Chapter 8:

"I can't really tell you why I need it done, Daddy, can you do it?" Shiloh pleaded. She'd been tempted to call and cancel the weekly dinner with her father when it struck her that he could be of some use. Shiloh gave her father the look that was half between puppy and pleading and knew that he wouldn't be able to refuse her. Senator Patrick Page was a short and slight man and looked rather like his daughter with his sparkling blue eyes and blond hair. He'd just celebrated his 61st birthday and speculation on the Senate floor was that he'd be the next Republican to run for President. Ranger had been hoping that a connection to Shiloh's father would prove lucrative, he hadn't counted on Shiloh's unwillingness to let him be used by anyone but herself. Senator Page paused almost too long for Shiloh's comfort level before answering.

"What were those names again?" he asked pulling a notebook from his pocket. She started breathing again. The older she grew the harder it got to get what she wanted from him. She knew that she was working on borrowed time even now. His new wife, a girl only slightly younger than herself, was pregnant and soon Shiloh would no longer be the only game in town.

" Ricardo Manoso, Lester Santos, Joseph Morelli," she paused. "and Khari Kaplan."

"Why do you want so much in depth information?" her father asked. "I may have a little problem with the military but I'll get you what I can." He added as an afterthought before waiting for her to answer his question.

"I'm helping Kaplan investigate the murders of Santos and Manoso," she answered. "Morelli's involved. There's also a woman but I don't think you'd find anything on her. She's a bounty hunter and pretty popular in the local press but she doesn't seem to be anyone special."

"I'll see what I can do," Senator Page said stuffing the notebook back into his pocket. He sipped his soup.

"You know Barbara makes an excellent soup rather like this," he said looking up at his daughter. "You should stop by for dinner sometime. We could eat like a real family."

"Mother makes an excellent soup, Daddy. Barbara probably opens a can. She probably doesn't even open the can. Probably has the maid do it so that she doesn't break a nail," Shiloh said viciously. "If you want a real family dinner, Daddy, you should stop at mother's sometime." Senator Page sighed heavily. Shiloh's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You know how it goes, Daddy. She used me to get to you and anyone who uses me doesn't have long to live. You just keep your little wife in her corner and I won't be tempted to do anything from mine."

Joe placed the receiver back in the cradle and stared at Stephanie thoughtfully. She'd pulled a comfortably stuffed wing backed chair from the living room and had pulled a dining room chair around for her feet. He chuckled to himself. She watched him expectantly.

"I need to go out," he said after a few minutes.

"Can I come?" she asked jumping up.

"Stay here and keep going through those reports. I won't be gone long." He started walking for the door and turned back to her.

"You still have Lester's rap sheet right there?" he asked. Stephanie picked the paper up and waved it.

"Was he currently up for anything?" Stephanie scanned the sheet.

"Assault," she said finally.

"Merda. Any drug convictions?" Joe asked.

"Two. Paraphernalia and possession with intent to sell." Stephanie looked a little closer at the sheet. "Both a few years ago. Boy, he has a ton of convictions for assault too. He always seemed so sweet to me. Must have one hell of a temper."

"Drugs can do that you, Cupcake." He grabbed a leather jacket. "I'll bring you home a special treat if you find me something good. You have the cell phone number." Stephanie nodded. Joe turned to the door.

"I want ice cream. Ben and Jerry's," she called after him. "Don't do anything lame like you did last time walking in naked." He laughed as he closed the door and headed for his Ducati. Damn. That blew his surprise. He'd actually have to stop somewhere now.

Joe nodded to the desk sergeant as he walked through the lobby of the police station.

"How's it goin', Morelli? Didn't know you were on tonight," Sergeant Dan Gzvod asked. Gzovd was a slight man who looked to be about 25. His light brown hair was already thinning.

"Pretty good. I'm lookin' for Costanza. He still around?" Joe asked. Gzvod shrugged.

"He may be workin' overtime on that Santos case. He's taking it pretty serious but Gaspick is bucking for accident so I'm thinking they'll go that way," he said casually.

"Gaspick? What's he got to do with it?" Joe asked. He was surprised that with the man being gutted they would shelve the matter so quickly.

"He's assisting on the case. Made detective now that our guys are shipping to New York for relief. Damn shame about all those good officers. I'm collecting you know." He picked a white can up and shook it. Joe could read " New York City Relief Fund" on the side. He pulled out his wallet and shoved a $50 into the can.

"Damn shame," he said remembering his many friends who had died when the towers collapsed while attempting to save those people still trapped inside. Joe promised to stop again on the way out and headed back into the station. He found Gaspick at his desk.

"Where's Carl?" he asked leaning against the opposite desk and crossing his arms.

"He was following up on a lead and wanted to stop in after to check on your girlfriend. We need a statement but he's bucking to give her time," Gaspick answered blandly.

"What's going on with the case?" Joe asked casually. He struggled to look relaxed perching himself on the edge of a desk.

"We're looking at a ruling from the forensic pathologist. She says that he died from a stroke caused by the steroids and was cut up after. I don't think it'll go to inquest. The case is open and shut accidental. No need to waste any more of the taxpayers time or money on the scumbag." Gaspick's expression was one of pure hate.

"The man was cut open. That was no accident," Joe protested vehemently. Gaspick jumped from his seat and leaned over the desk.

"He was a scumbag!" he yelled. "Have you seen the man's fucking rap sheet? He never spent one day in jail! Three convictions for assault and he was up again. Two drug convictions. The man was getting away with murder. Who cares if he died? He's dead and gone and he's never gonna waste another dime of the money that I send to Uncle Sam. You think I'm gonna waste my time investigating the murders of guys like Manoso and Santos? You have fucking lost your mind! Hell, I'd give the guy who killed them a fucking medal if I could." Gaspick's eyes were flashing. For a split second a thought flashed through Joe's mind that this man was capable of murder. Joe leaned across the desk until he was nose to nose with Gaspick. His eyes were black and cold.

"Our job is to protect the people - all of the people. You didn't like Ranger and Lester? Who cares? It's your job as an officer of the law to dig until you come to the truth. Everyone deserves that. You got me, Gaspick?" Joe's tone was low and dangerous.

"That's your opinion, Morelli. How do I know you didn't kill Santos. Everyone knows he was doin' your girlfriend." Gaspick seemed to instantly regret the words. Joe's posture relaxed and he leaned back on the desk smiling amiably.

"Just because everyone knew doesn't mean I did. He was a damn nice guy and he was Steph's friend. There was nothing more than that. I have no reason whatever to want to see him dead." Joe pushed away from the desk and headed to the door. "Tell Costanza to call me." He called back to the baffled but relieved officer.

Joe thought about what Gaspick had said as he made his way home. From the end of the street he saw flashing lights and noticed that police cars were lined up in front of his house. He hoped that nothing had happened to his elderly neighbor and was just running up to check when he noticed Stephanie wrapped in a blanket and seated on the sidewalk. He ran over to her and fell to his knees.

"Are you okay, Cupcake? What happened?" She stared up at him blankly. Carl walked over and Joe grabbed his arm.

"What happened here?" he asked anxiously. Carl pulled him away from Stephanie.

"I stopped by to check on Steph and noticed that the door was open. I walked in and some big muscled guy in a mask had her. She hasn't talked to me yet so I don't know what he was trying to do. The way he had her over the table and the way that her shirt is torn my guess would be rape. He ran when I came in and she started shaking and hasn't said a word to me." Carl nodded at Stephanie. Joe saw that she'd wrapped her arms around her knees and had buried her face.

"Shit," he whispered. "You didn't get anything? Tattoos?" He paused trying to think of other identifying marks but was too shaken.

"No, sorry, man. Steph got a closer look. If we could get her to talk..." his voice trailed off as Stephanie started to shake.

"I'll see what I can get," Joe said running to her side.