Hey guys...I'm REALLY SORRY.

Like, really really really sorry.

Things have been crazy. Finals and school and stuff. And life. Life sneaks in there once in awhile.

And I'm REALLY sorry about the cliffhanger, but I totally warned you! You wanted another chapter, sooo...

Anyway. Here's 10. Working on typing up 13. I'll try to get this story finished this week.

Anyway, I LOVE you all. A lot. Like, seriously. You're the AWESOMEST and the SWEETEST and I LOVE YOU ALL.

~kj

"What do you mean, she's dead?" Lester asked, suddenly as panicked as I was.

"Lester, I don't know. The laptop died."

"Maybe it was a mistake."

"Maybe. Brittany Peterson could be a fairly common name. Maybe she's not the only one."

"Right. I mean, pretty common name."

"Lester, for one second, lets say that it was right and she's dead. What happens?"

"Well, it means that the woman we know is an imposter."

"Right."

"That she has some ulterior motive."

"Shit. What do we do. Do we tell Ranger? I mean, the facts would be right there. He'd have to believe us. But then again, he wouldn't listen to me before. What about now? He might think that I like hacked the search system, put up a fake file about her being dead, and just push me to the side."

"No matter what, I'll stand by you."

"That means a lot, Lester, but he'd know we were in this together. As if I could hack anything by myself?"

"Then we'll really need to do our homework."

Lester and I were both on edge, our bodies shaking and completely run by adrenaline and anxiety at this point. I could have screamed as we pulled into the Rangeman garage. I was nervous and excited, scared and concerned. But I was on the brink of something, and that much I could be proud of.

Lester and I got into the elevator and took it up to the control room. I was holding the laptop tightly to my body. Every second that it took for the elevator to rise seemed like hours. In the two weeks it took "Brittany" to invade my life, I had never been more on edge than now. The break up with Ranger was soul crushing, heart breaking, and utterly mind blowing, but when focused otherwise, it wasn't on the forefront of my mind. I loved him, and that meant that even if he didn't want me anymore, I wanted to protect him.

Right now, I wanted to protect him from "Brittany."

The doors to the elevator finally opened at the control room. Hal and Cal were watching the monitors.

"Hey Santos, you getting a piece of Bomber?" Hal asked.

"Man, shut the fuck up." Lester told him as we walked passed them into my cubical. I turned my computer on and Lester fumbled through my desk until he found a power cord.

"Did you put it in there without my knowledge?" I asked as he pulled it out and connected it to the wall behind me.

"Yes."

"Good job, then." I told him. He pulled a chair over and I moved mine to allow room enough for the both of us in the cubical. He put the laptop in front of my printer on the desk, and let it turn on.

I started the search first. I typed in the same name and got the same file.

It read: Brittany Peterson: 1968-2005. Deceased. I clicked the link and it opened. I started reading, Lester looking over my shoulder.

Brittany Peterson, born 1968, has lived throughout Trenton, New Jersey, and urban cities in New York. A major in Criminal Justice, Investigation, and prosecution, Peterson worked throughout New Jersey and New York as a security specialist. Never married and without kids, Peterson is survived by her twin sister, Alice, who is contained in the Ann Klein Forensic Center. Brittany Peterson died by means of head trauma and suspected manual strangulation by sister Alice, though never brought to trial due to mental instability.

I printed this and put it in a folder and sat on it. Just in case.

"Lester." I whispered. "She's been dead for five years."

"The Ann Klein center is for people who were determined innocent in crimes because of insanity or incompetence to have a trial, or who need special security measures due to the nature of their illness." He whispered.

"Where is it?"

"Trenton."

"So, it's like, right here."

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Oh my god." I whispered.

"Try searching for photos of Brittany Peterson."

I typed her name in the images option and several photos popped up. A few of her crime scene, a few of her in her casket, then a few real pictures take throughout her life.

She looked close to the Brittany we knew, but a little different. I printed out the pictures and put them in the folder beneath my body.

"Search Alice Peterson," Lester whispered, watching the video screen on the laptop.

I typed in Alice Peterson and clicked the first link that appeared. It read:

Alice Peterson, born 1968, has lived in Trenton, New Jersey. Alice was a store manager at a local "Babies R Us" store. Was relocated to Ann Klein Forensic Center in Trenton after being suspect to sister, Brittany Peterson's murder in 2005. No trial was ever held due to mental instability, a supposed extreme nervous breakdown due to stress. Prints of Alice Peterson were found at crime scene for Brittany Peterson's murder. Alice Peterson was never married and does not have any children.

I printed that page out and put it in the folder. I clicked the images tab and several images of Alice appeared. They all looked like the "Brittany" that we knew. I printed out those pictures and put them under my seat, with the rest of the pictures.

I looked at the clock to see that it was just after ten in the evening.

"What do you say we do?" I asked Lester.

"Put the file in the laptop, we close it, we walk out of here, go to the garage, get into the SUV and drive to the twenty-four hour Wal-Mart, and buy a safe."

"Really?" I asked.

"We're dealing with a big case here. I'd say it's necessary."

We did as he said. Closed the laptop with the file between the screen and keyboard. I carried it out just as I had carried it in, we got in the elevator and went down to the garage, got in the SUV, and drove away.

The Wal-Mart, as always, was open. We brought the laptop in with us and asked a sales associate where the safes would be. They helped us find a combination lock safe that was waterproof, inflammable, and big enough for our laptop and several other things. We bought it quickly, not many people were shopping at nine-thirty on a Tuesday night.

We got back to Rangeman and Lester carried the plain box to the apartment floor, while I still carried the laptop.

We got off when the elevator stopped, seeing Tank in passing.

"What is that?" He asked, referring to the box.

"Sex toys! God, Tank, mind your own sex life!" I yelled at him as we walked to his apartment. I unlocked the door with Lester's keys and we went inside. I locked the door as much as I could, then blocked the door with a chair from the kitchen. Lester had gone inside the bedroom and was opening the box and setting up the safe.

I brought the laptop with the folder to the bedroom and sat on the bed as he checked out the safe. It was big and gray, but just small enough to fit in our closet.

"The safe has a self-choice combination." He told me.

"Huh?"

"We pick the combination. What should it be?" He asked.

"I don't know. 68-2-25."

"Why that?"

"Brittany Peterson lived from 1968 to 2005."

"I get it. That works."

Lester set the lock, put the laptop and folder in the safe, and set it in the closet, where it would stay.

He closed the door to the closet and we both sat on the bed, staring at the closet.

"Lester, I'm kind of scared."

"Don't be. We're in this together. Just because I'm your best friend, not your lover, doesn't mean my protection is inferior."

"I want to get suited up. You know? Pocket knife, gun, The works."

"We'll do that right away tomorrow morning."

"What should we do about Ranger? We have to tell him."

"We'll get more information first. We need to visit the Ann Klein center, and get more information on Brittany Peterson's death."

"How are we going to do that?"

"Weren't you engaged to a cop?"

Morelli.