Morelli felt a petty sense of satisfaction when he managed to pull out of the parking lot ahead of the Rangeman SUV. Leading the way to Joyce Barnhardt's house, he turned left at the light, just like Big Blue had done. Crap. He should have realized what was about to happen. Then again, the tight-lipped clerk hadn't given him anything else to go on. He stayed well over the speed limit without being reckless; the SUV right on his tail.

This neighborhood, with its giant McMansions on half an acre or more of land, was a far cry from the semi-detached house in the Burg that Little Joyce had grown up in. Joyce Barnhardt went through husbands like other women went through outfits. She was one of the few people who seemed to come out ahead after every divorce, too. Mostly, Morelli had heard, because no matter who she'd gotten her claws into, she'd rob the poor schmuck blind while they were together or sweet talk him into handing over his assets in an irrevocable legally-binding manner. Every time she moved on, her bank account, her house, and her boobs got bigger.

As he came down Barnhardt's street, he saw the patrol cruiser pulling up across from her house, its lightbar flashing red and blue all over the neighborhood but no siren. The two-man team was just now getting out of the vehicle. They had come down the opposite end of the street and were facing him. Joyce's house was on his right. And smack dab in front of her house, illuminated by his headlights and the flashing red and blue of the cop car, was Big Blue. The trunk and both passenger doors were wide open.

Morelli pulled up to the curb behind the Buick, leaving his headlights on as he got out. The cops, Meyer and Bergen, sauntered over, clearly in no hurry to investigate the possible prowler reported by the homeowner. All three of them watched as Hector Aguila parked the black SUV nose to nose with the squad car, before he and Santos joined them.

Meyer looked Morelli up and down, then looked at the two Rangemen. "I'm taking a wild guess here, but I bet Stephanie Plum is involved in this somehow."

Bergen rolled his eyes. "Not much of a guess since Picky and Richardson both radioed in about a certain detective swooping in to intervene for his lady love."

"Ex-lady love as she tells it," corrected Meyer.

"Maybe he's hoping she'll be grateful enough to change her mind about leaving," suggested Bergen then. "Real grateful." He drew out the words with a lecherous grin, clearly insinuating dirty deeds would be done. "Like oo-la-la! grateful."

Meyer frowned and punched Bergen in the shoulder.

Morelli's temper flared. Christ he was tired of this. Tired of the digs, the sneers, the constant innuendo. He'd had his fill when he and Stephanie were together. He didn't listen to it then and he wasn't going to listen to it now.

"That's enough." Using his hard cop voice, Morelli gave them the high impact version of the hairy eyeball, the one he'd learned from Grandma Bella. "If you don't respect me, then respect her and shut the fuck up or I will shut your mouth for you. Both of you if I have to. Capisce?"

Santos and Aguila added their scowls and the two cops shifted nervously.

Meyer put his hands up and said, "You know I'm not one of those guys. I don't talk about her like that. She was always nice to me in school, even when other kids would bully me."

Morelli didn't say anything, though he knew that was true. Bergen on the other hand…

Bergen's eyes shifted in a repeating loop from Morelli to Santos to Aguila as he stammered out a half-assed apology.

Morelli made a mental note to keep an eye on him from now on, and he had no doubt that Bergen's name had just been added to some list at Rangeman, if it wasn't there already.

While that was going on, two other Rangeman SUVs had pulled up farther down the block, coming at them from the same direction as the patrol car. They weren't as lucky with the parking, and were two houses down. Once parked, each disgorged two men. Between the street lamps and the headlights on his vehicle, he had a good look at them as they walked up. Each pair had a driver in Rangeman black and a passenger in civilian clothes. He had no doubt that every Rangeman on scene was fully armed.

If anyone ever asked, Morelli would always say that the Rangemen were all the same – thugs – and that he couldn't tell the guys apart. But you don't make detective if you can't identify perps. And Morelli was a damn good detective.

Morelli would bet that the guys in street clothes – Santos, Ram Ramsey, and Vince Scarpetti – were the ones with Steph at Bud's Tavern. She must have run into Grandma and Gluck and left without them knowing, otherwise they wouldn't have lost track of her. And, whatever else the Rangemen might do, he'd never seen one drive under the influence, so they must have called for reinforcements– Hector Aguila, Slick Rosen, and Cal Holmes – to drive them as they looked for Stephanie. Whatever happened at the Tavern must have involved Joyce Barnhardt in some way, or they wouldn't be in front of her house now.

"It's that address," Meyer pointed to the house his squad car was in front of, "that called in the complaint about a prowler. But I recognized that car," he pointed to Big Blue, "and I know whose house this is. How about me and this asshole," he tilted his head toward Bergen, "do our investigating on the complainant's side of the street and let you fine citizens enjoy the evening air over on that side?"

Meyer split his gaze between Morelli and Santos, but it was Santos that he fist-bumped. Huh. Somehow it had never occurred to Morelli that the Rangemen would have contacts other than himself among the Trenton Police. Given the friendliness and ease surrounding that small gesture, Morelli could see there was a mutual respect. That hadn't occurred to him either. In fact, now that he recognized it, it was obvious that Meyer was on good terms with several of the guys there.

Huh. Wonder how many other of his brothers in arms were fraternizing with the enemy? Shit. What if they weren't really the enemy? Steph had told him time and again that he was blinded by jealousy. That he was seeing Rangeman and everyone connected to it through green-tinted lenses. He was going to take a page from Steph's Denial Playbook and put off thinking about that.

Meyer leaned into the cruiser long enough to turn off the lightbar. It was much easier to see without the blue and red strobe effect. He and Bergen pulled flashlights from their belts and began a show of looking through the yards over on their side of the street. Morelli grabbed a flashlight from his truck. Apparently some of the Range-guys already had theirs with them.

"All right, guys." Santos addressed his buddies. "Barnhardt's car isn't here now but that doesn't mean she isn't coming home. Let's round up our little lost lambs and vamoose before that happens. Ram, Slick. Check Big Blue. The rest of you, with me. Spread out and we'll check this big-ass front yard first. There's a lot of landscaping so be sure to check in and around it for anyone passed out."

The men spread out in a line across the yard, moving slowly forward. Morelli made note of the thorough and methodical nature of their search and gave it his grudging approval. Since they had that well in hand, he felt comfortable going off at a tangent and headed straight up the middle of the yard.

Soon after arriving, he'd heard a noise in the background. It was faint enough that he only heard it when no one was talking. It wasn't a steady noise, either. It was an intermittent buzzing like a small engine with a blocked carburetor. Years ago, he had a gas-powered weed eater that made a similar noise so that's what his brain had tagged it as. But nobody would be out at – he checked his watch – 2:45 a.m. doing yard work.

The closer he got to the house, the louder the noise became. There was movement off to the left so he shined his light on it.

was on her hands and knees next to an island of landscaped bushes encircled by paving stones. Until his light hit her, she had been running the palm of one hand back and forth over the grass. Now, she sat back on her heels, that hand held up in front of her face to block the intense flashlight. Immediately, he moved the light down so that the brightest spot was on the ground between them.

As he walked up to her, he spoke. "Mrs. Gluck, it's Joseph Morelli. Are you okay?"

In deference to the late hour and sleeping neighbors, he kept his voice down. Mrs. Gluck did not.

"I SEEM TO HAVE LOST MY HEARING AID," she explained. "MAY I BORROW YOUR FLASHLIGHT? I'M AFRAID MINE IS RATHER INADEQUATE."

With that she held up a set of keys. It had one of those tiny lights that turned on when you pressed a certain spot and turned off the second you let go. It was good only for finding a keyhole if you were already within six inches of it. Perfect for starting the car in the dark, or getting into your house if you forgot to turn the porch light on. Looking for a tiny hearing aid on a big lawn in the middle of night? Not so much.

Morelli knew the others had to have heard her, but they didn't break discipline, continuing their search pattern instead. Granted, the searchers would be here in a couple of minutes but Santos sent Ram and Slick up to him now.

By way of greeting, Slick asked, "Who's doing yard work at this time of night?"

Ram jerked his chin to indicate the mass of bushes. "Sounds like it's coming from there."

Morelli nodded. "I have a feeling I know what that is. First let's see if we can find Mrs. Gluck's hearing aid."

With the three of them looking, the device was found in short order. As Mrs. Gluck put it in place and adjusted it, Morelli shined his light into the bushes.

There, in the center of the twelve feet by twenty feet patch of bushes, was Edna Mazur. She lay on her back, clutching a carton of eggs to her chest, snoring away. Her hair stuck up in places from catching on the branches that filled the area. What he could see of her knees, elbows, and her clothing was covered with ground-in dirt.

"Why …" began Ram.

Before he got any farther, Mrs. Gluck answered. "Edna was setting up an ambush. See?" She pointed as she spoke. "The driveway is just to the left and the walkway from there to the house is right on the other side of these bushes."

There was movement behind him as the searchers caught up to them, then Ram suggested, "If we wake her up, maybe she can come out the way she went in?"

"Oh no," said Mrs. Gluck. "I'm afraid Edna had two and a half glasses of wine. I'm amazed she stayed awake this long! Once she's out, she's out. Why, you could throw her like a football and she'd slumber away. There's nothing you can do but wait."

"Well," said Santos as he peered into the underbrush, "now we know where Steph gets it. Speaking of …," he turned to Mrs. Gluck. "Do you know where she is, ma'am?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, boys. I think she went back to the car for the toilet paper and more eggs. She might have said something but I'd lost my hearing aid by then."

"Backboard."

The word startled Morelli, partly because it was said so close to him, but mostly because it came out of Hector Aguila. Morelli had almost forgotten that Aguila was capable of speech because the man had made an art of non-verbal communication around Morelli. Mostly it was by way of a threatening aura so heavy that it almost had a physical presence. It never failed to make the hair on the back of his neck stand up, either.

"Rope." Aguila continued, his words accented but discernible. "Slide under. Strap down. Pull out."

Santos clapped Aguila on the shoulder. "Ram, Slick. You heard the man. Put it into action."

Morelli watched as the two men hurried to the closest SUV, presumably for a backboard, rope, and straps.

Santos continued, "The rest of us will continue the search pattern up to the house. If there's no joy, split in half for the side yards then regroup in the back."

As before, Morelli went off on his own. Joyce's driveway was to the left of her house. Her neighbor on that side had their driveway on the right. The two driveways ran in parallel from the street to the side yard with no fence between them. Maybe Stephanie got confused by the two identical driveways when she went back for supplies? Which way should he go first? Toward the street or toward the house?

A small noise, like something hard scraping on concrete followed by a rustling, caught his ear. It seemed to be coming from over by the neighbor's driveway. Two giant wheeled trash bins with attached lids were lurking at the sidewalk end of the drive, which was an odd place for them. Most people would put them up near the house so they didn't have to go far to dump the trash. And if it had been trash night, the bins would have been all the way to the curb.

Aiming his light that way, he heard more rustling and thought he saw movement in the space between the two bins. The flash of purple gave him all the clues he needed. Stepping around the bins, he found his target crouched down behind them.

"Stephanie?" Morelli put his free hand out toward her. "Come on out."

Startled, Stephanie frantically waved her hands at him, shushing him. "Oh my God!" she hissed at him, trying to yell in a whisper. "Be quiet or it will hear you!"

Morelli wondered if she'd been spooked by a raccoon or an opossum and kicked the trash can to see if anything popped out. Nothing did. "What will hear me?"

The activity was getting noticed. Santos and a couple of the other Rangemen drifted over. Behind them, he saw Bergen and Meyer had crossed the street and were coming his way as well. Guess they'd given up all pretense of looking for the phantom prowler and wanted a peek at the Stephanie Shit Show. Must. See. TV.

"The bear!" Agitated, she reached up and tugged on his shirt, trying to pull him down behind the bins with her. "The bear, dammit! Can't you hear it growling?"

Morelli took the hand that was tugging at his shirt and used it to pull her up to stand next to him.

While it wasn't unheard of for the occasional black bear to amble through Mercer County, the police would have been notified of the threat and Morelli hadn't seen any such thing in a couple of years. He could tell that the alcohol was finally starting to get metabolized out of her system, though she wasn't anywhere near sober. But she shouldn't be hallucinating either. Humoring her, he listened. All he could hear was that small engine noise made by that small old lady and that's when it clicked.

Trying to ignore the audience, Morelli told her, "That's Grandma Mazur."

Steph burst into tears. "Oh, my god! The bear ate Grandma!"

Santos, suppressing laughter, tried to help. "Steph, honey, it's okay."

Through hiccupping sobs, she wailed, "No it's not! Morelli's bear ate Grandma Mazur!"

Startled, Morelli exclaimed, "What the hell? How is it my bear?"

The good news was that Steph stopped crying. The bad news was that she was getting mad. With narrowed eyes and one fist on her hip she said, "You tell me, you're the one who brought it."

"Oh for fuck's sake. There is no bear! That sound is Grandma Mazur snoring. She's asleep, like you should be." Morelli's hand automatically went to his pocket but he'd stopped carrying antacids after the break-up.

Crossing her arms, Steph gave him That Look. The one that usually meant a big loud fight with lots of arm waving and Italian gestures on both sides. "Don't you tell me what to do, Joseph Morelli. And stop following me around. Needy is not a good look for you. I mean, you've got like a ton of side chicks, so go harass one of them. As hard as it is to believe, there must be one of them that wants you."

Morelli heard snickering from several places. He expected it from the Rangemen but the two cops? They would pay for that.

"And you might have the third finest ass in all of Trenton, but that is not enough to base a relay. A relapse. A related ship." Holding up both hands, she intertwined her fingers. "A being-together like together-people on. Besides, nobody is hotter than Ranger. Mmm, a building full of tens and he has to crank it up to eleven." She made a half-moaning 'yummy' noise then sighed happily, a little smile on her face. "Twelve on a really good night."

"Stop!" Morelli blurted out. "I don't want to hear that."

Bergen muttered, "I could stand to hear a little more," and every other man turned to glare at him. Meyer smacked him in the back of the head – hard.

Morelli bet Bergen had just moved to the top of that Rangeman list. Good. And what was that about him having the third finest ass? He used to be number one, dammit. He found himself subconsciously clenching and unclenching his ass cheeks and had to force himself to stop. Bet he lost out to Batman and his cousin the Legend. Fuck.

Steph yawned and muttered, "Sleepy. Night night."

She started to head down to the ground but Santos stopped her. "Oh, no you don't, Beautiful."

Morelli watched like a hawk as Lester picked up Steph. Santos had a reputation as one of the biggest horndogs in all of Mercer County, though Morelli had never heard of him taking advantage of a woman who wasn't sober. Morelli was prepared to pull her away from him if his hands wandered anywhere they shouldn't.

Morelli observed every detail: the way Santos was touching Stephanie: the look he gave her as he smiled at her, passed out in his arms. A kiss to her forehead was followed by Santos laying his cheek against the top of her head and rocking her gently in his arms for a minute. The other guys gathered around Santos. Morelli saw the concern, the relief, and the care in the eyes of every Rangeman.

The emotion Santos gave off was an oddly intense blend of ferocity and affection, but there was absolutely nothing sexual about it. It put Morelli in mind of the way that he and Anthony still treated their baby sister, Cathy. Brotherly love.

He wondered why he hadn't seen it before. Maybe his jealousy had clouded his judgment. If he was wrong about that, how much else did he get wrong? Maybe it was time to put down the Stephanie Plum Handbook of Denial and do some self-examination. Later, though. Right now there was still a mess to clean up.

Slick joined the group. "Grandma Mazur is in the back seat of the Buick and Mrs. Gluck is in the front. Ram is keeping an eye on them."

After a brief discussion, it was decided that Morelli would drive Big Blue and the ladies back to Mrs. Gluck's house. Meyer would drive Morelli's truck and Bergen would follow in the cruiser. The incident would be written up as assistance to senior citizens with vehicle trouble.

Santos and his crew, of course, were taking Stephanie back to Haywood.

As he opened the driver's side door to Big Blue, Morelli heard Santos call his name and looked over.

"When you get to Mrs. Gluck's house, make sure the lights on the squad car are on and that Grandma's awake. Getting brought home by the cops is on her bucket list."

"Of course it is." Morelli rolled his eyes at that, but he did appreciate the heads up.

He watched as Santos passed Stephanie to Cal then got into the back seat of Aguila's vehicle. Cal passed Stephanie back to Santos then closed the door. Two minutes later, the Rangemen were gone.

EPILOGUE

Stephanie woke up to a pounding in her head. Bleary-eyed she looked around. Where the hell was she? There was carpet underneath her but also something lumpy and hard. Blinking to clear her eyes, she saw boxes off to one side. She sat up but ran into something soft and clinging. Startled, she yelped and tried to knock it away and had to scramble to one side to get it off.

Shit. Had she been kidnapped again? She tried to take inventory but the pain in her head and the roiling of her stomach made it almost impossible. Must be a concussion. Kidnappers must have bonked her on the head. At least she wasn't restrained. Not even handcuffs.

She put her hands on her thighs and was surprised to feel fleece, not jeans. And her shoes were gone. Checking her clothes, she saw fleece lounge pants decorated with polar bears in whimsical scarves. Her top was an oversized t-shirt that had a picture of a cheese board with 'Honk If You Love Cheeses'.

"I don't know how I got here," she said out loud, "or why I'm in polar bear pajama pants."

"I can help you with that."

Taken by surprise, Steph yelped again, then groaned in regret as the noise and movement made her head worse. Her stomach flip-flopped and she had to squinch her eyes shut against the light stabbing into her brain. The whiff of something familiar drifted up her nose. Cracking one eyelid open, she saw Lester crouched in front of her. There was a look of amused sympathy on his face and he was holding The Cure.

Shifting to a cross-legged position, she held one hand out. "Fries, please."

Lester mirrored her position then handed them over. For the next few minutes the only sounds were Stephanie chewing fries and sipping soda as Lester helped administer the best ever cure for hangovers. He put his own spin on it with two headache tablets and she took those as well. Her stomach settled down quickly and her brain came back online.

"So, Beautiful, did you have fun last night?"

"Um. Maybe?" Steph looked around again now that her head was clearer. "Why am I in your closet?"

Lester laughed. "You were going to take the couch but then you started talking about shoes. You felt sorry for my shoes because I only have nine pairs and three of those are some kind of boot. You wanted to sleep with them so they'd know someone cared."

Embarrassed by Drunk Stephanie's antics, she blushed and covered her face. "What else did I do last night?"

"According to the bouncer, Joyce Barnhardt came dashing out looking ticked off, then you, Grandma and her friend came out to the parking lot, Joyce deliberately hit Big Blue with her car, and you three jumped in Big Blue and went after her. Does that ring any bells?"

Steph pulled her hand down to her lap. Images flashed through her mind, mostly people but also places. "Something about Officer Picky? And a really pale, skinny guy at a convenience store? Maybe?"

Lester took one of her hands in his. "I knew you'd had a bit too much when you went off to the ladies room, but you shouldn't have been this drunk. What happened?"

It took her a minute but remembered the fiasco with Mrs. Gluck's flavored tea that turned out to be a Long Island Iced Tea. She told Lester all about that and the encounter with Joyce at the table.

"I swear, I was just going to walk Grandma and her friend to the car. I was going to come right back in and have you guys take me home. Most of it's … um, it's all kind of foggy. Why do I remember Joe being there? He wasn't at the bar, was he?"

Lester shook his head. "Nope. Not at the bar. What else do you remember about last night?

Steph repeated what she remembered in the hopes that something new would shake loose. "A handful of us went out last night. I ran into Grandma Mazur and her friend at the bar and Joyce Barnyard. OH!" Eyes wide, she sat up straight and clutched Lesters' hand. "Joe was stalking me last night! Every time I turned around he was there!"

Lester drew breath to reply but another bit of fuzzy memory popped into her head and she interrupted.

"Holy crap! Where did Morelli get a bear?!"

ENDNOTES:

Fic sparked by a convo with KathyJoK and her polar bear pajama pants AND a text meme posted on Facebook at Janet Evanovich Fan Fiction group.

Friend: I'm so confused, I don't know what to do.

Me: *Standing in underwear dunking Oreos in Whiskey* Well, you came to the right place.

Hope you enjoyed it!