Chapter 13

Ranger shook the hand of the director of the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center and promised he'd be in touch with his decision. Instead of returning immediately to his home he'd explained that he would make his own return travel plans. Ostensibly he was going to stay and explore the community before he made his decision, and the FLECT director was excited about the prospect of nabbing Ranger as a faculty member. Ranger had been surprised at the tickle of interest the facility had sparked in him.

The facility occupied an old naval base and the quality of the training was superb. He'd gone through the interview process as a cover for his real agenda, but to his surprise, he found the prospect of teaching an intriguing one. Ranger knew he would be an asset to the program, but his unexpected interest was far secondary to his primary objective. He left the facility and returned to his hotel, where he began to implement his real reason for coming to Georgia.

His lower leg was throbbing as he pulled the folded brace from his luggage. He'd purposefully left it off and toured FLETC without benefit of brace or cane. He'd managed to spend the entire day, much of it on his feet without limping or showing any other sign of weakness.

It was important to him that he presented himself as healthy, capable and recovered from the accident that had delayed his initial response to the government request for his consideration. Despite his unexpected interest he had no desire to immerse himself in full-time work for the government. Been there, done that. Still it was important to him that he presented himself as fully capable. He would be the one to decide he wasn't the one for the job, not the government.

The feel of Cally's capable hands on the muscles of his lower leg would have been welcome. For a moment he considered and then rejected the thought of pain medication. Cally would have been both pleased and irritated with his performance he knew. Pleased that he had the endurance and irritated that he'd taken the risk of straining his damaged lower leg muscles. He grimaced as he placed the brace on his leg. He'd spend an uncomfortable night after his day's exertion. It wasn't as if the pain would keep him from sleeping. He had other plans that would ensure he had a sleepless night.

Stephanie was in a temper. She marched upstairs to her bedroom and began to methodically disrobe, tossing each piece of clothing with increasing ire toward the armchair in the corner of her room. When she was naked, she stomped into the adjoining bathroom and turned the shower on full force.

The nerve of him…the nerve of him! She repeated it over and over in her mind as she stood under the pulsating stream of hot water. Clouds of steam arose and enveloped her as she remained motionless. Her turmoil slowly ebbed as she relaxed, and she began to reconsider the evening's events in a calmer manner.

In a rare break from protocol Alan had suggested dinner instead of a business meeting to discuss her plans for the expansion of Antiope. She should have said no but she thought they had reached the point in their relationship that it would be okay to mix the two. She'd been wrong.

It hadn't taken her long to realize that his advice against expanding her business was based on his desire to have her cut back on business for personal reasons. He wanted to retire, and he wanted a complacent little woman to travel with him and enjoy a leisurely life. He'd used his wants as a basis for trying to talk her out of the new facility. He only had her best interests at heart, he'd said.

Cally wasn't interested in taking over her mother's business. Stephanie didn't need to expand for financial reasons. At her age, Alan suggested it might be better to give up her plans for the new gym, and to hire a professional manager to run the facilities she had. He presumed she'd want to retire before too many more years. He presumed too much!

After her shower, Stephanie briskly dried herself and went to find her oldest most comfortable t-shirt. She knew she should take time to put product in her hair but decided she could shower again in the morning. It would be the only solution to calming the frizz bomb her hair would have turned into by that time. She was not inclined to spend time on grooming now. She wanted wine and sympathy, and the hour was sufficiently early that she was going to get both.

There was a bottle of gewürztraminer chilling in her fridge. She'd started keeping one ready when Alan started staying over. It was his favorite, and it was sweet enough that she enjoyed it as well. She poured her glass full to the brim and curled up on her sofa. Wine glass in one hand and cell phone in the other, she considered her options. She could call Cally, but Cally didn't know how close she and Alan had gotten lately. She could call Nora, but Nora might not want to hear her former partner complaining about business issues. Without warning the ache that she'd learned to live with blossomed and for a moment threatened to make her lose control.

Oh, how she wanted to call Lula, or Connie! She wondered what path her friends' lives had taken. Many was the time she'd been tempted to search the internet, to surreptitiously follow their lives, but the fear of being found out always stopped her. Now, with Cally living in Jersey, Stephanie knew more than ever she couldn't take the risk. Cally had to remain anonymous, her connection to Joe Morelli unknown by whomever still loomed and waited.

She didn't know what Joe had been in the middle of, but it must have been something big. In the beginning she hoped there would be a quick resolution and that suddenly she and Cally could just reappear. In the early years it was that hope that got her through. Later, she tucked that hope into a far corner of her mind. Cally was growing and flourishing in a life that was normal for her but far from it for her mother. For the millionth time she wondered how it would have been different had Ranger not been killed on his mission.

Her glass was empty. She got up and refilled and found her way back the sofa. Her phone was on the end table, and she knew it would stay there. There was no one to call. She'd do what she'd always done. Figure it out on her own.

Her mind wandered back to the time before. She and Joe had started out happy in their short marriage. When she got pregnant things had changed, but they hadn't had a chance to come to a head, before he'd been killed. She'd never agreed to be the typical Burg wife. She'd given up her job for Vinnie as soon as she found out she was pregnant. That had made Joe happy, and in truth she'd been ready for a little time off. In her mind she'd find a new occupation after the baby came. Joe's assumption that she'd be a stay-at-home mom was a misconception. She'd only just started to look for work when the arguing started.

He'd scowled when she told him she was going to find a job, but when he found out she was exploring the possibility of working at RangeMan, he'd gone ballistic. Full-on Italian hand waving and screaming that had made his face so red she'd been worried about a stroke. She wanted to be forthright with Joe and tell him she knew everything, but something held her back.

She'd backed off momentarily on the RangeMan idea, using the time to plan a strategy. Still, their relationship was tension-filled, but she had hoped things would calm and they'd work things out amicably. Then the unthinkable had happened. Joe had been killed. Ranger had been killed. She took another sip of wine and let her mind teeter on the edge of her long-ago fantasy. What would have happened if Ranger hadn't died? She shook her head to clear the thought. It was of no consequence now.

The wine glass was empty again, and she still had some thinking to do. She refilled it and settled in to consider why she'd had such a reaction to Alan's suggestion. Part of her knew that everything he said was logical. The other part of her didn't like him presuming he knew what was best for her. Maybe she should cut him some slack. Maybe she was reacting to issues she'd had with Joe that were still and would always remain unresolved.

She was shocked to see the bottle which had been full was now nearer to empty. She moderated her next pour and returned the bottle to the fridge. There was probably only one glass left. It had been forever since she'd drank that much wine in one evening. Her trip back to the sofa was made with concentration and careful steps. She was her own designated walker, because there was no one to help her balance. Was this what she had become? An angry old woman abandoned by her daughter and betrayed by her lover, left to drink alone with no one to commiserate her unhappiness?

No. She hadn't been abandoned by Cally. Cally was coming home in a few days. Cally had an independent nature much like her mother's. Stephanie had inherited her independence from her grandmother and passed it on to her daughter.

And Alan hadn't betrayed her. He wasn't Joe. He wasn't trying to micromanage her life. She'd asked for his opinion, and then when he'd given it, she'd come unhinged.

Sighing, she picked up her phone and called Alan. He answered on the first ring.

"Hey," she said softly in answer to his greeting. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," he said softly. "I think I overstepped a little tonight."

"No, you didn't," Stephanie said. "I asked for your opinion, and you gave it. I think I overreacted and I'm not sure why. But the thing is, I'm really sorry."

"Would you like me to come over?" he asked. "That way we could argue about who's the sorriest and spend some time making up."

She smiled. He was hopeful and conciliatory. He was a nice man. "Not tonight," she told him. "I came home and drank most of a bottle of wine, and now all I'm good for is bed."

"That sounds perfect," he said, and she laughed out loud.

"It would be far from perfect, I'm pretty sure," she told him. "I'm very tipsy. I think we just have to write off tonight."

"Okay, what about tomorrow?" he asked.

"I've got a really full day, and then I have to get ready for Cally's visit. She'll be here on Saturday, but I think I can make time for you on Friday night. I'll call you tomorrow night. Maybe we can meet at the office on Friday evening. I promise to listen more patiently to your ideas. Then we can go out to dinner and..."

"And, that 'and' sounds intriguing. I'll hold you to that promise," he said, "We'll have dinner…and! I'll just have to be satisfied with dreams of you tonight, darling."

They disconnected and she made her way up to her bedroom, slowly with her hand tightly around the rail. She went into her bathroom and grimaced as she caught sight of her hair. It was corkscrewing wildly and unsymmetrically around her head. She bent to pick up the towel she'd carelessly dropped earlier and stood slowly as she watched the room revolve. Ugh, she should have stopped with one glass.

As she made her way to her bed, she saw the clothes she'd flung across her armchair. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she'd pick them up. Right now, she was going to bed. Maybe she'd dream of Ranger.

When the alarm went off, her first thought was she hadn't dreamed at all. Her second thought was she was way too old for a hangover. She threw back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. As she started to stand, her heart came to her throat and she fell back against the pillows. She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them to refocus. She still saw the same thing. Her armchair had been pulled close to the side of the bed, as if someone had been sitting in it.

Her heart was beating so fast, she couldn't catch her breath. Had someone been in the chair or had she gotten up in the night and for some reason moved it? She wasn't sure. And then her eyes fell to the floor. Next to the chair her discarded clothes were folded neatly. And not just folded neatly but folded in a special way that she had seen a long time ago. Her t-shirt had been smoothed and carefully folded and then rolled in just the way she'd seen Ranger do it when he packed his bag before going into the wind. It was a military thing; a technique called, of all things, the ranger roll.

When he'd first told her about it, they'd laughed because she'd asked him if it was named after him. He'd explained that not only was it not named after him, but that every military man was trained in the technique.

Someone had been in her home. There was a time in her life when uninvited visitors were commonplace. She thought about those days and wondered why this was happening again. It seemed someone who had known her well had come back for a visit, but that was impossible. He was gone. Had her location finally been discovered? Was Cally safe? Was someone still in her apartment? Disregarding her safety, she made her way downstairs to where she'd left her phone. Thank God, Cally answered on the first ring.

"Cally, are you okay?"

"Mom, are you okay?"

"Yes, but you're sure? You're okay?"

"Mom! I'm at work. I'm perfectly fine. What's wrong?"

"I, I," Stephanie took a deep breath and tried to settle her racing pulse. "I think I had a nightmare. I don't know. I just woke up and thought…I thought you were in danger."

"Are you having another panic attack?" Cally asked. Stephanie could hear the concern in her voice.

With an effort to sound calm Stephanie answered her daughter. "No. The truth is, well, it's a little embarrassing. I had too much wine last night. I think I was having a bad dream and when I woke up, I thought you were in trouble. I'm sorry, honey. I'm sorry to bother you at work."

"You're not bothering me. I'll be home in two days, and I think we need to have some serious conversation. But until then, Mom, you can call me anytime. Day or night. Okay?"

"Okay. I will, if I need to. I can't wait to see you."

"Me too, Mom." They disconnected.

Stephanie went to her front door. It was locked with the security chain in place. It looked as though it hadn't been tampered with. Her thoughts once more lingered on the idea that it was Ranger. It wasn't possible, but it was looking more and more like someone wanted her to think it was possible.

Slowly she made her way back upstairs. She hadn't been lying to Alan when she told him she had a full day, today. She needed to get ready and get to the gym. She needed to be out of this house. Her head was pounding, and her stomach roiled. She would pay for last night's wine all day.

Later as she sat at her desk trying to concentrate, there was a tap on her office door and Paul stuck his head in. "Hey boss, I've got a delivery here for you." He looked as if he wanted to ask questions as he made his way across the room and set the package on her desk.

She jumped to her feet sending her chair reeling backwards. "Who brought this? Is he still here?"

"Uh, no," Paul said. "He's gone."

"Did you see him? What did he look like?"

"He's gone, but he looked like the regular Uber Eats dude. There's a receipt there. It's on the corporate card. You okay?"

"Yeah," Stephanie said, weakly. "I'm okay." She looked down at the receipt stapled to the bag. She could plainly see the last four digits of the Antiope credit card that only she had.

Paul, taking her at her word, left her office. Stephanie, with shaking hands sat down and opened the bag. Large fries from McDonald's, and a large coke. Someone had just had her hangover cure delivered. It was a hangover cure she hadn't consumed in over twenty years.

It was time. She turned to her computer and opened Chrome. Carefully she typed Carlos Mañoso into the search bar. She found nothing so she tried Ranger Mañoso with no better success. Then she searched RangeMan. And there it was. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a line three-fourths of the way down the page. CEO Ricardo C. Mañoso authorizes sale of RangeMan LLC to national security firm. C. Ricardo was his father. Ricardo C. was Ranger. The date of the article was nine months previous. It had taken her less than ten minutes to discover the truth. Ranger. Was. Alive.