Chapter 25

Dawn was fast approaching as we walked into the building. The city was waking up. People would be getting ready for the day, never thinking about what flowed through the tunnels under their feet. I wondered if anyone actually lived under the city. If there were places like you see in movies with railway cars left for dead, and cities underground, I think I would pass. The smell and the filth that came with the unique living quarters would be intolerable. I was having a hard time smelling the stench permeating from all of us. We needed out of these clothes.

The room Joe brought us into was as basic as it could get, and completely right for a police station. The walls were off white and needed repainting. A long wood table sat alone in the middle of the room. It was probably older than the mayor and had the scuffs and scars to prove it. Twelve folded industrial metal chairs leaned against the far wall. The room was bland, boring and cold. Joe said it was the best he could do. It was the only interrogation room they had that wasn't wired for sound. None of us argued. I was grateful we had someplace to lay low; believe it or not, it felt safe being at the cop shop.

When he left the room, the door had locked behind him. I watched it, thinking that it was probably a precaution. He just didn't want anyone coming in and questioning what we were doing here. At least that was what I was hoping. Joe was trustworthy almost ninety-nine percent of the time. It was that one percent that bothered me. I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to find a comfy spot to sit on the metal chair, but it was no use. My pants were soaked, and my feet itched from being in wet boots. My favorite black hoodie was ripped in three places, and the smell coming from it was almost overwhelming. I had been splashed in the face more than twelve times, and one of those times, I think my mouth was open. My hair, thank goodness had been pulled back, but the slime that dripped on me when we first walked in the tunnels, was slowly moving down the back of my neck.

I glanced at the waterproof pack. It sat in the middle of the table. I thought back to all the damage those tapes had caused. My foot started itching again and I shifted in my chair once more. It was safe to say, none of us were very comfortable. I think I wasn't the only one who was trying to find something else to concentrate on besides myself. Tank leaned back in his chair. His arms were crossed, his cell phone was up to his ear as he listened to the latest report from RangeMan. Lester leaned forward on the table, trying to pick the gunk out from underneath his fingernails. And Cal, he was sitting upright, glaring at the pack. We all shared the same grim look. I didn't care who stepped through the door next, they were giving us clean clothes, and maybe a couple of towels.

"Someone pulled that fire alarm from the inside!" Tank screamed into the phone. "There are fifty separate alarms in that building. That one was pulled on the 5th floor. Not only did someone walk in, but they got up to five without being seen? You tell me how that happened!" Tank's conversation with the security team was not going well.

I looked over at Cal. His attention was still on the pack, but we were all listening to what was happening on the phone. "I thought you smelled smoke, then the building alarms went off because of it." I said.

"He set off smoke bombs. They don't smell like fire, they smell like chemicals. Our system knows the difference. The alarms didn't trigger. He had to manually pull one. Apparently, the goal was to get everyone out of the building."

"How do you know it was him? I mean, couldn't it have been someone who smelled the smoke? Someone who was suppose to be on the 5th floor? Maybe it was a tenant."

"The surveillance cameras picked him up. I think he knew our night team was slack. The bastard threw what looked like a grenade. He looked directly at the camera, flipped us off and pulled the alarm."

I leaned forward. "So you know what this guy looks like?"

"He wore all black, including the hoodie." Lester said, cutting in. "He had on black gloves, a black face mask and wore black sunglasses. All nondescript clothing. The sunglasses are not even unique. This guy knew what he was doing. All we know is that he is about six-foot tall, maybe six-one. That's all we got. That description won't help us." Lester crossed his arms in front of him. His huge biceps bulged out even more, making him seem more like a giant on steroids. He looked angrily at Tank. "Security failed. If that's Jeremy on the phone, I would say he is up shit creek."

"How do you know that it isn't an employee or a tenant that lives in the building doing this?" I asked tentatively.

"All the tenants and staff have been accounted for." Lester said. He turned his attention back to Tank's conversation.

"If you guys can't find the breach in the next twelve hours, consider your team unemployed." Tank closed the phone and threw it on the table. "They are all incompetent. We should have guarded the building last night. What the fuck was I thinking letting them do it?"

All conversation stopped when The lock on the door tumbled and Joe walked in with Ranger. He had on the uniform of a prison inmate including the black slip on shoes. His eyes locked with mine. I took a deep breath. There was no denying it. I knew at this very moment why I had risked my life to free him. Ranger was more than just a casual sleeping partner, we had moved past that. Ranger was part of my future. I could feel it. He looked rugged. I doubted he had come anywhere near a razor since he was picked up. It made him look wild and unpredictable. Believe it or not, it also made him twice as hot. Holy cow, how was that even possible? I knew if I didn't stop ogling him, I would start to drool.

"He was out of his cage." Joe said, as he closed the door behind him. "I figured I would bring him along."

Ranger stood near the door. He didn't come any closer. He surveyed his team, then he focused on me. His piercing brown eyes were unreadable. My heart beat loud in my chest. That was it, he was the one. Accept it Stephanie. You are in love with a man in an orange jumpsuit. My mother will just have to deal with it.

He shifted his attention to the dirty pack lying on the table in front of us. "Smells like you guys have been busy. You need to get out of those clothes, and take hot showers." He turned back to Joe. "They will get sick."

Joe used his cell phone and made the arrangements. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was about to get on my hands and knees and beg for clean clothes and a shower. I could have kissed Ranger right in front of everyone, and I would have too, if I didn't have shit all over me.

A woman named Pam led me to the showers; I must have smelled pretty ripe. She held her breath when she handed me a couple of towels, shampoo and soap.

"Christ, that smell is bad!" She said as she opened up a trash bag. "Put everything in here." I could tell she was having a hard time with the aroma that flowed off of me. Her eyes welled up and her nose started to run. I didn't think she knew what she was getting into when Joe had asked her to help. "You don't want any of these clothes back, do you?"

"I don't think I ever want to see these clothes again. It's probably a good idea if no one touched them either. I have no idea what was in that sewer, but whatever it was, needs to stay down there." I handed her my clothes, dumping them into the bag. "I think it is safe to say that they are pretty much toast. I am throwing the boots in too."

"Good idea." She said, as she closed the bag up tight.

I scrubbed until my skin was pink, hoping the smell would leave. Even with the strong soap, I could still smell the sewer. Was it my imagination? What if the smell never went away, and I had to bathe in perfume to keep my skin from radiating toxic funk? I hoped this was all in my head.

Pam left clean clothes sitting on the bench next to the showers. I took a deep breath and began dressing in prison orange. Beggars can't be choosers, I said to myself. I wondered if this was Joe's idea. Then again, clean was clean. I didn't care if I had to wear a paper bag, as long as it was uncontaminated.

When I was finished dressing, I checked myself out in the full length mirror. Ya know, for prison clothes, these weren't half bad! I turned around as I looked at my new outfit from every angle. I fluffed up my wet hair and tried to be dignified. Jumpsuits were sort of back in style, right? I pulled on the little booties she had given me, and hoped that no one grabbed me when I walked out, thinking I was about to escape.

"Sorry about the clothes." Pam said, when I came around the corner. "The uniforms are all we had."

"It really isn't that bad." I said, looking down at the jumpsuit. "They are pretty comfortable."

"I always wondered about that. Not that I want to find out first hand." She said, as we walked out. "I put your clothes bag in the incinerator with the rest of the things your friends came in with. I hope that's okay."

"Thanks." I said. "I was afraid you might give them back."

She told me that everyone was in room 408. She wished me luck and walked back to her desk.

I spied a snack machine on the way back to the room. The only thing that looked good was a snickers bar. This whole escaping through the tunnels thing left me a little on edge. Sometimes sugary things like doughnuts and birthday cake helped me feel brave. I didn't know if a snickers bar would have the same effect, but I was willing to give it a shot. Plus, Ranger was in that room. I needed some help with my self-control. I was almost to the door when I decided to go back for another one, just in case the first one didn't work.

All of us were dressed in orange. Apparently street clothes were not available for any of us. I think we were lucky they gave us what they did. At least the smell was down to a minimum. It seemed to permeate now only from the middle of the table, where the pack sat.

The Kevlar cover was off and Ranger and Tank were looking at the tapes. Ranger glanced up for a moment, his eyes catching mine before sliding down to my uniform. I saw a hint of a smile as he casually slid out the chair next to him. It's a weird feeling being in the same room as both your current boyfriend, who is in jail and your ex-boyfriend, who is guarding him. It made things slightly uncomfortable.

I finished off the candy bar and sat down. Ranger was separating the tapes that he had pulled out of the pack. He looked at one of them closely, then dropped it back onto the table leaning back in his chair, looking at Joe. "We are going to need gloves. Some of the tapes have blood on them."

I bent forward, looking at the tape in question. It had smears of something red on it. I noticed that some of the other tapes had the same. That was probably Tony's blood. I didn't think he was all that innocent of a person, but I didn't think he deserved to get whacked that night. Joe pulled his cell phone out of this pocket and made a call. He asked for the status of the micro-cassette player and told them to bring in some gloves and some more plastic bags.

Ranger leaned towards me while Joe was busy talking on the phone. "You look cute in orange." He whispered, touching my sleeve. "You're going to want to keep these. I have plans." He locked eyes with me. I think I stopped breathing. His eyes were dark and intense. His mouth twitched into a little smile, then he directed his attention back to his adversary.

I think my blood pressure went up twenty points. Get a hold of yourself, Stephanie. Stop being such a sex fiend! Ranger is in jail, for chrisakes. Our shoulders were touching. I was having a hard time convincing myself that I shouldn't just sit in his lap. I put my head down and counted to ten.

"Okay, now that everyone is here…." Joe said. He paused when the door opened and Trisha walked in with Michael Rosewall and one of his assistants. Not only was I thankful for the distraction, but I was relieved to see Ranger's lawyer. He needed to hear the tapes as much as we did. I didn't want Ranger to be transferred out. Micheal might be able to stop it with new evidence.

Micheal's assistant's name was Wiseman. He was wafer thin and had curly brown hair that was cut above his ears. Both wore dark gray suits and black shoes. They were impeccably dressed. I had done some research on Michael and his firm. They only took on certain clients. I also knew his fees were probably more than my mother and father made in a ten year span. Micheal told us he wanted to come in early because of the transfer, and he was thrilled we were here trying to stop it from happening.

Trisha dropped some files on the table next to Joe. She waved her hand in front of her face and glanced over at Tank. "I think we need a candle or some air freshener in here. Couldn't you have found a better way out of the building?"

Tank smiled politely, and crossed his arms in front of him. None of us apologized for the smell.

Rosewall and Wiseman sat across from us. They both busied themselves with what ever was hidden inside their briefcases. After Trisha sat down, Joe leaned forward on the table and looked directly at me. "I think it would be a good idea if you tell us everything that has happened since we last talked. Apparently our investigation is moving a lot slower than yours is. It would be nice if we were all on the same page. Especially since my ass is the one on the line for letting this little meeting go on without anyone's approval."

"I think your ass will be pretty safe." Rosewall said. "I will make sure that your captain knows that I set up the meeting. I asked you to assist. We had the safety of these people in question. Lay the whole thing on me, and send any clothing bills and charges to my office. No one will need to know anything different."

Joe looked back at Ranger and Rosewall. He nodded his head. "I would appreciate that." Joe glanced back at me. Okay, sport. Tell us whats been happening."

I guess in front of Ranger and Trisha the term "Cupcake" wouldn't fly so well. Now I am "Sport". I wasn't sure I liked that anymore than "Cupcake".

We took turns telling what had happened in the last week. We told them everything we could think of, including some things that slid over the legal line. I saw Joe flinch a couple of times, but all in all, I think he took it all in stride. Sometimes you need to get your hands dirty. It may have been wrong to break in to Seabring's office, but if we hadn't, the men that came in after us would have the files now. I believed we had done the right thing. No one at the bureau would care if Ranger took the fall for Jeanne. Tank finished with the story of the tapes and how Connie's uncle lost two men trying to get them to us. I saw the anger in Tanks eyes when he told Ranger that security at the building had failed.

"Whoever took the tapes from RangeMan's vault last night, is not going to be very happy when they find out most of the tapes are blank." Ranger said. "How many did you copy?"

"Only about fifteen." Tank said. "Tony Barrella had fifty two tapes on him when he was found. We only kept the finished ones in the vault. There is a chance the guy wont know."

"He'll know when he plays them." Ranger said quietly.

"If he plays them." Micheal said. "Micro-cassette players are not as common as they use to be. If he doesn't have one, he will have to find one somewhere. Everything is done with memory chip recorders now." He held a small device in his hand and closed his briefcase, locking it and setting it next to him on the floor. The little machine was about five inches long, had a digital display and a speaker. He turned it on. We heard pieces of our conversation repeated. I hadn't even known he was recording us. "They are thin, small and light. They have a great range. You can even record a concert on one if you are in to bootlegging shows, or record someone without them even knowing."

"I think he will find a way to play them." Tank said "I would want to know what the guy had seen."

"If your right, he will find out pretty quickly that the tapes for the night of the murder are not there." Joe said.

"We need to listen to those tapes." I said, knowing it was obvious, but still wanting my opinion heard. "Whoever did this, will take off."

"Do you want the beginning, or the end?" Lester said.

There was a knock on the door. Eddie walked in with the missing cassette player and gloves. Trisha slid her chair closer to Ranger. She used a key she had in her pocket and unlocked his handcuffs. "I think it is safe to let you off your leash in here." Trisha handed a file to Ranger. He opened it and started thumbing through the contents.

Joe looked at his watch. "We need to speed this shit up. The morning is losing its edge, people."

Trisha looked at her watch. "He's right. It's already five thirty."

Ranger scanned through the papers, while Trisha looked on. "We dusted for prints at Edward Montoya's." She said. "The place, thankfully had not been rented out. No clean-up crew has been through the apartment yet. Mr. Montoya's family has chosen to keep the apartment for at least another month so they can clean it up and move all of his things out. We got lucky. Usually families opt to have a cleaning crew go in and clean for them."

Ranger looked up from the file and glanced over at Rosewall. "When this meeting is over, check in with Eddie's family. See if they need any financial support with the clean up. RangeMan will foot the bill. Let them know." Rosewall nodded and wrote a note for himself.

"Jeanne's prints are all over the apartment." Trisha continued. "Some look newer, some are older. She was definitely involved with him in some way. I have shown this new evidence to my supervisor, but so far, it wasn't enough to permit the re-opening of his case. Not yet, anyway."

"Has anyone checked his DNA?" I asked. Jeanne was pregnant. Someone had to be the father.

"I put in a request for DNA, but Mr. Montoya was cremated last weekend. Because it was deemed a suicide, the body was released to the family. We don't have any samples."

"We have blood samples of all our employees. Ramon can get them for you." Ranger said, still reading the file that Trisha had given him.

He had my attention. Why would RangeMan have blood work for employees? Drug tests? Gene splicing? Are they vampires?

I looked over at Tank, but he remained stolid.

The table had gotten quiet. I didn't think there was a person in the room except for the RangeMan employees that found this odd. Finally Ranger looked up from the file. He knew why we were quiet."To work for RangeMan, you have to submit blood work. It is kept for identification and some of us want to have a supply of plasma available if we need it. Having your own blood for transfusions is more important that you may think. Eddie opted in. We drew blood from him every month."

I suppose it was a good idea. I thought. Instead of taking someone else's blood, they use their own. I did know that some hospitals do this with patients that are going in for surgery. Ok, not that big of a deal, right? So he was overly cautious about his blood. Maybe he is a little paranoid. so what. I said to myself. But, It did seem weird. Had I found a flaw? I was sure there was a logical explanation behind it.

I suddenly needed to know, and I tried to ask in a casual way, but my voice cracked."So, do you have a supply of blood available at RangeMan?"

Ranger looked over at me. "I used all of it. I've never gotten around to replacing it again." He returned to reading the file, but the room remained silent. I don't think anyone at this table besides Cal, Lester,Tank and Ranger have ever needed to have a supply of blood handy.

"Okay." Trisha said, breaking the silence. "Just have Ramon bring me the sample and I will send it out to be tested."

Tank pulled out his cell phone and texted Ramon. I knew they would have those samples within the hour. RangeMan was an efficient operation. So what if they were paranoid about blood transfusions.

Joe, Ranger and Tank put gloves on and started sorting the tapes by date and time. Tank found the first tape from when Tony Barella started working the assignment. Joe dropped the tape into the machine and pressed play. Immediately the tone of the room was quiet and serious as we all listened to a voice from the grave give a mission statement.