OK, on to chapter 11

Thank you for your feedback, I appreciate it tremendously! And I will try to answer all your questions.

Spoilers: None. It's its own universe, I blame it all on the gin

Rating: PG13 for language, adult situations and whatnot

Disclaimer: I made the whole thing up, I own none of JE's characters, and I'll probably give them back good as new

Out of my Mind

Chapter 11

For the most part, I don't remember much about what I dream at night. Maybe some image or situation will come back to me during the day, but usually, I just know I dreamt, not about what.

I woke up because Riley was giving me cold kisses with his wet nose in an attempt to get enough of my attention to feed him.

I tried to swat him away and rolled onto my back. It didn't work, he jumped right on top of me.

There, he sat down majestically and watched me.

At that moment, the alarm came to life, buzzing annoyingly. I could not remember switching the setting from my favorite radio station to the buzzer, but I still tried to get to the snooze button.

I looked back at Riley. He was smiling now, and, lowering his head, he looked me in the eye and said "Babe."

I jolted awake, looking around disoriented.

It took me a minute to realize what had been the dream and what was reality (or a version of it).

The buzzing continued.

Not from an alarm clock, since I hadn't set the one in the motel, but from the cell phone in my pocket.

It was pitch black in my room, and clock radio announced it was 5 AM.

I had fallen asleep fully dressed, on top of the covers.

With some difficulty, I located the pocket that held my new cell phone, courtesy of RangeMan, and flipped it open.

I meant to say 'Hello?', but I think it sounded more like 'Hunho?'

"Have you decided yet?" Ranger asked, no fatigue in his voice.

"Huh?" Hey, I had identified Ranger as the caller, I think that was pretty smart of me. Figuring out what he was talking about could take a while; I was still trying to clear the cobwebs of sleep.

"You were going to wake up and decide what you were going to do, remember?"

No, I didn't remember. And I couldn't possibly care less at that moment.

I think it was rude to call me at such an ungodly hour and I wanted to tell him so, but that seemed like too much of an effort.

So instead, I just mumbled "I'll talk to you later." and disconnected. I thought I heard Ranger chuckle on the other end just before I hung up, but who knew?

Minutes before, my cat had been speaking with Ranger's voice, so anything was possible.

When I woke up, my room was warm from the late morning sun. I would have slept longer, but the banging on the door, followed by the 'Housekeeping!' holler prevented it.

I got to the door just in time, the maid was about to use her key on it. She didn't seem to mind at all that I was still in the room, and she smiled understandingly when I hung the 'Do not disturb' sign on the door.

Well, now I was up, and I actually felt somewhat refreshed by a good night's sleep.

I grabbed the motel-issued pen and notepad from my night stand and started writing.

'To Do' , it announced proudly at the top, and below, I listed methodically what I wanted to do.

After a serious deep cleaning, I was going to run out in search of a cell phone charger so I could reconnect with 'my' world, I was going to find a Laundromat to wash and dry my only pair of jeans (had I really thought I was going to wear nothing but cargo pants?), I was finally going to cash my check and, most of all, I was going to enjoy the day thoroughly.

I didn't put that last part on my to-do list, but it was part of the plan.

Joe had said "See you tomorrow.", that was something to look forward to.

I felt better already: I had a plan!

After carefully getting everything I would need for an hour or more in the bathroom, I turned the radio on to some heavy metal station and cranked it up. I needed brain scrubbing music.

Then I stepped into the shower and lathered, shaved, buffed, and conditioned to my heart's content.

Afterwards, I brushed my teeth, moisturized and combed my hair, sticking my tongue out at my reflection in the mirror.

I was going to plop down on the bed and relax for a bit, clad only in my towel.

But when I opened the bathroom door, I let out a scream I couldn't stifle in time.

Joe was lying on my bed, relaxed as could be, and he was smiling like the proverbial cat with the canary.

"Jeeeeez!" I yelled. He had scared me shitless, and I wanted him to know he had done something wrong.

"The door was open." Joe said loud enough to be heard over the music, his smile never faltering.

"It said 'Do not Disturb'" I countered, turning off the radio.

"That doesn't count." He replied, underlining his point with a dismissive gesture.

Other than the always-popular 'Does too!', I didn't know what to say, and that seemed kind of childish, so I just made some frustrated noise and rolled my eyes.

I was still standing in the door frame, not knowing which direction to take.

Obviously, I'd need to get to my bag if I wanted to get dressed. But unfortunately, I'd have to walk by the bed to get to the bag, and that meant parading in front of Joe in a bath towel.

On the other hand, if I went back into the bathroom, there was nothing to do and no clothes to change into, so it wouldn't accomplish much.

Which was the lesser of two evils?

I took a deep breath and started walking.

"So, how was your stake out?" I asked by way of making conversation. I didn't want to know if Joe was watching me, so I kept my eyes firmly on my duffel, grabbed some clothes, and turned around without waiting for his response.

Now I had a perfect excuse for locking the bathroom door and spending some time inside.

I knew Joe had said he'd be by, but I hadn't expected him this early.

To look my best, I put extra effort into my hair and make-up. My hair was shoulder-length and pretty straight, so it didn't amount to much until I did the whole mousse-blowdry thing.

That had the added advantage of giving me some time to come up with things to say to Joe.

I finished by putting on some pinkish lip gloss and blew myself a kiss in the mirror.

World, here I was!

Joe and I opened doors at the exact same time: I was trying to get to the bedroom and he had made a coffee run and was just getting back. Hot coffee and Joe after a shower, my life couldn't get much better than that! It gave a whole new meaning to the saying 'Cup of Joe.'

He put the coffees on the table and turned to face me, eyes wandering up and down. Again. Hoping it was a good sign, I smiled a little self-consciously, but was able to meet his eyes as I slowly closed the distance between us.

He avoided the awkward moment I had feared after our kiss the day before by brushing a kiss on my cheek and caressing my jaw line for a beat.

So he wasn't going to pretend it never happened, I realized with butterflies in my stomach.

"Thanks for the coffee." I said slowly, taking a seat.

"My pleasure." He replied with a wink, and that made it more of a quadruple entendre.

He took his cup and sat down across from me.

Today, he was wearing a dark green shirt and stonewashed jeans that were tight enough and wide enough at the same time; they fit him just right.

"You look cute when you step out of the shower." He remarked, and I felt the color creep up my face as I focused on my coffee.

"So how did the stake out go?" I repeated my earlier question to get to a safe topic.

Joe just blew out some air and shrugged.

"The perp didn't show?" I inquired, trying to sound all professional.

He gave a short laugh.

"Wasn't like that, we got word of a drug deal to happen sometime soon, and we were hoping they'd do some setup last night."

"So…have you heard anything from the Senor?" I hoped it had sounded like a by-the-way segue.

His expression changed, as if an invisible veil had been pulled over his face, it became unreadable.

"Like what?" he asked, his voice calm but his eyes intend.

Sandra Cline, master of the subtle subject change.

I cleared my throat and met his gaze.

"Ranger thinks the Senor his after me because he thinks I killed Moreno." I said slowly.

"That's ridiculous!" Joe scoffed. "Why would he be after you? He doesn't know you!"

See, that's exactly what I told Ranger!

"I know, but Ranger…"

Joe cut me off. "Ranger! Who are you going to believe, a cop or a merc?"

He ran a hand through his hair in a frustrated fashion.

Well, usually I believed the hotter guy, regardless of his profession, but since I couldn't make up my mind who was hotter, Joe or Ranger, I was torn. I decided not to reveal that part of my thought process.

"He thinks whoever ran me off the road yesterday works for the Senor."

And that was pretty much his only theory, I realized. It was possible I had forgotten to tell Ranger anything about the love letter with pictures.

Joe shook his head slowly.

"I don't have anything on who crashed into you yet, but I think it's best not to panic. It could have been anyone, for any reason."

Ah, the voice of sanity.

Probably, Ranger had just tried to scare me, to make me be more careful and vigilant.

So Ranger erred on the side of caution, while Joe was being realistic. I liked it.

It was totally different from denial, it was based on facts.

Well, missing facts, but the absence of a clue is a clue, right?

"And I don't see any evidence that the car is related to the note or that either of them is related to the Senor, just because Moreno was who he was. Both could be independent. And they could both be some nutcase's idea of a good joke." Joe explained further.

"Or it could be the same nutcase?" Maybe Joe should stop talking, he made me think. And if I had too much time to think, I may find holes in my theory.

"That's a possibility, too." He confirmed.

Oh, ooh, thought! New idea!

"And the nutcase could be Steve's murderer, because killing Moreno was his earlier idea of a good time, again unrelated?"

That was possible, right?

Joe's eyes narrowed and I could see his whole body tense.

"No." he finally said. "That's not very likely."

"Why not?" I challenged.

He sighed. "Well, I guess technically anything is possible, but that just seems too much of a coincidence. Which unfortunately leaves the option that it wasn't a random murder. And the note with the pictures ties you into the mess."

Could we go back to the earlier version, I liked it a lot better. The one where it was all no big deal? That had been Joe's idea!

He took a deep breath. "Here's what I do know:" he counted off fingers as he spoke, "No blue car has reported to any body shop in the last 24 hours, at least none with damage consistent with the crash. No prints were found on the note or the pictures. The techs were able to pinpoint the kind of printer that was used for the picture of you, but it's a popular kind."

"So really, we have nothing?" I finished for him.

"It's been almost a whole day without any new threat or attempt to kill you, I take that as a good sign." He corrected.

Well, OK, there was that.

"And also," he said, leaning forward "I am not a big fan of construing theories and come up with likely ideas. It's bound to scare you and may focus our attention away from real clues!"

"So what do you think I should do?" He was confusing me with his flip-flopping ideas.

"That's easy. You do nothing. Forget your FTAs for a while, stay away from criminals and their circles. You should be fine."

I didn't like the 'should'. It was the same word I used when talking to users on the phone about computer issues. In theory, I was giving them the solution to their problem, and if they followed instructions exactly, it 'should' work afterwards. On the other hand, his suggestion would let me do everything on my to-do list; tracing skips hadn't been on it anyway.

Joe didn't look like his own words had convinced him.

"You really don't know anything about anything, right?"

I chose to believe he was referring to the case and shook my head no.

"So…if we assume the note is the only thing resembling a connection to you…"

Whatever happened to not liking wild assumptions? He was changing his mid faster than I usually did, and I was an expert at it!

"Ah, forget it." He said defeated. "I can spin this a number of ways, and it still doesn't make any sense."

Oh great, now we were right back at the beginning, way to waste time.

At least he was relaxing a little though.

"Maybe you should call Jeffrey and tell him about his car though."

"Who?" He had lost me.

"Jeffrey Nagel, the owner of the car you crashed." He explained patiently.

"Jeremy." I corrected.

Joe jumped up from his chair.

"What?"

Huh? What had I missed?

"Jeremy Nagel, the friend of a friend, it's his car." Hey, he had brought it up, not me.

"When I told you yesterday that the car belonged to Jeffrey Nagel, you didn't object."

When had he…I frowned in an effort to remember a conversation about the Beetle.

Right, he did ask me at one point who I was and that I probably wasn't…had he said Jeffrey?

'Sorry, Joe, when you speak I only hear every other word because half the time, I'm picturing you naked.' Would be the truth, but even if I wanted to, I would never be able to get through that sentence without stuttering, blushing, sweating, or all of the above.

Joe was glaring down at me now, so I placed my coffee on the table and got up as well. He was still about a foot taller than me, but it was a little better than looking at him from a sitting position.

"I don't follow." I admitted. Truer words were seldom spoken.

Joe shook his head, a gesture that reminded me of exasperated parents who were trying to talk to their toddlers.

"Lindsay, who owns that car?" He pointed stiff-armed towards the door.

"Jeremy Nagel." Who had been nice enough to loan Jess his car to let me drive it and now would hopefully agree to let me pay off the money for the damages in monthly installments.

"Do you know who he is?" Joe asked, his volume up now.

Could somebody yell 'Cut!' already so we could attempt the scene again? I felt like I was missing a big piece of it.

I wanted to say 'I already told you!' but I didn't know if that would make him yell, so I repeated

"He is a friend of a friend from New York, I think he works at a book store. Why?"

There was no way to read Joe's expression. Stephanie had been right about his cop face.

I could imagine the thoughts racing in his head, his eyes looked turned inward.

"Joe?" I tried, touching his arm to get through to him.

He seemed to come back from somewhere far away when his eyes found mine once again.

"The DMV's database told me your car belonged to a Jeffrey Nagel, and there was nothing to know about him." He said.

Okay, no biggie. Typo in the database, it happens.

"Probably someone made a mistake somewhere. The initials are right, the address is right, what's the problem?" I asked, still unable to connect the dots between Jeremy-Jeffrey and Joe's aggressive reaction.

Joe shook his head.

"That's not the point. Jeffrey Nagel is nobody, a faceless name. Jeremy Nagel is a big name. He is a big problem for the Miami-Dade police department, their vice and homicide teams are working overtime, and they have been unable to stop his success or even put a dent into is expansion for years.'

My eyes grew wide.

"Not MY Jeremy Nagel! He lives in New York!" I said a tad too shrill even to my own ears.

And then the pieces clicked together and my knees buckled.

Joe caught me before I hit the floor and steered me towards the bed where he sat down next to me.

I wanted to ask if I had made the right connection, but I needed to put air into my lungs first. Seemed like a big task.

To everyone, I was just an ordinary girl driving around in her car. The nobody I really was. Then maybe, someone decided to check me out and start with trying to get my name through my car. They wouldn't get my name, they would get Jeremy's. Or, if they were the police, Jeffrey's.

Maybe that someone had wondered who I was when they had seen me at a crime scene, Steve Moreno's apartment to be precise.

So now they had a name and that name would raise eyebrows in certain circles. Maybe they hadn't made the effort to see if they had the right Jeremy pegged.

That's where I fit in; someone thought I was working for a mob boss from Miami.

It occurred to me that Ranger had been right on the money when he had assumed I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

When I managed to take in a full breath of air, I ran my suspicion by Joe and he nodded.

"So now you think the Senor thinks that Jeremy the mob boss wants to take over his territory and sent me to do it?"

Joe raised his eyebrows. "I think that's a jump to a big conclusion, but it may be in the ballpark. The more likely scenario is that it's considered rude to infiltrate someone else's scene and the annoyance must be eliminated."

He put his arm around me and pulled me towards him.

"Remember, Sweatpea, this is all just a guessing game at this point. I told you what a slippery slope assumptions can be. Don't rule out that we are wrong!" He said soothingly while running his fingers through my hair.

I wanted to believe him, and if it hadn't been for the disturbing pictures with the note, I almost could.

The question was which theory I was going to focus on.

I could either let myself be scared, crawl under the covers and never see the outside of my motel room, or I could decide that I needed proof first and continue my life as Joe had originally suggested.

The loudest voice in my head screamed that it was totally crazy and didn't make any sense; that I was jumping to conclusions because I had watched too many movies.

Some calm voice piped up and reminded me none of this was real anyway, so there was nothing to be scared off.

And from out of nowhere, Jess popped up in my head and asked me why I wasn't making out with Morelli already, being that I had him setting next to me.

A lot of good these voices did me.