A/N: There's a new poll up on my profile page. It doesn't necessarily pertain to either of my current stories… I'm just curious and feeling things out.
Disclaimer: Characters so far belong to JE and are used without permission. Cities mentioned do exist (and even have bus stations!) but businesses and people are fictional.
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Chapter Eleven – End of the Road
Ranger sat holding his cell for several long minutes, debating with himself, then set it down and rubbed his face. He'd told Steph he'd call his men off the search if she'd promise if she need help she'd call him - and he would do it. But he hadn't promised he'd stop looking. He picked up the house phone and called Silvio. "Did you get anything?" he asked calmly.
"The call originated from a cell tower in Louisville, Kentucky -- same ESN number."
"Get Santos on a plane."
He hung up and dropped the phone on the table. He'd have Lester try to verify Steph's location, but not approach. She might call it cheating but he needed to make sure she was okay for his own sanity. He'd ask forgiveness later.
Sighing, he got to his feet. He might as well get dressed and head to Boston tonight. He wouldn't be sleeping anyway.
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Stephanie had cried herself to sleep after talking to Ranger, but as darkness fell the hotel sign outside her window had come on and the bright blinking light woke her up. She sighed and untangled her legs from the sheets, heading into the bathroom to rinse her face. Her eyes were red and puffy and went well with the greenish bruise on her cheek- she looked like an extra from a horror movie. She needed an ice pack.
First things first - she couldn't sleep with the blinking light. She closed the shades but they didn't block much, so she pulled the bedspread off the bed and, standing on the room's lone chair, tried to tuck it over the curtain rod. It was helping, and she was almost done when the chair wobbled and she threw her hands out for balance. One hand braced against the wall, but the other dislodged one of the ceiling tiles. Reaching carefully, she finished securing the bedspread, then tried to fix the tile -- and saw that on the wall just above it was an old electrical outlet.
She replaced the tile and got down, pulled some clothes on, and went looking for ice. Ten minutes later she was back with a small ice-bucket nearly full and a bottle of Coke. She poured some Coke over ice in a glass, fixed an ice pack with the extra hand towel, and lay down on the bed again.
After a while the ice-melt began to trickle into her hair and she was still thinking about the hidden outlet. Why would there be one above the ceiling tile? Giving up on sleep, she sat up and turned the bedside lamp on, looking around the room with more curious eyes.
The hotel was older than she'd first assumed. It had been remodeled very nicely, but the dropped ceilings had been added. Since the outlet was right over the window, maybe there had once been a window air conditioner?
It still bugged her, and she finally decided her tired brain was trying to tell her something. The call to Ranger had exhausted her… Call. Phone. That was it.
She dug one of the phone manuals out of her purse and turned to the page about caller ID blocking... Yes, there. She could set the phone to block caller ID all the time, and to automatically forward calls to another number.
There wasn't a lot of time-units left on the ONE phone but she could add more from the internet. She set the phone to block caller ID and forward calls to Mary Lou, plugged in the charger, and propped the phone carefully against the support channel in the ceiling. Then she replaced the tile.
It was raining again when she set the little alarm clock and lay back down. She finally fell asleep listening to far-off thunder.
She slept hard but not long, and woke with bloodshot eyes. Makeup didn't help much. She repacked, stocked up her snacks and water and was on the first bus out of town.
For the next four days and nights she rode, sleeping most of the time, getting off only to refill her water or change busses. In the back of her mind she knew it was probably a form of depression but she didn't care. She just wanted to sleep.
The fifth day she was so sore from sitting that she could barely walk. She got off during the early-afternoon in yet another mid-sized town and decided to stay for a couple of days to get a little exercise and do her laundry. She'd call her parents right before she left again. Her mother probably had a lot to say.
There was a small hotel six blocks from the bus station. It took two blocks to get the kinks out of her legs and by the time she got checked in she decided she'd live. Once in her room she locked the door, stretched out on the bed, and slept for three hours.
First on her agenda when she woke was laundry. She dumped her suitcase, gathered her things, and got started. Back in her room an hour later with clean clothes, she turned on the TV for company while she cleaned out her purse. A lot of empty wrappers and loose change had accumulated in the bottom of it, and it was hard to find anything.
Her room was designed for two beds - there were two headboards bolted to the wall - but one was missing. She used the extra floor space and did some stretching exercises, which helped her back and legs quite a bit. And she went for a long walk before she settled on a place to eat dinner.
There was a small public library three blocks from the hotel that had a sign saying internet was available. It had closed for the night, but maybe tomorrow she'd check it out.
The walking had tired her out and she was asleep before it was even dark, and woke very early feeling much revived.
Breakfast was coffee, cereal, and some fruit courtesy of the hotel. She headed straight to the little electronics store she'd spotted and bought another phone, same model, and took it with her to the library. She arrived just as they opened, and was able to use a computer to activate the new phone. Chewing her lip, she opened the home page of the cell company Ranger used, and clicked on the 'send text message' tab… She wasn't too sure if Silvio could trace this back to the computer she used - he probably could - but she hoped it would at least take a while. It took her a while to decide what to say that could be sent in the limited space, but she finally just wrote that she was still okay.
She sent a text to Lula, too, and told her she was developing bus butt, hoping it would make her laugh.
Back at the hotel she dropped her ink pen and while she was on her knees trying to find it, she found an electric outlet nearly hidden by the headboard -- and a hiding place for phone TWO. She called home and got her father - it was salon day, she'd lost track - and let him know she was okay. When she checked out the next morning, she left phone TWO behind.
She left phone THREE in a different state behind a dresser and activated a fourth. From it she could call ONE to talk to Mary Lou, TWO called home, and THREE went to Lula. And just to be careful, she blocked caller ID every time.
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Lester left his suitcase in the control room and just took the envelope of pictures with him to find Ranger. He'd just come back from spending four sixteen-hour days in Louisville, Kentucky trying to track Stephanie and he had a whole new respect for her intelligence and tenacity. But Ranger wasn't going to like what he'd found.
Ranger was in his office. Lester tapped on the doorframe.
Ranger looked up from his desk, blinked, and then the ghost of a smile quirked his lips. "Jeezus, Santos, you look like you were on a bender."
"I felt better the day after that trip to Tijuana," Les retorted, resisting the urge to rub his stubbly face. "But I wanted to get this over with. I can't decide whether to be pissed or proud."
"No sign of her?" Ranger asked, once again serious.
"I found where she'd been," he said, walking to the desk. "She was long gone. Take a look at this." He handed Ranger the envelope of pictures he'd taken of the phone he'd finally located, hidden above the ceiling tile in the room Stephanie had used. It had taken two days just to check all the hotels for someone matching the vaguest description of her. "I got lucky and the night clerk at this hotel remembered her, but I had to swear I wasn't the one who bruised Steph's face before she'd talk to me. It was raining the night Steph was there, and desk clerk loaned her an umbrella to walk to the restaurant a couple of blocks down. She said Steph's hair is short now."
Ranger looked through the pictures then leaned back in his chair. Lester thought he was prepared for every possible reaction, but the low chuckle took him by surprise.
"That's my Babe. You'd think by now we would have learned never to underestimate her." He sighed. "I promised her I'd call my men off searching for her."
"But--" Lester tried, but Ranger interrupted.
"I'm ordering the search stopped," he repeated, "that doesn't mean I'm going to quit looking. She wants time and space and as long as I know she's okay I'm willing to give her that. She is calling someone to check in once in a while, and today she sent me a text message - from the carrier's web page, the little minx."
"Where'd she learn that trick?" Lester asked.
"I have no idea."
Lester shook his head when Ranger smiled again. The man had it bad. He knew Ranger could be a very patient hunter but he wondered how long the man would wait before he went after her.
"Go get some sleep before you fall down," Ranger said. "You can take a few days off, but I need you next week. Do you remember Simon Gates and Jason Caine from Seals?"
"Yeah, why?"
"They're coming in Monday to talk employment. I need you to meet their plane and feel them out a little. They've been working private security in DC for the last couple of years and I'd like you to see if they've changed, unofficially, before they interview."
"Will do." He was so tired he almost saluted but caught himself. Giving Ranger a nod, he headed back to his vehicle. He chuckled to himself in the elevator. Ranger was hiring… That meant he wasn't going to wait very long.
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It was the early hours of the morning on her twenty-sixth day of traveling when Stephanie's bus rolled through Kansas City. She knew it was Kansas City because two guys sitting across the isle from her starting singing "Kansas City Lights" softly, then laughed. She watched the city go by outside the window, a little surprised at the size of it. Parts of the downtown area reminded her of Stark Street. The bus didn't stop and she was glad.
The sun was up by the time they reached the edge of Lawrence. It was a good-sized town with a large college, according to the billboards, but right now it was summer break. Steph didn't care. She just wanted off the bus. She was hot and tired and had been on the bus so long she'd reached the point where it felt strange not to be moving. The hum of tires was a constant ring in her ears. Nothing on earth could make her get back on a bus in the near future.
There was a small booth area in the station with tourist information, and Stephanie found a folded map of the town with places of interest marked. Among them were hotels, restaurants, historical landmarks, and bars. The bus station was marked, too, which let her get her bearings quickly. Most of the 'business' district seemed to be along the same street as the station, and most of the hotels were to the east, so that's the direction she started walking.
It was hot and humid, and the wind was constant. Stephanie was again glad she'd gotten her hair cut short – her curls would have been a giant rats' nest in this weather. By the time she reached the end of the next block she was sweating.
The streets were busy but there were few people on the sidewalks. Most people she saw just went from vehicle to building and back.
It was worse when she crossed the street to head toward the Super-8 sign she could see a few blocks away and was walking in the sun. Her skin felt as if it was frying. When she crossed the street the asphalt was soft in places – soft enough to leave footprints.
If there was smog it would almost feel like Trenton.
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TBC…