Chapter Eight

I tried not to rush at the police station, or when Ramon brought me home and stood in the hall waiting for me to wash up and put on fresh clothes, but no matter how I dragged my feet, two o'clock just kept coming. Hal had gone back to the bonds office with Lula to get my truck so that it would be waiting for me at Rangeman.

I had the bizarre feeling while I rode the elevator with Ramon up to the fifth floor that I was being brought to the principal's office. Not unfamiliar territory for me. But this time there was an air of certain doom. Dead woman walking.

I didn't know what to expect when I got to Ranger's office. He hadn't given anything away last night. He'd been completely shut down. Fort Knox. Usually I can at least sense a mood. A curl of smoke from his scalp when he's angry. A small light in his eyes when he's amused. This had been like staring into the abyss.

I hesitated at his office door. Looked at my watch. Two o'clock exactly. Ramon was good. I shoved down the sick feeling and opened the door.

Ranger was standing behind his desk, hands on hip, staring at me with that unknowable expression. His heart-stopping good looks had always been dangerous. Now they were accentuated by the brooding stare and the half-healed scar under his left eye. Evidence of the fight with Morelli. His strong, muscular body was usually relaxed when we were together. This time he was tense. Like he might have to thrash someone at any moment. "Shut the door behind you."

Gulp.

I stepped into the office trying desperately to hide my blind panic. The door clicked closed. Our eyes held. I'm not entirely sure I was breathing.

And then a voice sliced through the tension, making me jump. "Who the hell is this?"

For just a second, I was sure I'd had a stroke. I cut my eyes to the chairs that were pushed back against the wall and saw two men sitting there staring at me with just as much surprise as I felt. One was tall and serious, with an expensive haircut and a nice suit. Not top of the line, but nice. The other was wearing gray cargo pants and a plain navy polo shirt. He had a gun belt strapped to his hip that said law enforcement. I had no doubt the suit was packing too. I thought I caught a bulge under his arm from a shoulder holster.

Their surprise wore off pretty quickly. The suit frowned, but Ranger ignored him. "Steph, this it Jack Carson. He's FBI. And Grant Prichard here is DEA. Gentlemen, this is Miss Plum."

"I know who she is," Carson said in a not so flattering way. Great. I wonder what he was thinking of, the serial incidents involving exploding cars or the time I was blamed for burning down the funeral home. Which was only partly my fault. Then again, if he's FBI, there was a chance he saw the video of my altercation with the crazed mercenary assassin in their parking garage a couple weeks ago. Or he could have been in the offices when I came back upstairs afterwards covered in blood and carrying a dripping knife that was about twelve inches long.

I won that fight.

There was some shifting. I was obviously interrupting a meeting in progress. Something none of them were happy about. Especially Carson. "Time's pressing here. Maybe your personal business could wait."

"Miss Plum isn't here on personal business." Ranger's eyes sliced through Carson for only a second before they were back on me, like the man never spoke. "I contacted the hospital this morning after I talked to Tank. Avery Jessup died, and it wasn't because of the fall."

"Is that what the call was about?"

"No. He called to let me know that Juan Alvarez escaped from federal custody again last night."

Both FBI and DEA went dead still, staring from me to Ranger and back again. Carson looked like he was trying to keep down the porcupine he'd swallowed. "Your involvement in this case was supposed to stay off book, Manoso, so it doesn't fuck with my investigation, and you read in your girlfriend?"

This time Ranger's full attention went to Carson. "You asked for me with the understanding that I would have the full support of Rangeman behind me. That includes Stephanie."

"She's a bounty hunter."

"She's a gifted investigator with good intuition and no off switch."

Wow. I'd never heard it put quite like that. It sounded like praise the way Ranger said it.

Carson wasn't impressed. "And what expertise is the Bombshell Bounty Hunter going to offer us?"

Ranger was stone as he stared Carson down. Carson suddenly looked very nervous. That proved he wasn't completely without a sense of self preservation. If Ranger had looked at me like that, I would need to change my pants.

"Steph," he said without releasing Carson from his death stare. "Why don't you share what you know about Avery Jessup."

I wasn't sure where he was going with this, but considering the way he had just gone to bat for me I didn't want to let him down. "Twenty-three-year-old African-American male, lived on the third block of Stark Street with his girlfriend, Lorena Crawly. He was arrested last week for aggravated assault after he bit a homeless man in the throat under the overpass where he'd been staying since the girlfriend kicked him out. Went FTA two days ago. When I went to pick him up, he was acting weird and bit my partner Lula before Hal and I could apprehend him. He had his hands cuffed behind his back and flexi-cuffs on his ankles, but he managed to break out of both and escape. I called it in to Joe Morelli. He works crimes against persons now, but he used to be vice. He said Jessup was most likely on PCP."

"Do you know where he got it?" Prichard asked. He'd been so quiet I forgot he was there. He didn't have the ferocity about him that Carson had. He was kind of soft. His brown hair fluffy, hanging over the edge of his wire framed glasses.

"I don't. But he had a long history of marijuana use. That's it. Nothing stronger. And the arrest report only listed two joints in his possession."

Prichard was interested now. "That would mean they're still in evidence. We could have them tested to confirm your contact's theory. It's not uncommon for marijuana to be laced with other drugs. Dealers do it without telling their customers sometimes so they can increase demand. There are a lot of street names for it. Dust, chronic—"

That sparked something and I got excited enough to interrupt. "Mooner said he'd heard there was some bad chronic out there. He said the stuff coming up from Mexico had some bad juju on it."

All three of them were staring at me. "Who's Mooner?" Prichard wanted to know.

"One of her confidential informants," Ranger answered for me. He turned back to Carson and Prichard. "I don't need to justify my methods to you. But as you can see, even without being fully briefed she's still capable of finding leads that you haven't in six weeks with full agency support. Now, do you still want to whine about it? Or can we put on our big boy pants and move on?"

Prichard leaned back in his seat. "I'm good."

Carson was still watching Ranger. "She's your asset. Your responsibility."

"I never assumed otherwise."

Finally Carson shrugged. "How you get the information is your business. Just make sure this stays confidential. I still have to build a case on solid ground, with evidence that will hold up in court. If your girlfriend blunders through and poisons my trees, I won't be happy."

Ranger only stared at him, but the understanding was implied. The men stood on a subtle signal of dismissal and left the office. As soon as the door swung shut, I was very aware that we were alone.

"What did I just audition for?"

Ranger's dark eyes scanned me carefully. "There are three different law enforcement agencies involved in this. DEA, FBI, and local PD. All three are fighting over the same piece of pie."

"Alvarez."

Ranger nodded. "Each agency is focused on a different aspect of the case, and none of them are particularly good at sharing. They're busy staking out claims, and meanwhile someone is pumping a whole lot of dangerous drugs into the area."

"Why did they come to you, if they're so worried about poisoned trees?"

"Because I have access to people who won't talk to law enforcement. The information is more valuable to them than making low level arrests. Right now, they're all but blind. DEA wasn't even sure of the delivery method or possible source until you pointed it out."

"How did you know I would?"

"I didn't."

I turned to gape at him. "You went out on a limb for me and you didn't even know if I had anything?"

He looked like he might be thinking about smiling. "Let's just say you have a track record. And an uncanny ability to surprise me."

I bit my lip. Yeah, that's me. Full of surprises.

"Are you going to be comfortable helping me with this?" he asked.

I nodded, not really thinking. "I'm just a little thrown. I thought this was about the other thing."

I didn't realize I'd said it out loud until I saw his face close a little. Ranger was the master of the blank expression. "One problem at a time."

Something slid into place in my mind. "Omigod. That's why you doubled down instead of pulling them back. It wasn't because of Jessup or Skeezer. It was because of the test."

"Babe, you're five days late. There could be a lot of reasons that test was negative. Could be there are other factors involved, but it can also take weeks for HGC levels to get high enough to register. I think it would be unwise to make assumptions of any kind based on conflicting evidence. Until we have more definitive information, you're Schrödinger's box."

Both pregnant and not pregnant at the same time. Great. Now I have that in my head. "You know I'm not pregnant, right?"

His face was still guarded, but he did soften just a little. "I've got a clusterfuck to sort out and a fugitive to find. Until we know more, I'm going on business as usual. Just with a little more caution. I suggest you do the same."

"Does this mean I'm stuck with Hal and Ramon?"

This time the smile showed. "If I pull them back, can I trust you not to get in any drag out fights with dangerous men that might throw you down the stairs?"

"I'm not that much of a train wreck."

"Babe."

Okay, so I was. "I could do my best."

"You're going to have to do better than that."

"Like what? Are you going to make me stop skip tracing?"

"No. I doubt it would do any good to ask that, even if I thought it was necessary. But maybe you could let Lula do the tackling for a couple days. And actually call me if you have any heavy lifting to do."

"You mean like moving furniture?" I asked with an innocent smile.

"I mean like Skeezer Marquez. Or anyone else who's likely to try and do damage. Who do you have that's outstanding?"

"A domestic violence, a possession with intent, and a couple assaults."

"Who are the assaults?"

I pulled out the files. "Terry Kroychek was arrested for swinging a baseball bat at her ex. And Ronald Walker started a fight in a bar. Put a guy in the hospital."

"Would you be willing to take Hal with you when you pick up Walker?"

"I'll think about it. You're not worried about the wife beater?"

"Should I be? You've taken down a lot of wife beaters. With prejudice. They usually make the mistake of underestimating you. Though, if he's over 200lbs, you might want to call in for assistance after you stun gun him. What have you done on the possession?"

"Not much."

"Keep me in the loop on that one if it looks like it might relate to Alvarez. In the mean time, I have Tank preparing files for you to get you up to speed. Any breaks you see or information you find needs to come directly to me, even if you're not sure it's relevant. There are too many players in this game, and I don't want to take any chances." He looked up from the files and our eyes held, his face still unreadable. "I want you close on this one. Alvarez is dangerous. He killed an FBI agent when he escaped custody last night, and I haven't heard any whispers of him fleeing the area. Right now, he's a snake in tall grass."

"Why do you want me on it if he's so dangerous?"

"Because I meant what I said about the off-switch. Knowing you, you'll end up involved anyway. At least this way I can keep an eye on you."