CHAPTER 24

Don't Shoot the Messenger

Helen stood at the large hospital window, looking off into the distance at the majestic beauty of the Pine Barren's, contemplating how Stephanie ended up practically at deaths door. As a mother, it was hard for her to sit back and watch her youngest child make mistakes and it had been downright torture for her ever since Stephanie started working as a bounty hunter.

She turned away from the window, surveying the room. Late last night, Stephanie had been moved from CCU to this private suite in the cardiac wing. Helen hadn't stayed in many hospitals in her life, but she recognized a luxurious one when she saw it. It made her wonder how much Stephanie's friend, Ranger, was paying to keep her daughter comfortable.

She focused her thoughts on the enigmatic man. She didn't know much about him; no one else seemed to know much either. Maybe the more accurate statement would be that no one was talking—and that included Stephanie. Helen wasn't blind. She could see that Ranger was a nice-looking young man who seemed devoted to her daughter, but she was missing a piece to the puzzle. She wanted to ask him flat out what his intentions were regarding Stephanie, but something told her that wouldn't go over well.

For now, she'd hold her tongue and watch how everything unfolded. When Stephanie got better, she'd warn her to be careful with her heart so she didn't get hurt, not that it would do any good. Stephanie was stubborn about taking her advice. Helen gave a disparaging snort. Who was she kidding? Stephanie always did the opposite of whatever she suggested.

Stephanie's stubborn streak was what made her stand out in the Burg, and as her mother, Helen was watched just as closely. It made the busy bodies feel better about themselves when they pointed out other women's faults. But what they didn't know, or understand, was that it further divided women as a group.

It wasn't that Helen cared what others thought—it was more that she wanted the best for her daughters. Sadly, the Burg had its own social hierarchy, and if you wanted to fit in, you had to act and perform a certain way. She should know, she'd tried for years to fit in, asking herself many times if the effort was worth it. Trying to be perfect was exhausting which is why she couldn't make it through the day anymore without a drink… or two.

The nip she'd taken at the hotel before coming to see Stephanie was humbling. Her daughter was fighting for her life and she'd needed a quick drink. It had started so innocently. At the time, a little sip of rum while adding it to the cake mix hadn't seemed to hurt anyone, but then it became more than a sip. And then a little more. Until—.

The door opened and she turned to see a man with a flaming skull tattoo enter, carrying a vase of fresh cut daisies. He placed them on the counter with the rest of the get-well gifts and left without saying a word. Stephanie had only been in this room a few hours, and already it was filling up with bouquets of flowers, plants, balloons, stuffed animals, and gift baskets—you name it and it was here. It made her happy to know her daughter was well loved.

She rearranged the daisies to their best advantage and stood back to observe her work. Satisfied with the result, she turned toward Stephanie's bed and sighed. Waiting for her to wake up was taking its toll on Helen. She'd been by her bedside for two days now, and Dr. Powell wanted to wait another day before bringing her out of sedation.

When the door opened and Frank walked in, she melted into his arms, gaining strength from his presence. They stood side by side while Helen pulled the blanket back, revealing Stephanie's right arm. "Look at her Frank, she's skin and bones." Her voice shook with emotion as she looked up into Frank's eyes. "It's worse than the phase she went through in high school. Do you remember when she stopped eating that summer? I got so worried that I took her to the doctor," Helen continued before he could answer. "It took her quite some time to put that weight back on."

Frank nodded his head and squeezed Helen closer. He did remember that summer. He'd been scared for his daughter's health and didn't know how to help her either. He was man enough to admit he was clueless about women, but even he could see that Stephanie had been hurting back then. The only person she'd talk to was the Molnar girl. And now, years later, he still didn't know how to help his daughter. "She'll be alright," he assured his wife. "As soon as Dr. Powell says it's okay, you'll cook for her and, she'll put the weight back on just like before."

Helen nuzzled into her husband and let the tears flow. "I don't know Frank; something tells me this time it's not going to be that easy for her to come back to us." She angrily waved her hands over Steph's body. "The things he did to her, just look at the marks on her wrists and ankles." She gave a frustrated sigh and tucked the blanket back around Stephanie. "Why won't she quit that job?"

It was the same story with Helen. She hated Stephanie's job, and wanted her to settle down, but Frank knew Stephanie wasn't like the other girls in the Burg. She'd tried to make her mother happy by marrying and settling down, and it had been a disaster. He leaned back so he could see her face clearly. "We don't know that this had anything to do with her job."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Of course, it does. It's always about that damn job. If Vinnie hadn't hired her, she'd be married by now with a child of her own to take care of."

"If she wanted that kind of life, she'd have it." He let out a frustrated breath. "You have to let her make her own decisions. The more you criticize and pressure her, the more you push her in the direction you don't want."

Ranger chose that moment to step into the room. He'd arrived just behind Frank and decided to give them a moment alone with Stephanie before he went inside. Unfortunately, he couldn't help overhearing as Helen whined about Stephanie's life choices and that pissed him off. She was entirely to focused on her own wishes and not enough on what made Stephanie happy. The way he saw it, if she really loved her daughter, she'd be more interested in her happiness. But now was not the time to start a battle with Helen Plum.

Frank took a hard look at Ranger, noticing his fresh clothes, and slightly damp hair. He'd obviously gone to the hotel and showered, but his eyes were still tired. The man was a mystery to him. It was clear that Ranger was in love with Stephanie, but he couldn't figure out why he didn't do anything about his feelings. He gathered Helen's purse, and handed it to her. "Why don't we go down to the cafeteria for breakfast? Carlos will stay with her for a while." She nodded and took her purse from him.

Ranger watched them leave, grateful for the man's consideration. After talking with Steph's doctor early this morning, he'd been assured she was out of the woods. It'd been almost 48 hours since they'd found her, and he'd been past due for a shower. Helen had promised to call him immediately if there were any changes.

He hadn't liked leaving her, but his men would make sure no one entered her room unless they were verified hospital personnel or an authorized visitor. Stephanie's kidnapper was still on the loose, and since she could personally testify to his crimes, she was still a target. Her kidnapper might be desperate enough to tie up loose ends, but Ranger wasn't going to let anything else happen to Stephanie.

He sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hand. "I'm back, Babe. Had to go get cleaned up." He smiled even though she couldn't see him. "I was starting to get a little ripe." He leaned in close, kissing her forehead, and letting her smell the Bvlgari on his skin. He knew how much she loved his scent, and thankfully, Ella had included a bottle in the bag she packed.

The bruises on her face were starting to fade to a mixture of green and yellow. It was visible proof her body was healing, but he couldn't help wondering what was happening on the inside. He knew full well some scars never healed. He didn't want to contemplate what all she went through. When she got out of here, she was going to need to see a therapist and he'd make sure she moved to a better apartment. Those were things he could help with—and he would. He'd do anything she needed if she'd just come back to him.

He gently rubbed the back of his fingers over her swollen cheeks and whispered, "What happened to you, Babe?"

It was late afternoon when Tank poked his head into Stephanie's room. "Can I come in?"

Ranger gave him a barely detectable nod and Tank made his way to the other side of the bed. Ranger could see the weariness around the big man's eyes. Overseeing Rangeman and finding Stephanie's kidnapper was taking its toll on Tank. Thankfully, Ranger's Uncle Alejandro, COO of the Miami branch, sent a few of his best men to help with the day to day running of the Trenton office.

"How is she?" Tank asked quietly.

"Better," Ranger said as he kissed the tips of her fingers, never taking his eyes off her. "Report."

Tank knew that Ranger wasn't asking how the company was doing. He wanted to know about the investigation. Normally, Ranger was all business, but right now, he couldn't muster a care for anything but Stephanie.

Tank cleared his throat, wishing he had better news. "We haven't been able to come up with any actionable leads." He fought the urge to sigh in frustration. "I have every available man combing the Pine Barren's. They're searching all structures, traveling along all the trails and roads, and knocking on every door. So far, everyone has complied with requests to enter their homes and look around. There's been no sign of any place that could have been used to hold Stephanie. And no one's behaved suspiciously."

"What did you get from the truck?"

"The explosion destroyed the VIN number and the phone. The feds sent them to their lab anyway. Maybe their techs can pull something, but it doesn't look hopeful. The only thing we were able to salvage was the plates."

"Registration?"

Tank lowered his eyes, shaking his head in regret. "They were registered to a 2011, Chevy Impala. Owner is seventy-two-year old Thelma Washington from Hamilton Township. She wasn't aware the plates were missing."

"I want to know everything about her," Ranger said. "Does she have a son or grandson, a maintenance man, someone who mows her yard?"

"She has a clean record," Tank said as he referred to his phone. "She taught fourth grade for forty years, and never married. No children. A neighbor boy, fourteen-year-old, Elias Rosen, cuts her grass and takes care of the gardening. He has no priors, perfect attendance, all around good student. Her groceries are delivered by her next-door neighbor, June Saperstein, every Wednesday. She has no other visitors. She lives on a fixed income and only drives to her doctor's appointments. The last one was December third. The car is kept inside a locked garage, and there were no signs of forced entry. Most likely the tag was stolen from the doctor's office parking lot."

Usually Ranger's emotions were barely detectable, but right now he was having a hard time controlling the desire to put his fist through the wall. "The phone Stephanie used to call for help; who was the number registered to?"

Tank mentally braced himself, knowing that Ranger wasn't going to like hearing what he had to tell him. "It was a burner."

That was a disappointment, but nothing Ranger hadn't expected. He thought about the clothes she was wearing when they found her, remembering the amount of blood on them. "What about the skin under her fingernails, and the blood on her hands and clothes?"

"There were two different types," Tank said. "One matched Stephanie and the other is from an unknown white male. DNA profile suggests his age is between 30 and 35 years of age. The feds didn't find a match when they ran it through CODIS."

That didn't help at all. They already knew her abductor was a white male in the same age range as Stephanie and that he was smart enough not to leave any clues behind, but he'd messed up somewhere along the way because Stephanie had gotten free. "How much of the blood was from Stephanie?" Ranger asked.

"Hard to tell, but the lab estimates twenty percent was from her and the rest came from the unsub."

Interesting. Ranger wasn't sure what to make of that. Where were her clothes? Had she injured the man somehow and then put his clothes on before she fled? What if her abductor was hurt badly? He could need medical attention. There were too many questions and not enough answers. "Check all the hospitals within a one-hundred-mile radius for an injured man fitting the profile, and if you don't find anything, expand the search parameters." He considered the actual clothing she was wearing when she was found. Maybe they held a clue that would help them find him. "What about the clothing itself? What does it tell us about the unsub?"

Tank referred to his phone for exact measurements. "Pockets were empty. Pants were men's size 32, shirt and coat size large, and boots size 10."

Ranger's jaw clenched. "Check the labels. Find out where they were bought. Show the sketch to the sales people and see if they recognize him."

"I'll run them down," Tank said, and then waited patiently, sensing Ranger had more to add.

Ranger paused for moment, taping his finger on the bedside rail—considering. "Put together a full dossier on Special Agent Barry Hobbs." He shifted his jaw from side to side—his nostril's flaring. "He seems to have a major issue with Stephanie, and I want to know why." The muscles in Ranger's back were coiled tight, spoiling for a fight.

"Consider it done," Tank said. They'd been friends since boot camp, forced to do things that would have mentally broken most men. And right now, Tank was seriously worried about Ranger's mental state. It didn't take a genius to decipher the subtext involving his orders. Ranger wanted to hurt someone—and if he couldn't hurt the man who kidnapped Stephanie, he'd settle for the man who was disrespecting her. Which meant Agent Hobbs was in real danger. But, like always, he had Ranger's back, and in this case, it looked like that meant ensuring he stayed out of prison. Ranger had saved his life more times than he could count and now it was time for him to return the favor.

At the same time, Tank also had to take care of Rangeman business, which was behind schedule. There were contracts to sign, new employees to interview, and payroll to approve. Emilio would be heading back to Miami soon and taking his men with him. It had been helpful having them here to handle the day to day operations, freeing up the rest of the men to search for Stephanie, but things were settling down, and it was time for them to go home.

Ranger gently lay Stephanie's hand back on the bed and walked over to the window, looking out at the Pine Barren's. He was feeling restless not being an active part of the investigation, but right now Stephanie needed him. He was the only one who could calm her when she got agitated. "Find out everything the feds have on the investigation, I want Rangeman in the loop every step of the way. If they give you any problems, let me know." No matter what he had to do or how long it took, Ranger was going to find the man that did this to her, and when he did, he was going kill him.

"Give 'Little Girl' my best," Tank said and left without another word.

As the door shut behind Tank, Ranger took a deep breath and let his head fall back on his shoulders. He'd expected better news. When Stephanie woke up, he wanted to be able to tell her that her kidnapper would never hurt her again. Whoever this man was, he was smart, calculating, and evil. Ranger would track him to hell and back if that's what it took.

He sat on the edge of her bed again, taking her hand in his as he replayed the last word's she spoke to him before she was taken.

'I guess I want to know if you're in love with me—the kind of love people build a future on.'

Why hadn't he told her the truth—that she was everything to him—and nothing else mattered? His stupid lifestyle was just an excuse, one he'd used countless times when women became clingy. He wasn't supposed to use it with her—but he had. More than once. When he closed his eyes, he could still see all the emotions as they crossed her face that day. There was love and hope—but what haunted him the most was the flash of disappointment when she realized he wasn't going to offer her more. That one look broke his heart. He felt it like a physical punch.

'Your lifestyle is what you make it, Ranger. If you wanted to change things, you would.'

She shook her head and forced a smile on her face, not the least bit fooled by his half-assed reasoning. The smile was a little too bright at first, and then it slowly dimmed, turning bittersweet. He'd done that. He'd taken her light and darkened it. If he could do it over, he'd like to think he'd make a different choice. If he was honest with himself—and he always tried to be—he could admit she was his end game. If he was ever going to settle down and have a future, he wanted it to be with her.

Then she did something unexpected. She kissed him long and hard and when she pulled away, he felt the difference. Something had shifted between them. She'd looked up at him, giving him a lopsided smile, reflecting her sadness and regret. She was pulling back emotionally, and he felt it like a blast of arctic wind.

She thought he was choosing not to be with her—that he didn't love her enough—but she was wrong. He loved her enough not to get her killed. Being with him was an open invitation for his enemies to take revenge on him. If they knew he had a weakness, they'd use her as leverage against him—or worse—kill her. He'd die before he let that happen.

But maybe it already had. Maybe what happened to her was a warning from someone in his past. All the torture she went through could be because of him. The fact is, he didn't know. It made him feel things he hadn't felt since Julie had been kidnapped because of him. He wasn't a man prone to fear. If he had a problem, he concocted a plan and executed it flawlessly, but with all his various contingency plans—he never saw Stephanie coming. She was a force of nature, floating in and out of his life at will. He flirted with the idea of sharing closet space with her, and possibly offering her something more—someday—but it always seemed unattainable.

If he'd listened to his heart, he'd have moved her into his seventh-floor apartment where she would have been safe. Instead of giving her the option, he sat back and let her continue living in her unsafe apartment. But that was his inflated ego talking because there had never been a chance Stephanie would accept his offer to live with him, not without a commitment, and that was something he didn't think he could ever offer her.

But losing her was something he couldn't face either. It was unacceptable, and yet it almost happened. His heart raced just thinking about how close it had been. All the nights he stayed up, searching for her as his guilt slowly ate away at him. Someone had been following her—been in her apartment—talked with her family, and he hadn't known.

Why didn't she come to him?

He was afraid he knew the answer. He'd left her with no hope of a future, and she didn't think she could come to him anymore. He had no one to blame but himself.