A profound thank-you goes out to my tireless beta jago-ji who sticks with me through thick and thin, or more acurately through comma splices and run on sentences. In spite of her best intentions I most likely have managed to slip some errors through into the final edit. I take full credit for these.

The Ambiguity of Secrets

Prologue

Catching your husband in flagrante delicto with your arch enemy does things to a person. Or at least it did things to me. They were on the very table I'd painstakingly polished with Pledge earlier in the day. In fact, that polished surface was doing most of the work for the lazy-assed Dickie Orr, who was standing almost still at the table's edge.

I didn't make my presence known right away. I watched with horror as Joyce Barnhart's body slid back and forth, back and forth, with her FMP-shod feet kicking out wildly and scratching the previously mentioned polished finish of the table. Dickie, with his pants puddled at his feet and his shirttail hiding what was undeniably a saggy butt, appeared to be almost unconnected to Joyce. Her loud cries and his guttural grunts convinced me otherwise. They looked like some strange X-rated whirligig.

It was the first time I'd ever seen people doing it, well other than a glimpse of myself and Joe Morelli in the chrome trim of the éclair case at the Tasty Pastry, but that had been in a different time. So, in a state of horrified curiosity I watched Dickie and Joyce. I watched until Joyce had a seizure or a climax, I'm not sure which, but before Dickie could finish, I lost it. I completely lost it.

Adrenaline aided me and I knocked Dickie sideways, pulled Joyce from the table and dragged her through the dining room, living room and out the front door. Later, I realized I had black-rooted brassy red strands wrapped around my fingers, so I may have pulled her by her hair. When I went back in the house to get Dickie, he'd made his escape, and I collapsed on the sofa, my anger morphing into rage at the injustice of it all. People in the Burg talked for months and months about the three-ring circus that my divorce became. At the time, that suited me fine because it enabled me to plot my real revenge on Dickie without anyone suspecting.

Chapter 1

It was a beautiful spring day the likes of which Trenton rarely saw. The air was approaching breathable, the sky was a cloudless azure and, if I listened closely enough, I could probably hear a songbird singing over the tire-squealing, engine-revving sounds of Trenton mid-day traffic.

I was happy. My shirt was untouched by garbage and my jeans had no grass stains, and while I'd broken a healthy sweat I'd caught my man. I was holding a body receipt worth four thousand dollars, and Buddy Riggins was probably still trying to catch his breath after the mile-long chase through the nasty alleys of Trenton he'd led me on.

I hadn't told too many people about my new running addiction. Lula and Connie knew, but they thought it was an aberration. Something I'd give up once a new man came into my life. Lula was convinced I was running to release the sexual energy that was going unexpended. And to be truthful, that's how it started. After Joe and I had our final curtain call I found myself at loose ends. Okay, sure I had the shower massager, but I needed more. I needed something that would wear me out to the point I wouldn't miss a man in my bed.

The breakup had been my idea, so it had come as a surprise to me when I found I didn't like sleeping alone night after night. I needed something to exhaust me, and I knew running would do the trick. I barely made it a mile at first, then one mile morphed into two, and now I was training for a half-marathon.

Running had improved my work life as well as my personal life. Today's capture was a good example. I'd caught Buddy without exerting too much effort and now I was going to have a nice payday. I wouldn't have any trouble figuring out how to spend it. I pulled the bonds office door open and went in to get my check.

Connie was sitting at her desk and Lula was huddled over her shoulder. They were entranced by something on her computer screen.

"Hey," Connie said as she spared a quick glance in my direction.

"Hey, back at you," I said. "What's so fascinating?"

"We're reading a good article in the digital version of the Trentonian," Lula said. "About one of your ex's old law partners. You might know him."

"I might," I said. "Which partner? Dickie's had a few of them." I walked closer to look at the screen.

"Rafael Acosta," Lula said.

The body receipt fluttered from my fingers and landed on Connie's desk.

"Hey, you got Buddy!" she exclaimed. "Good deal. I'll cut you a check. This will make Vinnie happy." She pulled out the checkbook and started writing.

"I…I do my best," I stuttered. Then striving for casual, I asked, "What's the deal with Rafael Acosta?"

"He left town under mysterious circumstances a few years ago, but he's back in town and setting up a new law practice," Lula said. "Maybe Dickie will be his partner again. You know this dude? I'm thinking I'd like to meet him. He's almost as handsome as Ranger."

I stepped next to Lula and bent forward to look at the image on Connie's screen. Connie, trapped beneath the two of us, pushed back her chair and knocked both Lula and me to the side.

"I don't know him," I said. "Never met him, but I imagine Dickie knows him. He was the assistant DA back when Dickie was just an inferior grunt in the same office."

"The DA's office?" Lula questioned. "It says here he's reopening his practice. That don't sound like he was a DA."

"It's been a while and I don't think of Dickie if I can help it," I said. "I think Acosta left the DA's office and started his own practice right about the time Dickie and I split up."

"That's right," Connie said. "He hadn't been in practice too long when his paralegal was murdered. There were rumors that Acosta had his hands in it, but there was never any proof. And then he up and left town. Just disappeared off the face of the earth it seemed. Now he's back in town and back in business. I think there's a story here we don't know."

"Huh," Lula said. "That don't seem right. You always know the story."

"Well, I might have heard a few things," Connie said. "There were some rumblings that Acosta might be moving into my family's territory. My family doesn't take kindly to that, but Acosta up and left before anything happened. And when his para was killed and he left town, everything kind of calmed down with the family."

"What exactly is your family's territory?" Lula asked.

"Making money the old-fashioned way," Connie said with a grin. "Stealing it. And like I said there was never any proof, but Mr. Acosta went from assistant DA to a successful single practice as an investment and tax attorney and he did it quick. Too quick for my family's liking. That's all I know. Rumors really. Nothing solid."

Connie finished writing the check and tore it from the ledger. "You sure you didn't know Acosta?" she asked me, "I thought Dickie and him were friendly."

"I'm sure," I said. "If you'll remember, Dickie was friendly with quite a few people I didn't know about, but I don't think Acosta was one of them. I think what you're talking about must have happened right about the time of my divorce. I don't remember the details, but I know it was the talk of the Burg for a while. I was still selling lingerie back then and most of my free time was spent plotting revenge against Dickie and Joyce." And that was the complete truth, I thought to myself.

"Take your check," Connie said. "I've got another couple of files for you now that you got Buddy."

I took the check from her and replied, "They'll have to wait. I'm taking the rest of the day off. I've earned it."

"I guess you have," she agreed.

I stepped out of the bonds office and made my way around the corner to the alley. I leaned against the wall and tried to catch my breath. I was sweating way more than when I'd caught Buddy earlier, and I felt faint, like I'd just run the half-marathon I'd been training for.

Rafael Acosta. Yeah, he was almost as handsome as Ranger, and yeah, I knew him. I really knew him, but that was my secret, and it was a secret I'd never share. My stomach roiled and I took a few deep breaths to try and calm myself down. There was no need to be afraid, and yet I was.

Rafael Acosta had never known Stephanie Plum. He'd known me only as Stephanie Orr, and for some perverse reason he had delighted in calling me Mrs. Orr. That thought helped calm me much more than my attempts at deep breathing. I pushed off the side of the building and shrugged my shoulders to release the tension that had tightened them at the first mention of Rafael. Stephanie Orr was a person of the past. I'd made my small claim to fame burning down a funeral home and exploding cars as Stephanie Plum. No one would connect the two names any longer. I was sure of it.

My recent commitment to my job had resulted in my name being less and less publicized. I'd been driving the same car for well over a year. I had finally turned into an efficient and mostly decent bounty hunter, and the chances of me running into Rafael would be slim to none. We wouldn't move in the same circles. My rationalizing had made me feel better. It was time to go home and enjoy the day, so I made my way to my car and headed out.

Once I was in my apartment the rest of the day spread before me with an unappealing emptiness. I really had nothing planned so maybe I should have taken the files Connie offered. Sitting alone in my apartment just emphasized that I was—alone, and as hard as I tried, I couldn't keep my thoughts from sliding to the 'way back' corner of my mind where I had stuffed all memories of Rafael Acosta.

That back corner of my mind was like the back corner of my closet where I had an over-stuffed dusty duffel bag buried under a pile of retired shoes. I had a vague idea of what was in the bag, but it never seemed worth the effort to dig through the other crap to retrieve it and inspect it. Today was the day, not for the duffel bag but for the back corner of my mind. It was time to bring Rafael front and center and deal with what was probably an unreasonable fear.

Or I could head back to the office and get busy with my next apprehension. Always one to make the sensible decision, I stood and grabbed my purse and keys and headed for the door, but I stopped mid-step a second later when my phone rang.

Ranger. He didn't call much anymore. For a second, I was tempted to let it go to voice mail, but I didn't have the self-control.

"Hi, what's up?" I answered.

"Does something have to be up?" he returned.

"I think it does. You're not the kind of guy that calls to chat."

"You've got me there. I've got something to discuss with you. Can you do dinner this evening?"

I hesitated. I could do dinner. I wanted to do dinner, but I didn't want to seem so available. It seemed weak somehow.

"It's important," he said.

I sighed. "Okay. When and where?"

"I'll pick you up. Seven, okay?"

"Yeah. Is this a formal affair?"

"It's pizza," and he disconnected. Same old Ranger. Not one to waste words. I wasn't sure whether to be happy or upset. Pizza meant there would be no quiet intimate dinner for two in his apartment. While the thought was entertaining the reality of the situation was not. Ranger had been avoiding me for months, and I knew why.