Chapter 41

Talk To The Hand

I'd spent many long hours sitting in crappy cars on stakeouts, but the hour I'd spent in the shrink's office had been one of the longest of my life. I'd rather wrestle Punky Balog, my not so favorite Vaseline covered octogenarian skip, than endure something like that again. But now that we were back in the Turbo and on our way to pick up Rex, I felt nothing but relief that the therapy session was behind me.

I cast a sideways glance at Ranger to try and get a read on how he was feeling. Pointless attempt… I know. But he had to be traumatized after being drooled all over by that doctor. I couldn't blame her, though. He was something to behold in his black button-down shirt and black slacks tailored to effortlessly drape over his muscles. Her reaction reminded me of the way Bob's eyes light up when he unexpectedly spots a squirrel in the backyard. Normally, my jealousy would have reared its ugly head, but in this case, I was embarrassed by her behavior. I felt like I should apologize to Ranger on behalf of my gender. Any idiot could have seen that he wasn't interested. In fact, he looked pretty angry.

It didn't get much better once I was in the office alone with her. I had to use all my mental fortitude to endure the sound of her voice. My poor ears. I was convinced she'd sucked a helium tank dry. At times, the pitch got so high I visibly winced until she took a breath.

One look at the pampered princess and I knew she wouldn't be able to help me, even if I'd been open to the process, which I wasn't. She asked question after question, trying to get me to talk about my 'dreadful experience' as she called it. My silence did nothing to deter her. She tried to empathize with me, as if she could possibly relate to what I'd been through. But we had nothing in common. Her peppy approach to life made mine appear dull. Even before Durant kidnapped me, I felt like a loser. My life was going nowhere. But I must have done something right because I was alive, wasn't I? I'd made it out of the cellar. I didn't think that the good doctor could have done that.

While she tried to get me to open up, the strangest thoughts ran through my mind. I was obsessed with imagining what she'd been doing while I'd been locked away in the cellar. As she talked, I constructed scenarios of her going on dates with men dressed in fine suits, eating at fancy restaurants, and leaving food on her plate because she didn't want to get fat or appear a glutton… while I'd spent countless hours in the cellar with my stomach grinding painfully from hunger. I imagined her in her clean warm bed, cuddled up to one of her besotted dates… while I was freezing in the cold cellar. And I imagined a masseuse working her tired muscles and then slathering expensive lotions onto her unblemished skin… while my skin was being split open with a leather belt and cold ointment was rubbed over the wounds by a deranged serial killer.

I studied her and felt nothing but anger. No. There was no way she could help me. There was no way this tiny Barbie doll could possibly understand what I'd lived through. Probably the worst thing to ever happen to her was chipping a nail. I was getting myself worked up again and I needed to calm down. Judging other people on their life choices wasn't the kind of person I was. I tried to mind my own business and here I was tearing this woman apart in my mind. I should be ashamed.

Ranger stopped at a red light and looked over at me. As if he could hear my thoughts, he said, "You didn't like her."

Even though it wasn't a question, I still answered. "No."

"I'll find another therapist."

"Don't bother," I quickly said. "I only came because you were worried about me, but you have nothing to be concerned about. I'm going to be fine."

Sensing that I wasn't going to change my mind, he let it go, but I knew it was only temporarily. "At least let me get the prescriptions filled," he said. "You might find that they help."

"I'll take the medication… for now." That had been the only good thing to come out of the appointment. The panic attacks I'd been experiencing were debilitating and they came out of nowhere. I was concerned and more than a little afraid. I was hoping the anti-anxiety medication and the tranquilizers would get me through until my mind straightened out.

He seemed to be pleased to hear that I wasn't arguing about taking the medication. I'm sure he was hoping it would work so well that I'd have no choice but to see another doctor in order to get my prescription renewed.

Even though I wasn't personally able to relate to Dr. Mereck, that didn't mean she wasn't knowledgeable in her field. She told me that my brain was resilient, and that it would take time to heal, but that I might experience flashbacks and nightmares while it does. She also warned me that I was dissociating myself from what happened in the cellar and that the panic attacks were a symptom of PTSD that would only get worse unless I found a way to deal with what was causing them. To help combat the symptoms, she suggested I try something called grounding. I was supposed to pick something comforting that involved the five senses and when I started to panic, she wanted me to focus on whatever I'd chosen as if it were a talisman to ground me to the present instead of the past where the memories would consume me.

Oh, and she wanted me to exercise. I was supposed to take up yoga or running… anything to keep the body active. For a minute, I wondered if Ranger had paid her to say that. Then she asked me something that left me stunned. "Do you have thoughts of hurting yourself or others?"

Where did she get this stuff? The only person I'd wanted to hurt was already dead. "I'm not going to kill myself if that's what you're asking," I told her. "I fought way too hard to live."

She nodded her head, glad that I'd alleviated her fears, but her eyes told me she wasn't one hundred percent sure she believed me. "Tell me what was going through your mind when you chopped your hair off."

Finally, we were getting to the reason for this visit. I'd wondered when she would ask. Since I didn't want to sound like a crazy person, I couldn't tell her the truth, that I felt great while I was cutting my hair. I felt powerful. I was in control of something for a change. Instead, I didn't say anything at all. But that didn't stop her from writing on her damn notepad. I wanted to rip it out of her hands and see what she really thought of me. It would probably read something like… patient is displaying severe signs of CRAZY… like the bat shit kind. She should be admitted straight away to the New Jersey State Lunatic Asylum (a.k.a. Trenton Psychiatric Hospital for those who are politically correct.)

Ranger's voice interrupted my thoughts. As he drove, I listened to him place a call to Hector, asking him to pick up my prescriptions that Dr. Mereck had called into the pharmacy and to meet us at Joe's with lunch. I took that to mean that Hector would be taking over babysitting duty and that Ranger would be leaving me. When he hung up, I asked, "Are you going to meet the agents at Durant's apartment?"

He waited until we pulled into Mary Lou's driveway to respond. "The agents have called in a profiler to put together a psychological analysis of Durant. He's supposed to be there this afternoon. I'd like to hear what he has to say."

I wouldn't mind hearing that myself. I thought I had a better idea than anybody else about what made Durant tick, but it'd be nice to know if the conclusions I'd drawn about him were correct. I also didn't want Ranger to leave me, but I wasn't going to ask him to stay. I nodded and got out of the car. Mare had her front door open and was waiting for me as I made my way to her, with Ranger following close behind. She hugged me and led the way into her living room. Rex's habitat was sitting on the coffee table.

"Hey, buddy." I waved as I leaned over his habitat. "Remember me?"

As soon as he heard my voice, he wiggled out of his can and looked up at me, whiskers twitching. I reached in and pulled him out, bringing him close to my chest for comfort. Ranger had come up behind me and picked up the enclosure to take to the car. I'd never been more grateful for Rex's new larger accommodations. Had I not gotten it for him for Christmas he would have died.

I turned to Mare, tears running down my cheeks. "Thanks for taking care of him."

"He's welcome anytime." She gently squeezed my shoulders. "So are you. You know that, right?"

Too choked up to respond, I nodded and turned to walk back to the car. She called out, "Call me later, okay?"

I stopped at the car door and turned back to her, nodding my head again. It seemed like that was the only thing I was capable of doing. After I was seated, Ranger shut the door and came around to the driver's side. It was a short ride to Joe's, so I held Rex cuddled up on my breast. He was asleep in no time.

Hector POV

I'd stopped by the pharmacy to pick up Angelita's medication and then picked up her favorite meatball subs from Pino's. Now I was parked at the curb in front of the cop's house, waiting for the Boss to bring Angelita back. As soon as I saw them drive up, I got out and made my way to her side of the car, opening her door for her. I smiled when I saw the little rodent nestled against her chest. She had the kindest heart of anyone I knew. "Good Morning Angelita," I said as I held my hand out to help her out.

Without juggling the little guy awake, she eased herself out of the car and dug in her purse to get her front door key. I kissed her cheek before taking the key from her and walking with her to the porch. "I brought the items you asked for," I told her as I pushed the door open and placed the duffle bag on the couch.

"Thanks," she said as she followed me inside at a slower pace. The dog circled my legs, smelling the food in the bag. "Give me a minute and I'll put Bob in the downstairs bathroom while we eat.

"No, you sit down and rest," I told her. "I will take care of the dog."

"Where do you want this?" Ranger asked her, holding Rex's habitat.

"The kitchen is fine," she said. Ranger carried it through to the kitchen and left it on the counter.

After I closed the dog in the bathroom with water and food, I came back into the living room. Ranger was looking down at her as she stroked Rex's back. "Here is your prescriptions and I brought meatball subs." I put both bags on the coffee table and gently scooped the little guy up. "I'll put him back in his habitat so you can eat."

Even though I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, I could hear Ranger ask, "Will you be okay if I leave?"

"I'll be fine. Hector's here, but you know I don't need a babysitter."

Knowing how she felt about being 'babysat', I reentered the room and sank down on the couch, hoping to diffuse her temper. I looked up at Ranger who still had his coat on but hesitated to leave. "Did you hear that Boss? I have been demoted to babysitter." She smiled but fought the urge to laugh. "Did you tell her that I do not read bedtime stories?" I asked Ranger. She started to snicker and then elbowed me gently in my ribs. I let out an umph in protest. Her bony elbow hurt. "Is she what they call a problem child?" She laughed harder and then tossed the remote at me. Ranger and I both joined in the laughter, pleased that she had her sense of humor back.

Ranger shook his head at our shenanigans, but he was smiling when he gave her a pointed look. "Don't forget to take your medication." After that reminder, he kissed the top of her head and left.

She picked up the pharmacy bag and read the directions on both bottles. I unwrapped the subs while she swallowed the pills, pulling a face as they hit her tongue. While we ate, I pointed at the satellite box connected to the big screen TV. "He has Telemundo. We watch my show?"

She stared at me as if I'd lost my mind. "What show do you watch?"

"You will see." I began punching buttons, stopping when I landed on a commercial advertising the upcoming show, Triunfo del amor.

"What does that mean?" she asked as she burrowed closer to me.

"Triumph of Love." I patted her leg, smiling and nodding enthusiastically. "Do not worry, you will like it."

"What's it about?"

"Victoria and Juan Pablo had a baby. The la niña pequeña was taken from them. She grows up and falls in love with Max, but Max has another woman on the side." My mood turned dark as I realized the cheating asshole in the telenovela was similar to Morelli. I had to force a smile to continue. "It is a good show."

She frowned at my reaction but didn't inquire about what had upset me. "You watch this every day?"

"Every day." I nodded. "If I work, I record and watch later."

Her mouth hung open as she tried to reconcile the fact that she was sitting on the couch next to a tatted up, Spanish soap opera loving, ex-gang member. As we watched the show, she became more and more interested in the drama. The character that played Max was definite eye candy for both of us, but soon she was having a hard time holding her head up. I placed a throw pillow on my lap and motioned for her to lie down.

Ranger POV

The apartment building where Durant lived was nondescript. In fact, it was unsettling how much it reminded me of Stephanie's. I parked near the government issued SUV's and walked across the parking lot. A couple of younger agents were going door-to-door asking the other tenants about Durant and any suspicious activity. As I passed them on my way to the stairs, I caught part of their conversation. They were saying it was pointless to keep knocking on doors because no one knew anything about anyone in this building. Looks like Durant had picked the perfect place to set up his home base.

I continued up the stairs to the third floor where all the activity was centered. A creepy feeling crawled along my skin as I entered Durant's apartment. The cellar had been filled with suffering, but this place had housed pure evil. Agent Kinkade looked up from her conversation with Agent Shaw and nodded to me to indicate she'd be with me in a minute. While I waited for them to finish talking, I looked around the apartment. The living room carpet was worn. The only furnishings were a recliner facing the big screen TV with an end table beside it, and two wooden display cabinets. The larger cabinet was along the right-hand side of the wall and the smaller one was situated on the left.

Morelli came up beside me. "This place is spooky, isn't it?"

It wasn't necessary to respond. We could all feel the malignant darkness that hung heavy in the air. I stepped closer to the larger cabinet. It was lit up from the inside and had four shelves filled with eighteen-inch porcelain dolls. They were dressed in the same corresponding vintage outfits as the women in the cellar. I noticed that all the dolls resembled Stephanie, complete with curly brown hair and blue eyes. I quickly counted them. Five on the first three shelves and four on the bottom shelf. Nineteen dolls in total. Starting at the top left, the first doll wore a yellow dress matching the dress worn by Durant's first victim, Jenny Pucket.

"You see it too, don't you?" Morelli asked, but didn't wait for a response. "All these dolls look like Stephanie and they're wearing dresses similar to the one's the dead women were wearing."

My eyes settled on the ninth doll. It was the same doll that Stephanie had been holding in the picture when she'd been dressed in the red and black dress.

I could feel my anger bubbling.

I turned away to look at anything but those damn dolls. My eyes landed on the recliner sitting in the middle of the living room. I could envision him kicked back with a plate of food, watching TV after a tough day of torturing innocent women. And when he wasn't watching TV, he was sitting there staring at the dolls, daydreaming about what he was going to do to the next woman.

"Mr. Manoso," Agent Kinkade approached with a box in her hand. "Can you identify these items of clothing? We have reason to believe they are Stephanie's."

"I'm not certain about the jeans, but this is her coat and sweater," I said. "I've never seen Stephanie wearing these boots before, though."

"Could the boots be new?" Agent Kinkade asked.

"Possible. I usually put a tracker in her shoes, but only the one's she wears regularly."

Morell made a sound that had the agents casting covert glances to gauge whether things were going to come to blows. It was clear they'd already asked him the same questions, but he didn't like everyone knowing that I tracked his girlfriend. It was a territory thing that he was going to have to get over. My trackers had saved her life numerous times and I wasn't going to stop. In fact, I'd probably use more trackers than ever after this.

"We have eight other boxes just like this on the shelf in his closet. We think he kept all the items the women were wearing when he abducted them. There are also photo albums for each of his victims and something else you should see." Her lips thinned as if she disliked what she was about to reveal. She turned to head down the hall. Morelli lowered his head, looking at the carpet. I wasn't going to like whatever is was she had to show me. I followed her with Morelli on my heels.

As soon as I entered the bedroom, I stopped short. All four walls were covered in thousands of pictures of Stephanie. Some of them were of her by herself and some were of her with other people. Lula, Connie, and Vinnie were in a lot of them as well as Morelli and even me. My men hadn't even escaped having their pictures taken. I've been a part of several stalking investigations and this was one of the worst cases I'd ever seen.

I stepped closer, making my way around the room, taking in all the pictures. "He wasn't lying to her when he threatened her nieces and the rest of her family," Agent Kinkade said as she pointed to the pictures of Stephanie's parents, her sister, and her nieces. I wanted to stomp on his face and grind it into the ground when I saw the faces of those innocent girls while they played outside in their yard where they were supposed to be safe.

The only furniture in the room was a desk set up against the wall opposite the door. On it was a computer with a thirty-inch monitor. I stepped closer and saw several SD cards lying on the wooden surface as well as a high-tech infrared camera. The camera was capable of taking pictures and video in the dark which explained how he was able to stand over her and capture her image while she slept.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I wanted to hit something or kill someone. I had so much anger coursing through me, I thought I would explode. As if sensing my turmoil, Agent Kinkade backed away and gave me several moments. This had all happened under our noses and no one had noticed a damn thing. How? How could I have not seen it?

I needed to know what was on those cards. So far, I haven't seen any pictures of Stephanie naked or in a compromising position. "Have you come across any nude photos or videos," I managed to choke the words out.

"No, nothing so far," Agent Kinkade rushed to assure me.

I breathed a sigh of relief and left the room. I had to get out of there. I didn't stop walking until I was back at the Turbo, jerking the door open. I was glad I'd driven this car. I could hit the Atlantic City Expressway and open it wide. I needed to feel the rush of speed and let my mind go blank. Focus on nothing but the road.

In no time at all, I was nearing Trenton. My eyes were beginning to get heavy and it was hard to keep focused on the road. I hadn't gotten a good nights sleep in weeks. First, I'd been consumed with worry about finding Stephanie and now I was worried about the toll her experiences would have on her emotional and mental well-being. And today's excursion into Durant's apartment hadn't helped. I knew Stephanie would ask questions about what I'd seen and what the agents had found, but I didn't think it would be good for her to know too many details. I also didn't want to lie to her. I was going to have to walk a fine line, so I didn't cause her more upset.

Before I left this morning to take Stephanie to the psychiatrist, I asked Ella to prepare her favorite dinner and have it ready by six. I stopped by Rangeman to pick it up and was quickly on my way to Morelli's. I parked at the curb in front of his house and knocked on the door. Hector let me inside. Behind him, I could see Stephanie sitting up on the couch, stretching and rubbing her eyes. It was good that she'd managed to get some rest.

"I will bring breakfast tomorrow," Hector said as he put on his coat and kissed her forehead. "We watch show again."

"I never say no to free food."

Hector smiled. "No, you do not. Unlike most women, you are very easy to please."

Hector closed the door behind him while I placed the insulated bag of food on the coffee table. Stephanie looked so soft and fragile sitting there. All I wanted to do was protect her. I sat down beside her, snuggling her close to me. The channel was on Telemundo. Given Hector's predilection for telenovela's, I had a pretty good idea what they'd been watching, but I wanted to see if she'd fess up. "What were you watching?" I nodded toward the TV.

She pulled back, tilted her head and watched me carefully, getting ready to evaluate my answer. "Have you ever watched a telenovela?"

I couldn't help it. I flashed her my brightest smile. "Every Thursday night at nine, my Abuela Carlotta's house was full of women, eating, laughing, and watching their stories."

Her eyes lit up at my admission. It wasn't often I disclosed personal information to anyone, including her. "That wasn't what I asked." She elbowed me in the side. "I asked if you ever watch them?"

I tried to get my face to go blank, but I couldn't keep from smiling, not this time, and I didn't care that I was rapidly losing control around her.

"You did." She laughed and snuggled into me again, enjoying knowing something about me that most people didn't know. "It's okay. You're secret's safe with me." She glanced at the bag on the coffee table and like Pavlov's dog, her stomach growled. "What did you bring?"

"Ella thought you might be hungry."

"Ella's trying to fatten me up." She sat forward, opening the bag. There were two large plastic trays with lids on them. Hers was obviously the one with a big helping of macaroni and cheese made with artisan cheeses that she loved so much. My plate, which she gladly passed to me, had grilled chicken on a bed of wild rice and broccoli on the side. I'd reminded Ella not to serve asparagus this time.

"It's sad that your own housekeeper saves the good stuff for me." She twisted her lips and shook her head in mock pity for me. "You can see how much she loves me. She didn't waste any space on my plate with filler."

"Filler?"

"The green stuff. You know… filler?" she said as if all the sugar I'd consumed at breakfast had impaired me in some way.

I gave her an exasperated look and almost rolled my eyes. She caught me and began laughing. After that, we ate in comfortable silence, letting the noise from the TV continue in the background. When her bites started to slow down, she asked, "So, how's Rangeman? Tank must be glad you're back at the helm. I know how much he loves schmoozing clients."

Her sarcasm wasn't lost on me. Tank had been miserable for the last several weeks. He was worried about Stephanie and he was bearing the full weight of the company. I put my plate down, suddenly turning serious. "The business could have gone bankrupt. Getting you back was all that mattered."

I thought my honest confession would have made her happy, but instead she looked pained. "I wouldn't want you to lose your company because of me. Your work is important to you. You're the job, remember?"

A feeling of deep regret settled in. "Most times that's true," I admitted, "but not where you're concerned." I sat my plate on the coffee table and stroked her lower lip with my thumb. "While you were gone, I couldn't think of anything but finding you."

She visibly swallowed and pulled away. This was getting us into dangerous territory. I'd already gone through the painful conversation where I told her friendship was all I had to offer. I knew she valued our friendship and didn't want to lose it, but I also knew that she was in love with me and I had to be careful not to hurt her worse than Durant had.

As if she sensed where my thoughts had gone and didn't want to have the same difficult conversation again, she said, "You'd have been fine." After reassuring me, she changed the subject. "Are you going to tell me what the feds found at Durant's apartment?"

"Minimal furnishings," I said, carefully. "Typical bachelor pad."

She lifted her eyebrows for me to go on.

"In his living room he had a large display cabinet filled with dolls and a smaller cabinet filled with model cars just like he told you."

She opened her mouth to speak and then stopped as if maybe she didn't want to know the answer. But then she blurted her question. "How many dolls were in the case?" She didn't blink or look away while she waited.

I didn't want to draw out the suspense. I quickly told her, "Nineteen."

She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees as she stared at the floor, shaking her head. We both knew that Durant wasn't going to stop after he killed her. She finally lifted her head and met my eyes. "So, he would have taken at least ten more women before he stopped—if he stopped?" She knew I had more to tell, but when I didn't say anything she demanded. "Just tell me. Whatever it is, I can handle it."

"Agent Kinkade told me the profiler believes Durant would have found a way to keep justifying his actions and continue killing until someone stopped him permanently."

She sighed and looked back down at her hands—the same hands that had beaten a man to within a hair's breadth of death.

"He also had a bedroom with pictures of you and everyone in your life taped to the wall." My voice was even, but she could hear the underlying tone of anger as I waited for her to connect the dots. "They also found photo albums filled with pictures of the other women as he stalked them."

She swallowed and tried breathing slowly. I was afraid she was going to vomit. She was probably wondering if there were naked pictures of her from the cellar or her apartment. I was worried another panic attack was in the works. "What kind of pictures? Was I—?"

Touching her right now would be the wrong thing to do, so I kept my hands on my thighs and calmly said, "No. They were mostly surveillance photos. He had an entire room plastered with pictures of you going into Morelli's house, your parent's house—pictures of you and me outside the bond's office."

Sensing that I was angry with myself for letting him get so close to her and not protecting her, she reached out and took my hand in hers, squeezing gently. "You couldn't have known."

I met her eyes. "I'm supposed to make sure you're safe and I didn't."

Her face became serious. "Do you think I'm responsible for what he did to me?" she asked. I gave her a look that told her how ridiculous that question was. "Well, if I'm not responsible, then neither are you."

"He had pictures of you that were taken in your apartment." I quickly got to my feet, unable to sit still for a minute longer. "He stood over you while you slept." Unable to meet her eyes, I turned my back to her. "I went to Miami and left you at his mercy."

She stood up, embracing me from behind, and let her cheek rest on my back. "He was a twisted man," she said. "I won't let you blame yourself."

I put my hands over hers as they lay against my stomach, enjoying the contact of her body. We stood like that for a while and then I turned around, still holding her close. "Your clothes, boots, and jewelry were found in a box in his closet. The boots were new. I hadn't put trackers in them yet."

"I bought them that day. They were so comfortable; I wore them out of the store."

"Would you like to revisit the conversation where I asked if you'd be willing to have a tracker injected under your skin?"

"No." She smiled, sadly. "Because right now, I might say yes, even though it's not the way I want to live my life."

I hadn't liked her answer last time and I liked even less now, but I knew it was pointless to try and change her mind.

Realizing how close we were to each other, she stepped out of my arms putting some distance between us. "What did Durant's neighbors have to say about him?" Just as I was going to respond, she threw her hand up, stopping me. "No, wait, let me see if I can guess. He seemed so normal… right?" She rolled her eyes and sat back down on the couch. "And they were shocked to find out the kind of monster they were living next to?"

"You got it in one." I sat back down beside her.

"Are the feds going to arrest me?"

"I think they're grateful to you. Governor Allen, from Indiana, is pulling strings to have the case closed quickly."

"Ashley's uncle?"

"You talk about these women as if you knew them personally," I said. "It doesn't sound healthy."

She shrugged as if she didn't have an explanation.

My eyes locked with hers, examining her closely. It was time to lay some cards on the table. "I know you never had a problem with your memory, Babe. Why did you lie to me?"