Way more impure thoughts, and nowhere near enough action. This sort of covered all the bases, I didn't feel it was necessary to give specifics like 'monkey sex' or 'shower massager', it was sort of understood, I thought. Besides, this one always confused me. I took adultery to mean never have sex if only one of you is married. This left out the whole singles hookups, booty calls, and friends with benefits clause. Since the writing was vague, I took a "don't ask, don't tell" approach to this commandment.

"That is all Padre." I breathed a little sigh of relief, this was going better than I thought, just give me the punishment, I'll take the wrap, say the five Hail Mary's and be on my way.

He acknowledged my admittance in Spanish, and then asked if I had anything else to add. "Y hay algo mas?" (There is something more?)

Now I hadn't expected this question, and I don't know where it came from, but I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and before I knew it my lips were moving betraying me and I didn't have the app ready so I spoke in English, "well, since my last confession, I shot a man, and, well, he died, Maté a un hombre." (I killed a man)

Oh crap, where had THAT come from?

The privacy screen went dead silent and I was getting a little worried, then I thought I heard him whispering in a low voice and I was wondering if he was on his cell phone calling the Trenton Police Department, Homicide Division.

I heard him take a breath and then he fired off what I thought were questions in Spanish, but I did not understand. I was typing quickly on my phone, trying to translate, my hands were shaking nervously and I fumbled my phone and it fell somewhere beneath the kneeler out of sight.

"Slower, por favor, no entiendo." (Slow, please, I don't understand)

He spoke again, slower, but I still couldn't grasp the question.

"No entiendo." (I don't understand). Why had I opened my big mouth? "Please," I said the only way I knew how, "I'd like to retract that last statement."

Then, he shocked me when, in perfect English he spoke.

"Forgive me Miss, but I must have clarification." The gig was up, no more language barrier to hide behind. He understood perfectly what I was saying and vice-versa.

"What were the circumstances leading up to such an event? Did you intend to shoot the man?" I sighed heavily.

"Yes, Father, I was trying to shoot him."

"Was your life in danger?"

"Well, yes, maybe, I thought it was," I said.

"Were you engaging in any criminal activity at the time?"

Aside from carrying a concealed handgun and aiding a fugitive from the law. "No."

"Please explain." He coaxed.

"I was attempting to apprehend someone."

"You are a police officer?"

"No, bond enforcement agent." Great, now he probably knows who I am.

"The man shot me and was holding us at gunpoint."

"Us?"

"Me and the skip, he was there."

"So you saved a man's life." I didn't answer.

"Senorita, I cannot allow you to repent your actions for that day. It is written in Ezekiel, 'But if the watchman sees the sword coming and does not blow the trumpet, and the people are not warned, and the sword comes and takes a person from them, he is taken away in his iniquity; but his blood I will require from the watchmen's hand.'" The sword was coming for you, my dear, and no blood from you He will require."

A tear ran silently down my cheek and pooled in the rim of the large sunglasses. I focused on his voice trying to still myself.

"You don't need forgiveness, you need assurance." A small sniffle escaped, and I took in a few deep breaths.

"The Lord instructs us to preserve human life. In Psalms he says 'Rescue the weak and needy; Deliver them out of the hand of the wicked." A lump formed in my throat. This is not what I intended. I did not want to face this, not now, not ever.

He continued in the strong soft voice, "Proverbs says 'Deliver those who are drawn toward death, And hold back those stumbling to the slaughter." He was trying to assure me about using my gun to be a deliverer to Joe, but my mind drifted to the image of Ranger walking into my apartment armed with only a flack jacket. And in that moment I was able to somehow understand why Ranger did the things he did, from tracking my car to pushing me away, and I was no longer upset with him for not being able to tell me that he loved me. I tried to swallow the lump and another tear fell down my cheek.

"I can see you have carried this for too long, Seniorita, which tells me you do not seek the help you often need. Asking for help is not a weakness. For your penance, say one Act of Contrition, and for this week, when you need help, ask for it, and if any help is offered to you, you must not refuse it. And now I give the absolution. En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo. Amén."

As I exited the closet, a small Hispanic woman slipped in behind me. Two others were waiting now and the other door had the light on. I slid into a pew in the main section about halfway back and released a large sigh. I finished my prayer and just stayed kneeling there for a while. My elbows were propped up on the pew, and my forehead rested on my steepled hands. My eyes were closed in quiet contemplation and I could hear the people pass in and out of the confessional closets, kneel, then whisper their prayers.

A number of people had arrived for Mass and there was some activity on the altar. I walked to the statue of Mary and put some money in the little drop box. I lit a candle for my Grandma in the hospital, I lit a candle for Ranger my deliverer, and I lit a candle for Jimmie Alpha. A group of women gathered by the Tabernacle to pray the Rosary and the organist started playing a few random notes. I noticed the Priest exiting the confessional. He was young, handsome even, with wavy dark hair and deep-set eye, not what I had envisioned by his voice. He started walking my way and I panicked, thinking he would know who I was, but he kept his eyes set on the altar and walked right by me as though I wasn't even there.