Chapter 4

Tank pulled his big red truck into the drive at the facility. "This place is pretty fancy," he commented.

Ranger took a long look at the entrance. He spent most of his time inside, so this was the first time he'd seen the exterior after dark. With lights shining on the manicured landscape, it looked like the porte cochere of a luxury hotel instead of the front door to the retirement community. This was a place for people who had money and were done with the stress of earning it. The residents seemed like a kindly social group who were welcoming to newcomers. Just the kind of place he was ready to escape from.

"It's fancy, but I'm not one for fancy," Ranger said.

"Hah! Good thing. Spending the night at Shorty's with the boys was fun, but it wasn't exactly a sophisticated evening."

Ranger shook his head slightly, remembering Lester and Hal's beer chugging contest. Some things never changed. "It was good to see them all again. I know it hasn't been that long, but for so many years seeing them was a daily occurrence. I feel like I've been in prison here. Thanks for breaking me out tonight."

"No problem," Tank said. He shoved the gearshift into neutral and pulled the parking brake handle. "Do you want me to walk you to the door?"

"I. Do. Not." Ranger bit off. "I'm capable. I got a call from the doctor this afternoon. This contraption is coming out of my leg next week. My recovery will speed up after that. It will basically be just a matter of building up my stamina."

"Good thing I got your stuff all set up in the old safe house. Looks like you're a short-timer here."

"Looks like," Ranger agreed. "Living here has given me a glimpse of what could be in store for us someday. I'm not ready for it yet."

"What's in store for us?" Tank questioned. "You think we're gonna end up roomies in some old folks' home?"

"I don't want to think about it," Ranger said.

"Me neither. To tell you the truth I never thought we'd make it this far. Hey look there!" Tank pointed to the end of the drive. "Ain't that your little therapy girl?"

"It is," Ranger said. "She doesn't usually work nights. And she said she wasn't feeling well earlier today. I wonder what's up." The men watched as she beeped the locks on her vehicle and started walking toward the entrance.

As she neared Tank's truck Ranger rolled down the window and called to her. She looked up, her eyes widening as she recognized him. She came to the open window.

"Good evening, Carlos." She ducked her head to look over at Tank and gave him a wan, but sincere smile. "Hello, Tank." Ranger took a good look at her. Her eyes were puffy and her complexion unusually splotchy. He wondered if she'd been crying. "Are you gentlemen leaving?" she asked.

"No," Ranger said. "We had dinner with friends. Tank was just dropping me off. Cally, are you all right? I'm sorry if I'm intruding on a personal matter, but you don't look well."

"I'm not…unwell. It's just that I had a surprise today. I know it's late, but I was on my way to see you, Carlos. I hoped that you'd have time to talk with me. There is something I want, well, something I need to tell you."

She was tense, and seemed reticent, if determined. Not at all like her normal confident self. "Yes, we can talk," he said. He turned to Tank. "Thanks for the evening out."

"I think maybe it's a good thing that Tank is with you." She leaned her head a little farther into the cab of the truck. "Tank, would you come up to Carlos' apartment with us? I think you should hear what I have to say as well."

Tank shot a quick look at Ranger and then back at Cally, "Uh, sure. Go ahead, Rangeman, and go up with Cally. I'll park the truck and be right up."

Ranger was concerned when he looked across his small living room to the chair where Cally sat. He could see that what was bothering her was important. For a moment he wondered if she was going to impart some terrible news about his leg, but he dismissed the thought as soon as it came. News like that would come from his doctor, and he'd just had good news that afternoon. But why would she want Tank present? He never sensed that she was uncomfortable in his presence, even the first time they'd met when he'd been intentionally rude.

It must be something personal. He thought she'd made some connection earlier in the day when Tank mentioned RangeMan. Possibly she was in trouble and now thought he might be in a position to help with her trouble. He would help this young girl, he realized. They had a connection he couldn't explain, and in a short time she had become important to him.

The door opened, and Tank slipped in. "Sorry," he said. "The visitor's lot was full, and I had to park down the block."

"Not a problem," Ranger said. He didn't take his eyes off Cally. She was nervous. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. Whatever this was, she needed to tell them. "Go ahead, Cally," he said. "Tell us what's troubling you."

Cally took a deep breath and straighten her shoulders. "I'm not troubled, exactly," she said. "I received some surprising news earlier today, and I'm still dealing with the…surprise. I didn't know, until this morning that you were the man known as Ranger, that you owned RangeMan."

Ranger relaxed a little. He'd been right. She needed help and now that she knew his identity, he would help her. "Are you in trouble?" he asked. "Do you need my help?"

"No," she said. "It's nothing like that. I'd heard about a man named Ranger, whose partner was a man named Tank. When I heard Tank refer to you as Ranger this morning, I was shocked. I'd been told you were dead."

Ranger made no reaction other than to raise an eyebrow. Then he looked at his healing leg. "Damaged," he said. "But not dead."

"I don't mean from the accident," she said. "Someone who used to know you thinks you're dead. I know because she told me about you, that you were killed, I mean. The thing is, I think you know this person who told me, but I think you think she's dead."

"What the hell?" Tank muttered.

Cally looked from Ranger to Tank and then back to Ranger. "My mother told me you were dead. Her name is Stephanie Williams, but I think you know her as Stephanie Morelli…and I'm pretty sure you think she's dead!"

Ranger didn't move, didn't react in any discernible way. It was a habit born of necessity many times over. His breathing slowed, and his heart rate dropped. It was his innate way of controlling the adrenaline dump that would threaten his critical thinking. It was a learned response that had saved his life in times past. He'd never needed that control more than he needed it now to process what he'd just heard.

Tank stood, stared at her and then sat back down. "Are you saying that Stephanie Plum is your mother? That you are Joe Morelli's kid?" Tank asked.

"Yes."

"That's not possible," Tank said. He glanced at Ranger, who remained still. "Stephanie Plum, er Morelli, was killed in a car accident along with her daughter and her husband."

"My father was killed," Cally said. "I was a baby and I don't remember him. The public was told it was a hit and run, but it was an intentional assassination. My father was a police detective, and my mother said he was working on something big at the time of his death. Something that involved the mob, maybe. She didn't have any information, but the people that killed my father thought she did. She went into the Witness Protection Program to save her life and to save mine."

"Where is she?" Ranger asked in a soft voice that caused Tank to direct his attention to his former boss. Ranger sensed Tank's concern for him and he made brief eye contact with Tank. It was enough for Tank to know he was in control.

"She's at home in Georgia," Cally said. "But she doesn't know. I thought about it all day and as much as I wanted to call her, I knew I couldn't. She truly thinks you're dead. I don't know what this will do to her. I'm not doing a very good job of this," she said. She turned to Ranger. "Carlos, I'm sure you are the one she told me about. When she told me about my father and what had happened, she told me about you, but she never called you Carlos. She called you Ranger. She didn't want to leave Trenton, to give up her family and her life. She said you would have kept her safe. You were the only one she'd trust, but then they told her you were dead, too. And she knew she had to go. She couldn't put me at risk." Cally ended her explanation with a small sob.

Ranger stood, awkwardly, and mentally cursed the apparatus that made him so ungainly. He started toward Cally. She met him more than halfway and let him embrace her. Slowly he moved her back toward the sofa. He sat and pulled her into his arms and held her while she cried.

Tank watched the scene for a moment before he went in search of a box of Kleenex. He dropped the box next to Cally on the sofa and began talking, completely ignoring the quiet sobs emanating from her.

"Ranger asked me if you reminded me of Stephanie. I told him you reminded me of someone, but I wasn't sure who. Not Stephanie. I didn't see anything of Stephanie in you, except your eyes. But you did look familiar. It bugged me that I couldn't place it. Now I know. You look like your father."

She looked up at Tank through watery eyes and he thought about recanting his statement. He'd seen that exact look on Stephanie's face.

"You knew my father? You believe me then?" Cally asked.

"I knew Joe Morelli, but not as well as Ranger did. Hell yes, I believe you," Tank said.

Cally sat back in the chair and sighed. "I didn't think you would. The story is so preposterous. I didn't believe it when she told me. Not at first, anyway." She looked up at Ranger, who remained silent, but held her gently.

"Ranger and I have lived a life of preposterous," Tank said. "Tell us about your mother."

Tank sat in the armchair and watched his friend hold the young woman close as she told a story that sounded like the plot of a best-seller.