Author – PinPin [mciupin13 at yahoo dot com]
Rating – R : strong language, eventually some violent and sexually suggestive content (no smut)
Disclaimer – I do not own the characters, etc. I am only borrowing them from Janet. (plenty of originals will pop-up later) This is not for profit, just for kicks.
Notes – post EoT, directly following book 11. Babe, but Cupcake respectful.
***SPOILER ALERT*** Spoilers for all books, especially EoT.

Stephanie Redux – Chapter 21

I stretched and luxuriated in Ranger's decadent sheets for a few minutes before the aroma of freshly brewed coffee drew me to the kitchen. Ranger smiled softly when he saw me. He was camped at the table, finished with his PT and freshened for the workday, not a hint of the late hours he'd kept the night before. I was wearing a t-shirt, bags under my eyes, a rat's nest on my head, and one sock. My fingertips grazed along the back of his shoulders as I passed, noting only crumbs left on his plate and the business section of the newspaper in his hand. After fetching myself some coffee and a healthy portion of Ella's vegetable frittata, I settled in the chair across from him and an inapposite sensation of rote domesticity struck me. I'd spent many unusual moments with Ranger over the years, but very few ordinary ones. It was the first time we were doing this at his place, just because, on a regular day. It had nothing to do with a contract on my head or the latest boogie man that was sending me notes. So, this was how Ranger started his everydays? Curious. Of course, I supposed there wasn't a way for me to ever completely know how Ranger lived when I wasn't involved or present, but my imagination certainly liked trying.

I wondered if there was anyone who really knew Ricardo Manoso, or if he was, in some way, an enigma to everyone. Every time I began to think I had a handle on him I'd get a glimpse of something new and find myself right back at the starting line again. Sure, the 'man of mystery' was exciting in numerous arenas, but ultimately that was only superficial and rarely rewarding beyond the immediate. Conversely, the ease with which he and I were continually finding ourselves living these recurrences of the commonplace was a much more intriguing prospect. Ranger and the mundane made for an interesting combination.

Over the years we've spent far more early mornings together than we've spent late nights, and I found each one more engrossing than the last. Observing him over breakfast was an improvised social experiment and virtual character study rolled into one. He read the paper in the morning – with those same sharp, alert eyes that roamed shadows and darkness at night, keeping so many people safe. And once he'd read through to the sports pages, always surprisingly quickly, he would fold it into thirds with the crossword puzzle facing out. He had an odd habit of stirring his coffee even though he never added any sugar or cream, although strangely enough he never stirred his tea. When he drank tea, he lifted the cup and swished it round before taking his first sip. When he checked the time in the mornings, he always checked both his watch and his phone to make sure they were the same and I'd seen him occasionally check that mine was in sync as well. I was almost positive that he had a mental tally of how many minutes wrong each of the clocks in my apartment were. And just like everyone else in the world, he put his pants on one leg at a time – in his case, as far as I'd seen, it was the left that was always first for each his legs, socks, and shoes. (I mentally laughed at myself. It bordered on ridiculous that I couldn't manage to hold onto a train of thought for more than five minutes without it eventually pulling in at the 'pantless Ranger' station.) Most importantly though, lately he was expressive, as if the steely stoicism he consistently wore wasn't natural at all, but an attitude he had to ready himself to project. Thanks to these short glimpses of that, I was starting to see things in him that I'd never expected to find.

Yet despite it all, I couldn't fight the feeling that there was more, so much more, to him and all of it hidden away from me. How many of the tiny details of a man can you discover and still feel like you don't know him?

My man. No. That was't right.

For several minutes, I watched him watching me. Even if I convinced myself that I wasn't pretending, even if I truly believed this man was mine, I knew that this man across from me wasn't my dark, dangerous, sultry Ranger who raised the ambient temperature at the bonds office and made hoodlums mess their pants. This guy, the one I woke up with every morning, he was all of those things, but more. He was different than I'd known him to be... maybe this was Ricardo.

Whoever he was, he set the newspaper aside and watched me eat for a few minutes before opening with, "I heard about what happened last night."

Of course he had. People couldn't be more informed about the play by play of my life if there was a twenty four hour news network dedicated to it. "I added an emetic to the list of inventory to stock the vehicles' first aid kits," I said. "I was going to take the expense papers up to Alvirez later today." I kept eating and he kept watching me expectantly. I held his gaze, "Should I be expecting lectures in my near future?"

"No." I could see him trying to gauge my reaction even before he continued, "Woody's worried about you."

I rolled my eyes. They were all a bunch of Meddling Maggie's. "I'm fine. He should save his worry for Dinah, and the next girl." I cut my eyes to Ranger. He didn't look satisfied. Yeah, I sort of figured that explanation wouldn't cut it. I sighed and set down my fork. "It wasn't anything like I expected," I tried to express the way the night had affected me. "You know that feeling you get when you find the last piece, you figure it out and get the guy? Well, I don't feel that way, just tired and empty."

"Tired, maybe," Ranger said with sober regard, "but you're not empty."

I nearly groaned; he wasn't hearing me. "She needs someone, some real help. And I don't have any – "

"You have it," he interrupted, "you're not empty, Stephanie. You're so full of life it spills out around you." Seriously? He was going to say something sweet like that? Right now? It was a beautiful thing to say. It made my heart flutter and my lips long for his, but what else is new? What his kind words didn't do was change anything. I got up and took my dishes into the kitchen. I rinsed them for Ella and continued to fidget around in the sink, not thrilled about the idea of returning to the conversation I'd abandoned.

I should know better than to think I can dodge Ranger for long. He came up behind me and put his hand on the back of my neck. "How about the real story, Babe?"

Sometimes I felt so silly when I stood next to him, like all of the complicated parts of my life that I stress about are really very simple and I just failed to notice on my own, what becomes so obvious when he's with me. "I don't usually have front row seats like that," I answered, speaking to the sink rather than my sexy pacifier. "I hate the way it felt to be that angry."

His hand kneaded the base of my neck and I bit back a soft moan. "It's natural to be angry. Use it and then leave it on the job."

"I could have seriously hurt that guy without an ounce of guilt or remorse. Last night I was capable of just about anything," I confessed with self-rancor tinged by fears of what I might be capable of. "I'd rather be empty."

He pulled me to him and held me close, speaking against my ear, "You're not empty. You couldn't be." His hand worked its way lower on my back and I stopped trying to hold back the sounds of approval and his voice fell an octave in response. "It'll get easier," he assured.

But who would want that to get easier? I don't ever want it to be easy for me to witness something so vile. I don't want to get used to that. My doubts still had a firm grip over me. I was only just starting to get settled in at RangeMan, but still I was stalling the final decision, now more unsure than ever about whether I could handle it. How could I explain that to Ranger? This company was his life.

He kissed me then, a beginner's kiss, gently probing and exploring, as if he'd never kissed me before. I was bewitched by it. Doubts, disturbing memories, and job stress melted away. Nothing mattered but him and the way he could make the familiar feel like discovery.

"Stay with me again tonight," he asked, his eyes full of a thousand promises. Oh god, this was too much too early in the day.

My reply was a simple, involuntary, "yes," refusal impossible. He kissed me again and kept kissing me until my phone rang. I reached down to check the number on my cell. "Ugh, it's my mother."

"Can't ignore your mother," he informed me between gentle, meandering nips that trailed down to my collarbone.

"I can't?" Surely that was better than talking to her when I was this breathless. What was he trying to pull?

He shook his head no, lightly dragging his lips back and forth across my skin. "Better answer that."

I gave him a very reluctant push away, "tease," but he just smiled and went back to his paper while I answered the call. "Hi, mom."

She started right in. "Stephanie, I'm glad you finally answered. Why you ignore your mother's calls, of all people…"

"I haven't been ignoring you, Ma," I attested, catching Ranger's quiet chuckles drift in from the next room when he overheard my denial.

"Well, that doesn't matter right now anyway," she brushed it off. She was worked up about something. "Have you heard the big news from your sister yet?"

"No."

"She got married!"

Holy Krimpets! "What? When?"

"Last night."

"What? I mean, how? To Albert?"

"Of course to Albert, who else would it be? They asked us if we could watch the girls last night and then a few hours after they dropped them off they called and said they were married," she explained in a rush. "They drove down to a bed & breakfast in Virginia where there was a small ceremony. She e-mailed Angie the wedding photos. She wore the dress we'd picked out, but she had her hair down. We had gone to so much trouble with the decision about her headpiece she should have worn it. Instead she had some type of headband with a flower on it and a few stones. I don't understand what she was thinking with that or any of the flowers. Maybe the place didn't have much to offer. If she had gone to Sylvia's before leaving town she could have gotten a good price on something much more elegant. She offers all of those colored baby's breath now, you can match it to just about any color scheme you choose…"

"Ma," I interrupted, "I don't need every detail."

"Well, it wasn't what I had in mind for her, but it was really very nice for what it was. They're going to be there for a few days while the girls stay here with us in your old room."

Shit, she was really serious. Valerie got married. "And you're not angry about this?"

"Oh, I'm just so relieved. Your father and I had almost given up hope for the two of you." Yeah, I'm sure my father's been holding his breath to walk one of us down the aisle. Again. "Thank you, Stephanie. Thank you."

Now that was a new one. I couldn't remember the last time my mother thanked me for something. It made for a vast improvement over blame though, so I'm not complaining or anything. "For what?"

"For talking her into it."

Say what now? "Who told you that?"

"She said that if you hadn't come to talk to her the other night she wasn't sure she would have ever gone through with it. That is such a sweet thing to do for your sister." She was starting to choke up with emotion. "Now the girls have a family again. Val really is lucky to have you as her sister." She was sniffling on the other end of the line and I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I heard her blow her nose and hem an apology. Then regaining her enthusiasm, she told me, "We're having a special dinner tonight and wanted to let you and Ranger know about it right away. I know you're busy, but this will be to celebrate and show my appreciation to you; so you can't miss it. The girls are looking forward to seeing you and showing you all the pictures. And you and I are going to have pineapple upside down cake and champagne." Did she say pineapple upside down cake? Maybe a pinch wasn't enough. I might need a suplex to wake from this dream. "Now I have to get going. Your grandmother and I are going to the beauty parlor to tell everyone the news. I can expect you both tonight, right? At six o'clock."

"Um, yeah, we'll be there," I answered in a daze.

"Alright dear, I'll see you tonight. And thank you so much."

I hung up and stared at the phone in my hand in bewilderment. Most of the night at Valerie's was a blur, but I think I would have remembered persuading her to elope. We'd talked about marriage and kids, Joe and Ranger, and she told me about Steve and Albert. There was some reminiscing, I think. Other than that, I was clueless.

"Who's we?" Ranger's brusque question flung me away from my foggy bramble of memories.

I looked over at him, "What?"

He was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. He had his blank face on and was classic, strong and somber Ranger once again. "On the phone with your mother, you told her 'we' would be there," he clarified curtly. "Who were you talking about?"

"We?" I covered a small gasp with my hand when I realized what he was asking about, "Oh, I'm sorry. I meant us, you and I; my mother invited us to dinner. She caught me off guard and I couldn't think of an excuse for you. I'm sorry. You don't have to go. She'll understand." I noticed his tight fists relax as I explained.

"A dinner invite from your mother isn't exactly shocking."

"Val got married last night. She eloped." That news only warranted a raised eyebrow from him. "My parents are watching the girls until they get back and she's making a special dinner tonight to celebrate. She wants to thank me." That tidbit lifted the other eyebrow as well. I threw my hands up and huffed, "Apparently I talked Val into it. I don't see how. I don't remember it, and despite the fact that I think Val will be happy with Albert, heaven knows I'm not a real big fan of marriage at the moment." Ranger was studying me closely and I was afraid that I'd blush inconveniently when I remembered my panicked denial to Lula's question about Ranger asking me to marry him. I rambled on attempting to hide from his uncanny ability to read my thoughts, "On the bright side I'll get to have cake, and maybe now she'll stop praying to Saint Andrew for a son-in-law and just focus on Saint Matilda and her general disappointment in me."

"I wish you'd stop that," he said low enough it was almost more to himself than me, and reached out to pull me closer. "I have to go, but I needed to tell you that Brower called first thing today; we've got a meeting scheduled. So don't get distracted by any new adventures with your family. You already have plans."

I had the urge to salute. "Yes, sir, Bossman."

Not amused, he jerked me forward against him drawing a mini-squeak from me. "Don't ever call me boss." His hold on me was so tight it lifted me up onto my toes. "When you're up here with me you aren't working."

"Okey-dokey," was my semi-shocked response and his good-bye kiss was almost deep enough to erase the word 'tease' from my vocabulary entirely.

~POV~pov~POV~pov~POV~

Tank knocked as he opened the door, not waiting for a response and catching Ranger before he had the chance to school his features. "I saw that," he taunted his friend's smile. Tank walked into the office with his own wide grin, the one reserved for special occasions. His eyes suggestively flicked to the ceiling when Ranger turned to see who was entering. "Tell me what I want to hear!" There were no secrets in the Haywood building. The entire company knew that Stephanie had spent the night on the seventh floor.

Giving only a blank face and flat stare, an unamused Ranger answered, "I finished going over the new hire files. So you can get on that as soon as possible. Pits called to say he needs more personnel and we can't keep sending our guys up there. They're already over-worked."

Tank threw up a hand and crashed down into one of Ranger's visitor chairs. "Bro, that is so disappointing! Do I need to give you the 'birds and bees' speech again, because whoever did it the first time must have left something out if you're this clueless."

"I have work to do."

Tank laughed and gestured skyward with his thumb, "and not just down here."

"T, I'm warning you, I'm not in the mood."

"When are you ever? You should really tell me. I'll let Steph in on the secret and then maybe she'll know the best time for her to get the ball rolling – "

"Tank!" Ranger had reached his limit of Tank's suggestive cajoling.

"Fine, fine." He held up his hands and rose from his seat. He knew when to push and when to let it go. "I'll buzz you when Brower gets here." Grabbing the files on his way out, he left a disquieted Ranger with a muttered, "never could figure why she loves your dumb ass."

~POV~pov~POV~pov~POV~

When I logged in at my desk, I still had the night before on my mind and saw that Bobby was working in the building. I went in search of him and found him in the fifth floor storage rooms. "Hey, Brown, how did things go last night after you left?"

He didn't even look up from his clipboard. "The hospital called family services. I stayed until the case worker showed up. The girl was stable when I left. She'll be fine for a while."

My eyelids stuttered for a second. "What do you mean a while? Is she sick?"

"She's a junkie. When she's desperate enough again she'll get into another man's car and end up in some other strange house." His flippant remark was a sock in the gut, and it must have shown on my face because when he glanced at me he elaborated, "that guy wasn't the only one responsible for her condition. She had weeks of marks up her arms and she refused to cooperate or answer questions. It wasn't the first time she'd been to the E.R. for intoxication and trauma; she already has a long record."

"She's just a kid," was all I heard myself say, despite the fact I was shouting, 'how can you be so cold?' in my head.

"Sixteen going on sixty," he said and looked up again when I didn't answer. "Don't get involved. The job is dangerous enough; it doesn't need personal complications. Neither does she."

"She needs help."

He sighed, "If she wants it, she'll get it, from the right people. In this case, we aren't it. You're not the right person, Plum. It's not your place."

I've never stood for being dictated 'my place' before and I wasn't about to start. "And you get to decide that?"

He regarded me like I was a bothersome child. "It isn't anyone's decision; it's just the truth. You don't have the time, the training, or the means. If you wanted to save people, you should have been a social worker or a cop. Saving the world isn't in our job description."

I was floored. "You're a Ranger and a medic. You save people all the time."

"Field medicine and triage; proper medical is every bit as much a weapon as a gun," he clarified. "I provide tactical treatment. I'm not responsible for counseling the city's lost children." With that he grabbed the boxes he'd been looking for off the shelves and left me wondering if it was the conversation or the company that had pissed me off so much.

~POV~pov~POV~pov~POV~

"I'm looking for Stephanie Plum. Is she around?"

Connie arched a brow in surprise as she recognized Oakenstaff from his mugshot. Usually Stephanie had to put some effort into locating her skips. This was the first time one had ever walked into the office looking for her.

"Who's lookin'?" Before Connie could speak, Lula entered through the back door with one eye on her designer, silver heels and the other on the hand digging through her purse in search of the matching nail polish. She frowned when she finally set eyes on the man she was addressing. "I know you. You the ass with mean dogs, Ogrestick or somethin'."

"They aren't mean," he claimed in their defense, "they just get protective when someone tries to break into my house."

Lula pulled out her polish and shook it in his direction, with a furious tic-tic-tic of the mixer pellet. "Hey, I gotta right ta bust in and grab ya – "

Connie knew better than to let that exchange go on any longer than necessary, "What do you want with Stephanie?"

Returning his attention to Connie, he explained, "She gave me her card, but I lost it. If she isn't here, can you give me her number or address or something?"

"I'm not giving you her number until I know why you want it," Connie told him, "and even then I might say no."

"I just need to talk to her."

The plethora of oddities and danger that Stephanie consistently encountered through her work was not something Connie took lightly, especially when if they followed her back to the office. So she felt fully justified in her caution. "Leave a message with us; we'll give it to her."

"No, I can't do that; I need to speak to her."

"Don't tell him nuthin'," Lula reinforced Connie's reticence. "He'll prolly chop her into tiny pieces and feed her to his dogs."

"Give me Lester's number then," Auggie sighed, recognizing defeat. "He's her bodyguard or whatever, right? He'll know where she is."

The women took a moment to ponder that. "You know Lester?" Connie asked after exchanging a look with Lula.

"Yeah, big guy, bad manners, quiet type."

The fact he knew Lester vouched for his familiarity with Stephanie, but the fact that he thought Lester was her bodyguard attested to how little that familiarity stretched. "Here," Connie jotted down the number of RangeMan's main line, "call them. They'll know how to get in touch with her. And Lester too if you want."

"Thanks." Augustus accepted the number and contemplated the possibility that calling it might put him in contact with the 'boss' or 'man in black' that had put everyone in his cell on edge the night before and elicited caution from even street-harden men. Not for the first time, he thought that maybe he should just mind his own business.

~POV~pov~POV~pov~POV~

Brower, Tank, Hal, and Ranger were all business around the conference table. I was feeling less professional and just trying as hard as I could not to remember the day Con attacked me and everything else that happened. I had been pretty stressed lately and this call back to Con Stiva wasn't helping matters. A nap would help. Cake would help. The supportive pressure of Ranger's hand on my neck as he passed my chair helped a little. But once he was on the other side of the table I was thinking that a sturdy belt of Jack Daniels might help even more.

Brower started us off. He'd called the meeting, so this was his party. "I've gotten a few calls. It looks like your circumstances have changed."

"How?" Tank inquired.

"I was originally told that you were expected to return at some point in the following week, once all of the evidence had been collected and the right papers were filed, to answer questions and give your final official statements. That doesn't seem to be the case anymore. I tried to put them off for as long as I could, but they want Ms. Plum to come in for questioning."

The table was immediately alert and Ranger was in professional commando mode. "Do they believe Stiva's version of events?"

"I can't speak to that."

"They can't possibly think he's credible," Tank chimed in. "Do they have other witnesses who are contradicting our story?"

"All that I can tell you is that I've been contacted by the prosecutor's office. They've asked me to bring you in to the station as soon as possible – meaning today – or they would be forced to compel your presence for an interview." He was looking at me as he spoke and it made my heart rate speed up.

"Why?" I asked, appalled. "It shouldn't matter what Stiva says, even if it is true. He's crazy."

"Legally, he's sane."

I ran my hands over my face in frustration. Shit. I had totally forgotten about all of this. I'd gotten a little creative with my interpretation of the law this week, but nobody official knew about any of that. I should have been keeping tabs with Eddie, but I'd let myself get sidetracked. This has to be about those damn keys they never found. I'd been so distracted lately that I'd completely stashed this little bit of nightmare out of the way in my denial file, to be traumatized by at a later date. "I don't get it. Why is there a problem? I mean, Con and Spiro were both criminals, and not the two-bit kind either. They were in deep; with military property, guns, weapons, money, and shit like that. He was committing fraud for years, decades even. The man went on a murderous rampage, complete with assault and kidnapping and arson and bombs! For Christ's sake, the sick fuck was stalking me and gallivanting around town with mortician's putty on his face impersonating his disfigured and deceased son. That lunatic locks me in a casket and tells me he's going to kill me and then I just tap him with the Buick and all of a sudden the shit hits the fan and everyone is looking at me like I'm the bad guy? There's something wrong with this picture gentlemen! Or is it just me? Am I over reacting? 'Cause it sure as hell doesn't feel like it." I looked around for some commiseration, but didn't find any. The others just let me vent and then got on with business as if it I hadn't said anything. Ugh!

Brower glanced between Ranger and Tank. "Do you know of any reason why the investigators might have changed their minds and are now behaving as if Ms. Plum is a suspect instead of a victim?"

"No," Ranger answered. "Other than the Baltimore problem with Amado and the DEA, RangeMan hasn't been involved in anything official. The stalker-related concern that Stephanie's had since then wasn't reported and wouldn't be enough to call any of us in for questioning."

I caught Tank's eye, wondering if he would mention Casper. The police had no concrete reason to connect me to him unless he accused me of something, and if he had I was sure I would have heard about it, but Tank's TPD contact did know that Tank was looking for Casper, as did Juniak. Tank gave me a tiny shake of his head, signaling me to keep quiet.

"Any other reasons we might get a call from the police?" Brower pursued.

I gave the guys a minute to speak up and tell Brower that it was something other than what I suspected. They didn't know about the minor issue with the Buick and I hadn't considered it significant enough to warrant this much fuss. Maybe the old woman from the records office talked. Maybe someone saw me with Bob outside Joe's house that night. Maybe the Brigade was stirring up more trouble and attracting attention. Maybe one of the guys knew of just one, tiny reason that didn't concern me. At least I was hoping they did. But the seconds tick by and they didn't say anything. So I knew I'd have to.

"I might." Brower focused on me and gave me the same bemused look he'd worn that night at the station. Again, he hadn't expected me to have the answers he was looking for.

I cleared my throat, feeling awkward. This tiny snag was my fault for overlooking an important detail last time. "The police might be suspicious because they haven't been able to find the keys to the Buick and it wasn't hotwired." I took his patient silence as my cue to elaborate. "I'm pretty sure they want to ask me to explain how Con could have managed to drive it over to Spiro's place without the keys. It seems like a tiny detail, but that tiny detail confirms part of Con's version of events. They can't explain it and there's nothing Eddie can do about it. He can 'lose' all manner of evidence, but he can't make something materialize when and where it's convenient." I dug around in my purse for a minute and set the keys on the table. "As it turns out, lucky for us, Con did take the keys from me and use them that night. He had them on him when Tank secured him in the Explorer. They fell out of his pocket and have been there under the seat all along, but we didn't find them until this morning. Or a different day? Or maybe we should wait and 'find' them after they question me about it?"

Tank and Hal both looked back and forth from the keys to me. Ranger didn't. He wasn't looking at anything but me.

Please don't ask me about it. Please don't ask me to explain it any further.

Brower on the other hand stared at the keys like he was too afraid to look at me. "How do you know about this?" When I didn't answer he glanced at the notes in front of him and asked, "Gazarra?"

"No." Just drop it. I have the keys and know what to say when we're asked about them. Let it go.

The line of his lips tightened. "Ms. Plum, if you've discussed this case with a third party or talked to the police without counsel pres -"

"I haven't," I quickly interrupted. I didn't have to meet their eyes to know they were all still staring at me; I could feel it. "And how many times have I asked you to call me Stephanie?"

He pressed harder, "I need to know. If someone found one inconsistency with your statements, the more likely they are to find others. It could easily complicate matters for all of you." He fixed a stern eye on me and asked again, "How did you find out that the police have questions about your keys? Have they tried to contact you?"

I knew I had to tell him, but I was having trouble forming the words. How do I explain to them that I knew because Joe told me when I'd been to see him? It was still painful just to think about him, let alone talk about it in front of people, especially these men. I was having trouble breathing. The room felt smaller all of a sudden, flooded with my memories from that last night with Joe. They didn't belong there at that table with us.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ranger sit forward slightly. "Babe?"

I focused on a spot on the wall just over Brower's shoulder. I couldn't face their reactions as I admitted, "Morelli."

"The officer with the injured leg?" Brower asked with puzzled disbelief.

"Yes." Let. It. Go. I tried to silence him with a sheer force of will.

"How much does he know about the incident?"

Even if Joe hadn't been involved, he would have figured it out on his own. He really was a good cop and he knew me better than most people. "Almost all of it."

"And that's why Gazarra made the remark about his disagreement with your statement?" Brower was making some illegible notes on his pad. After my nod, he continued his questioning, "is this detective going to be a problem?"

The room was silent, waiting on my answer. I couldn't take it any longer; I glanced up at Ranger. His gaze was intense, angry. I had to bow my head and close my eyes, trying to maintain composure. After the way Joe and I had left things, I honestly wasn't sure how he was going to behave. I wanted to think that he'd told me about the keys as a warning, that he did it to protect me. I hoped he still cared enough not to want to see me prosecuted, no matter how hurt or angry he was, but I wasn't positive that would still be the case now. "I don't know."

Brower wasn't happy with that answer. "Well, is he a friend, because he didn't seem it? Did he tell you about it so that you'd be prepared when the issue came up?"

I shook my head, "I don't know."

"Was it a threat? Is it a possibility that he'd use what he knows against you in some way?" Brower's tone softened as if he was speaking to a frightened, young girl. I sort of felt like one just then.

"He'd never threaten me," I assured him. Joe was a lot of things, but he wasn't a blackmailer. He wasn't a threat. At least not to me, he wasn't.

"Ms. Plum -"

"Stephanie."

Brower gave a pained sigh, "Stephanie. Maybe it would be better if you just explained to me what you discussed."

His suggestion propelled me from my seat at the table. It was out of the question. That was one conversation I was never going to recount to anyone. "We didn't discuss it," I insisted, knowing it wouldn't be enough of an explanation to satisfy anyone in the room. I stood apart from them with my back turned, running my hands through my hair and taking deep breaths. There was no way around it. I was going to have to explain. Finally I turned back and confessed, "I don't know why he told me or what he meant by it. I'm not even sure that he told me on purpose." My arms folded defensively over my chest, protecting me against all of their unasked questions. I swallowed thickly and had to blink back tears, because I'd have really rathered to keep those to myself as well. "He was drunk and shouting and we both said a lot of things. He might not even remember that he mentioned it." I sunk back into my chair, knowing how weak of an explanation that was despite its honesty.

Brower was quiet for several moments, watching me fight to hold myself together. He must have decided that he'd pushed far enough because he dropped his eyes and picked up his pen, beginning to work on whatever the hell lawyers wrote down to help them convince judges they were right about something. And in this case, Brower was right to stop harping on the issue. He'd pushed me farther than enough. I'd already told them more than I'd wanted to about it and had no plans for divulging any more of it in the near future. If that meant rolling the dice concerning Joe's intentions, then so be it. "For now," he spoke once he'd put down his pen, "they're only asking that you, Stephanie, come down to the station. My guess is that their need for the others to repeat their statements will heavily depend on what you have to say. It would really be best if we did this as soon as possible. I have time set aside this afternoon. We can head over there now if you're available."

"We'll all go now," Ranger pronounced with his eyes still locked on me.

"No, it's okay," I spoke up. "I'll go on my own today."

"Babe."

"No," I almost shouted at him. If Morelli was there and was a part of this, that sort of entourage would be like kicking a wasp nest in bare feet. "You're busy. Besides, this is just a formality right?" I bullied Brower for support.

"Of course," he answered in a way that didn't reassure any of us. He didn't take much longer with his note-taking and I wondered if he had any idea how disappointed I was when he told me that he'd meet me at the station. Was he so spoiled by that car of his that he was not aware of the fact that anyone in their right mind would want a ride from him? Especially someone who was having a bad afternoon that would probably get worse? A ride in his Continental GT might go a long way to cushioning more than just my ass.

~POV~pov~POV~pov~POV~

Fucking Morelli. Of course he'd try to swoop in and take over. He should have told me about this. This was usually the kind of shit he'd actually call to let me know. And rub in my face.

"Babe," I said again when Stephanie stood as Brower left the room.

"Ranger." Stephanie didn't follow Brower out, but she wouldn't look at me either.

Asking my question took a fuck load more effort than I ever liked to put on display. "What's going on with Morelli?" I didn't intend for it to sound so personal, but once it was asked, I couldn't take it back. [*021]

"Nothing," her voice broke at the tail end of the word and then she wouldn't look at any of us, purposefully hiding her face. Tank was watching her with an intensity I wasn't entirely comfortable with and if she hadn't been standing in front of the door and blocking his exit, I knew that Hal would have been long gone. Then Stephanie started pacing again. I wished we weren't at the office. I wanted to grab her and make her stand in one place, make her look at me.

Whatever was going on, it was clear that she thought I wasn't going to like it. I knew that terrible, infuriating possibilities started to form in all of our minds about why Stephanie, of all people, was suddenly this uncomfortable. Did he threaten her? And with what? Was this just about keys, crime, and blackmail? Was it more? The lines between personal and professional were starting to get too blurred to follow and it was frustrating as hell that I couldn't tell which I was dealing with anymore while Morelli had sounded so sure of his position when he called the other night to give me shit about Amado. I hadn't mentioned his call to Stephanie, but Morelli could have told her anything. He could have berated her in frustration for the week of nights they'd spent apart or filled her head with sweet nothings trying to convince her to come back. Were they working things out? Was any of it physical? In a loving or angry way? Would Morelli have ever dared to lay a violent hand on her? Could anyone be that stupid or hot-headed? Or was it even more than a reactionary lashing out? Was this about her association with RangeMan? Exactly how much did Morelli know about that night? About other nights? Would he risk her just to get to me? I needed answers.

"Babe," I aimed for soothing, not suspicious. "If he did anything to you – "

"He didn't!" burst from her. She had an icy stare, briefly lifting her head to look us each in the face, challenging one of us to make another accusation. And she suspects that I have ESP… Stephanie's posture remained tense as she continued pacing. I watched her touch her nose, the way she does when she's upset. The tip of her index finger gently slid up its length to soothe the crease in her brow and then down again and tapped the tip; one, two, three, four times. She was obviously searching for some way to explain herself. At least it was obvious to me. Stephanie pinched her nose and her eyes shut. She didn't breathe for… 27 seconds by my count. Then she let her hand fall away, lifted her lids, and held my gaze like she was trying to read my mind. "I gave him some personal news that he wasn't thrilled about. We fought."

My heart skipped a beat. News? What kind of news could she have to give? When was this? The worst of the worst sprang to mind immediately. Could it be about marriage? Did Morelli propose again when he found out about the full time job offer? I knew what he thought of RangeMan. How far would he go to convince her he was right about me?

"What do you mean you fought?" Hal asked abruptly, outwardly showing interest in the conversation for the first time.

"We exchanged words in angry tones," she uncharacteristically snapped at Hal. "There weren't fisticuffs if that's what you're asking."

"Babe."

"Ranger." Why was she being so especially stubborn about this?

An even worse possibility struck me; was she pregnant? No. That's impossible, I tried to convince myself. That couldn't be the real reason that she'd quit her job at Vinnie's, could it? Morelli's baby? No. She would have told me that. She would have told Tank. She wouldn't be trying to get more involved at RangeMan if she was pregnant, would she? No way. And she definitely wouldn't be chasing down killers in the middle of the night. Or practically pulling me towards the bedroom at every opportunity. Then again, all this agitation lately could be hormonal; not sugar withdrawal hormonal, but pregnancy hormonal. I've seen it before. Maybe she just didn't know then, and now that she knows, that's the reason why she's working at her desk when she's told and doing everything else Tank asks. No, I repeated again mentally. Jesus. Healthier eating and exercising; plus she agreed to new security measures at her apartment and even to stay at RangeMan one night to be safe? That photo had a goddamn baby's handprint on it!

"Steph, please, if there is something…" Tank tried to mollify her ire in an intimate tone that set my teeth on edge.

He glared at me when I interjected, "Babe, we need to know what you talked about."

She was getting more upset. "No, you don't. It's nothing anyway."

"Obviously it's something," I said in reference to the tiny circuit she was following in place.

"It's unrelated. Drop it."

"If it comes up in a legal meeting, it's related."

"Just give it a rest, Ranger!"

I was unprepared for her sharp bite. We never usually reach this level of disagreement; usually I intimidate her and she blushes and gets flustered. Usually I'm kissing her by now. Apparently that's changed. "No."

She blinked back at me, like she couldn't believe what was happening either. I might have been imagining it, but I thought I could hear her teeth grinding. "It's personal," she shot back.

I hated this. Since when do we argue, and in front of other people? "It's a legal matter that potentially affects all of us, and the company. You have to tell us what's going on with Morelli." Tank abruptly turned to scowl at me with his own disbelieving expression, but I didn't care. I had to know. A variety of unpleasant possibilities were still popping into my head. Morelli wouldn't go so far as to give evidence against her, would he? Or have her state licenses to work in enforcement revoked? That would destroy her.

My racing assumptions couldn't make it much farther down dangerous paths before she turned to me to interrupt them. My heart kicked back into gear. I'm not ashamed to admit that the light in her eye scared me. I'd seen her look at someone like that before, but never me; cold, defiant, as closed off and detached as she gets. "I told Joe I fucked you. He was upset."

Holy! Shit!

"Por Dios bendito. Out. Now." I didn't raise my voice, but Tank and Hal vanished like they were fleeing the plague. This issue had definitely entered the personal realm. I could see Stephanie counting to ten and waited for her to finish. "You want to back up and start that from the beginning again?" I could hear her tapping her foot and that made me nervous.

"That was about it really." She gave her head another shake and her hand returned to her face to worry her lip and cheek. For a moment, I froze, knowing how close she looked to tears. But she continued in a steady voice, "there was yelling and gesturing and accusations. I told him I slept with you. Things devolved even further after that. Then he basically threw me out of the house." She hung her head, her fire waning. "End of story," she said and shrugged in a helpless way that made me want to hold her and never let her go.

I made a move for her, but she already had a hand on the door knob and was talking as she opened it. "And now I have to go down to the station, cross my fingers and hope that I don't run into him. Then I'll be forced to relive my night with Con Stiva as I give my final statement. So, since you're the one with all the inhuman patience and self control, whatever it is that you want to say to me about all of this, could it please, please wait?"

She didn't wait for my answer before swiftly ducking out of the room, which was just as well since I didn't know what to say. Sometimes she still completely shocked the hell out of me. I just stood there like a moron and watched her leave. She disappeared faster than Ella's hand-made crullers after a night shift stakeout. Then I was left alone and confused in an empty meeting room.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Despite this story's longevity, it's still a WIP. (I work on it when I can.) Please R&R.
[*021 : American Analog Set - The Green Green Grass]

** A/N: Thank you again to all of my readers and reviewers for your steady, incomparable support. Next chapter: a little more about Casper, yet another potential problem for Stephanie, and dinner at the Plum's. **