Chapter 2

Thank you to someone here for the nickname, Curls, for Stephanie. I'm using it, hopefully with your blessing.

A/N: Note: If you are sending message as a Guest and not as a registered part of FF your messages aren't posted nor can I write back thank you for your kind words. Rest assured I read all!

Christmas Day, December 25th, Joe actually received a call out and never made it to the Plum house. He saw the burned out apartment and assumed Stephanie was with her family. He didn't bother calling her knowing he'd be invited for dinner and he couldn't face the inebriated Helen Plum. He didn't get home until after 8 pm, so scrambled eggs and made toast for dinner.

The morning of the 26th he went to the Plum house to collect Stephanie and take her to his house. Frankly he was surprised she hadn't called. "We thought she was with you! She left to change clothes before Mass," Grandma Mazur said, "Helen didn't like what she was wearing."

"Christmas Eve? How did she leave?" he asked.

Grandma Mazur rolled her dentures around her mouth, "I assume her car."

"No, I brought her over here. You mean she planned to walk to my house alone?"

"Maybe she went to her apartment," the old lady said.

When Joe went to the burned apartment, he found Dillon the apartment manager talking with the fire marshal. "Stephanie was part of the evacuation to the motel except the motel wouldn't allow pets and the new motel didn't have enough room." After that he didn't know where she went. Her car was still in the parking lot.

Joe tried Mary Lou, Lula and Connie. He then tried Rangeman.

"Ranger lives in Miami, but he is currently out of the country," Bobby told Morelli.

"Is Stephanie living here?" Joe asked.

"The reports on the 24th show she called at 23:45 asking for assistance from one of our patrols. She and her hamster were without shelter due to a water and boiler problem at her apartment. She also stated her car was dead. Patrol picked her up at King's Inn where Red Cross was trying to find rooms for all the evacuees, but they ran out. At 01:10 on the 25th she was picked up by patrol three and arrived here at 01:37. She remained in the Break Room on fifth floor refusing accommodations and left the next morning at 08:10 with Cal."

"I'd need to talk to him."

Cal entered the main lobby trying to control his temper. He wanted nothing more than to pound Morelli's two-timing ass into sand.

"Where did you take Stephanie the morning of the 25th? Joe asked.

"I drove her to your house where she saw Terry Gilman in your arms in the front yard. She wanted to return to her apartment but it was fully engaged in fire. She refused to return to Rangeman saying she was no longer an employee and instead fled on foot with only a blanket and her messenger bag. You might look for her in shelters, bus or train station, wherever the destitute, homeless people congregate. She has nothing now."

"Why aren't you out looking for her?"

Bobby jumped in, "Isn't that the responsibility of her fiancée or family? Do you want to hire us to do your job Detective Morelli?" Bobby asked with more than a hint of sarcasm. "Frankly I can't imagine she wants to be found. All she had after the fire was Rex and she left him to our care. Her life is in ruins; no home, no car, and a cheating fiancé. She gave up her job here to marry you."

"What job? Ranger's whore?"

Bobby stopped Cal from hitting Morelli. "She was our search and background coordinator, instrumental in locating many FTAs as well as providing excellent background on clients and new hires. Ranger's work takes him out of town for long periods. He thought you would be a better husband, but gave her the choice. She accepted your ring, so Ranger moved to Miami to continue his work."

"What being a thug?"

Bobby took several breaths before answering, "He represents several government agencies around the world."

"He's more likely a drug runner and enforcer like the rest of you Jersey penal system graduates."

Shaking his head Bobby answered slowly, "Morelli, I wonder why you still have a job since obviously you are an uneducated dolt. Ninety percent of Rangeman employees have no jail time of any type on their records. How many nights did you spend in the brig while in the Navy or here in Trenton when you were an FTA? Rangeman employees are mostly retired military, primarily Special Forces and MPs. What was your job in the Navy Morelli? Cooks assistant I've heard. So you can make shit on a shingle, congratulations."

Joe was turning red, but Bobby continued, "You think yourself the cock of the walk here but Carlos Manoso works with and is respected by business enterprises, military and intelligence agencies. He wanted his men, those he led in combat and those now leaving service, to have a job after serving their country. He and three others started Rangeman Securities. We have offices in Trenton, Miami, Boston, and Atlanta. What have you done Mr. Morelli? Rise to a semi competent detective in a moderate size police force and screw most of the women in Trenton for entertainment?"

The vein on Joe's face was turning purple. "What's your story, Sambo?"

Bobby almost smiled, he knew this whole exchange was being recorded and if need be, sent to the Chief of Police. Bobby reinforced his neutral face and remained at parade rest. Cal behind him wasn't quite as relaxed. "De-fective Morelli, how many times have you seen me in surgical scrubs at St. Francis or Helen Fund but failed to recognize me because as you say, all African men look like baboons? I'm a trauma specialist, more specifically a medical doctor thanks to the Army. I was also a Special Forces Ranger, not a cook's assistant. Finally, I am one of Rangeman's owners."

Joe had no retort. He stormed out of Rangeman. Cal shook his head, "Sad to think Stephanie thought him marriage material."

"No, her mother did…most likely still does."

00000

The room was light, but not bathed in sunlight. This wasn't her apartment nor was this a motel room with mundane art on the walls, block out curtains on the window and short pile carpeting on the floor. This wasn't a sterile institutional room, pale walls a single bed and chair. Instead the walls were a golden cream color, hardwood floor, raised wood and beam ceiling. The king size bed had heavy silken sheets like the ones on Ranger's bed. The thick duvet was a warm gold. Two wooden nightstands flanked the bed with simple lamps. A dresser matching the nightstands stood along the far wall. Framed impressionistic landscape paintings hung in the wall near the bed; they were not prints but looked like originals. The other wall was dominated by a window which framed a snowed covered forest scene beyond.

She looked under the covers and found she was still in her sweats, only her boots had been removed. She left the bed and began exploring and desperately looking for a bathroom. An adjacent dressing room and closet held clothes resembling those she had abandoned at Rangeman months ago.

Beyond was the bathroom; oversized shower, separate oversized tub, toilet and double sinks on a granite counter. On the counter were her toiletries from her handbag laid out on the counter.

She decided to shower. The soap was masculine and familiar. The shampoo and conditioner were not her brand but it was no time to be picky. A drawer contained a hair dryer and hair bands. After dressing she went to explore and discover where she was. There was no sign on the door indicating check out time or card slot for room entry. This was probably a private residence. Opening the door she had a choice, left or right. Right looked to go to other bedroom doors. She went left onto a balcony over-looking the large room below. The far wall was apparently windows but shades were drawn over all. Another wall was dominated by a stone fireplace with a metal and glass insert. Flames could be seen through the glass and the room was toasty. Several large leather couches and chairs created a seating area. Sitting on one of the oversized chairs was Tank, reading a book.

He looked up and acknowledged her presence. The stairs were to the right and she went down to the main floor.

"You hungry Baby Girl?" he asked as she entered the main room.

Stephanie looked around, confused, "Where am I?" The room was far larger than she thought from upstairs.

"Where isn't important," he said. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Sandwich and apple at Rangeman."

"And before that?"

"Ah, not much dinner. I'm not wild about shellfish."

"Was that Christmas Eve?"

"Yes."

"That was several days ago, you must be hungry," he said as he stood.

"No, I'm not. I don't think anything would stay down even if I was hungry." Looking around, "I'll ask again, where am I?"

Tank walked to the long wall and opened the shades. The ocean beyond was broody, grey, much like the sky. Snow had been removed from the deck but remained several inches deep on the railing. "Somewhere along the coast. I know how much you like the ocean," he said gently.

"Point Pleasant?" she asked hopefully.

"No, far from there and Trenton. This is an isolated area. I come here to think, decompress. It's my private retreat, nobody knows about it."

"This is your place?" she asked with wonder as she looked around the room. The entire 5th floor work area including Ranger's and Tank's office would fit in this room.

"It's mine but the paper trail is purposely convoluted. Even Ranger doesn't know about this," he said shyly.

"Why am I here?"

"What else do you have? Not your apartment, not your parents', not Joe's.

She was momentarily confused. "What's wrong with my apartment?" Then suddenly the vision of her building ablaze filled her head. She moved to the nearest couch and collapsed onto it. "It's gone." A second vision appeared, Christmas morning in front of Joe's house." She was crestfallen, "You know about Joe?"

"Cal told me and it's on the video from the SUV," he said softly. He gave her time then asked, "Why wouldn't you let Bobby take you back to Haywood?"

"I don't work there or belong there…or anywhere. Everything is gone, I have nothing, I am nothing…"

He came over and sat beside her on the couch taking her right hand into his massive left paw. "Don't go down there."

"I was at a crossroads in my life and I took the wrong road. Now I have nothing except my POS car that won't start." Looking down at her engagement ring, "And this which is worthless."

"You could probably get something for it," he said.

"No, not only is the engagement worthless, so is the ring."

"Worthless?"

"I took it to a jeweler to be resized and learned it was cubic zirconia on silver. I wish Joe had told me he couldn't afford a diamond. Maybe it was due to police pay….or something…"

She sat still for a while staring at the ocean before she started to speak again. "Christmas Eve we were at Angie Morelli's when he was called out. He said he wouldn't get back until late Christmas Day. Silly me, I assumed it was police business." Letting go of Tank's hand, she got up and began pacing, "His car was covered with snow like everyone else's. It had been parked in the driveway all night along with Terry Gilman's silver Mercedes. As Cal and I drove by, the two lovebirds were…." She stopped. "What is today, Tank?"

"It's the afternoon of the 26th."

"Missed Christmas Day at the Plum house; another demerit from my mother," she sighed. "Wonder if Joe realizes or even cares I'm gone?"

"I'm sure the apartment building burning down caught his attention. He probably assumes you are with your folks and they assume you are with him."

She nodded. "I imagine my phone is packed with voicemails…or not. Who at Rangeman knows I'm here?"

"Just me. The employees saw you at Rangeman late Christmas Eve dressed in sweats wrapped in a blanket. You left with Cal after sunrise. Cal later returned with Rex and the story you fled when you saw the apartment on fire. It's all on tape. Cal and Bobby brought you to me. Cal returned to Rangeman after first dropping Bobby off at his car. I brought you here."

"What about trackers?"

"You don't have any since you took Joe's ring. I'm clean as well. Our cell phones can't be traced. Bobby went to Hector who found a traffic cam of you exiting Cal's vehicle and running off between the buildings. There are a few videos of Cal driving a grid, but none of you. Hector also eliminated tracker records showing them bring you to my house and Cal returning Bobby to his car. I'm on vacation, Bobby is in command. "

She looked down at her pseudo diamond engagement ring and slipped it off. "The gods really don't want me married."

"Do you want to be married?"

"My mother kept cramming it down my throat….wife, mother, children, live in the Burg. I'm not sure I want marriage anymore. I haven't seen a marriage yet worth the trouble. I'll have to continue selling underwear to old ladies and look forward to a paltry social security check in 35 years. "

"You'd die of boredom."

"Would it be worse than being a Burg wife?"

She looked beyond the room; the dining area held a table with six seating but there was more than enough room to double the number if the table expanded. The dining area was separated from the kitchen by a counter with four stools. Beyond was a kitchen suited to large catered affairs with massive refrigerator, 8 burner stove and four ovens. The cabinets were cherry with glass inserts, the countertops and backsplash was natural stone.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"You need time to think about your life; past, present, and especially the future. You can't change the past, but you can see how it influenced your present life. If you want to move forward, you need change, grow, develop a plan and follow through. That's why you are here. This is your last chance before you become something you'll regret."

"What?"

"An empty shell, living without hope."

"I think I'm there now," she sighed.

"Not quite, but getting close. You can stop and reverse."

"You make it sound easy, Tank, snap my fingers," she said as she moved back to the window. The winter storm was still churning the ocean, the waves were angry.

"It isn't, in fact it's damn hard. There are professionals who can help if you need it, but first you need to want it. Most of the guys at Rangeman have had problems, depression, PTSD but they've come through it. Each one wanted to get better, wanted to move on, wanted to leave as much of the past behind as …we could. We've helped each other, now I'm in a position to help you."

"Why do you want to help me?"

"Contrary to what you believe, maybe influenced by Joe, we….Rangeman…like you. Sure you came as Ranger's woman, but you proved yourself more than a piece of fluff. At first we admired your resiliency, not many women could crawl through dumpsters or survive the myriad of destroyed cars, shower off and appear in an extremely sexy outfit several hours later. Your feminine intuition or spidey sense far surpasses our caveman thinking. You also were not intimidated by us big ugly men, you treated us like brothers, cared for us, looked after us when we were injured…..now I'm doing the same for you."

"But Ranger is gone, I drove him away."

"Ranger is my best friend, but he's an ass. In fairness though, he had his reasons."

"How long will I be here?"

"However long you need. Here you are away from the forces that kept pulling you in different directions. I'll stay if you want or I'll leave and give you space."

"What if I want to leave?" She said as she sat back down on the couch.

"It's a long cold walk to civilization, you don't have a car. This is your last chance for a helping hand from any of us at Rangeman. Rick gave explicit orders you were not to be helped. Screw him. He's got his head up his rear as high as do yours. If you truly want to leave, I'll take you to the nearest town and from there you'll have to find your way to a bus depot. Trenton is several hundred miles away. I'll buy you a one way bus ticket to anywhere but Trenton."

"I'm starting to feel like a prisoner," she said as she slid into the chair Tank had vacated.

Tank allowed his anger to be seen. Usually the giant remains neutral. He rose quickly belying his size, "Typical of your self-centeredness, Bomber. You want to run, you feel like a prisoner. You haven't yet said it isn't fair or it's not your fault. You have a crappy mother, at least you have one. Mine abandoned me when I was 14, just left with her latest boyfriend leaving me with no home, nothing. Your father never paid attention to you, hell, I don't even know my father's name and I don't think my mother knew his name.

You have a college degree. What have you done with it? Hector, never graduated from high school, he was in prison, yet he runs IT. Manny, was given the choice; military or jail. For many of us it took the military to shake some sense into us and give us a purpose. For others it was jail. Even Ric, with two years at Rutgers didn't have his act together either.

What is it going to take to shake sense and discipline into you? If you were half as committed at improving yourself and instead of blaming others…Ranger wouldn't commit to you, Joe and Dickie screwed around, the Berg gossips, your mother, Bella and so on, we wouldn't be here now. You determine your own life, but you allow others to lead you around like donkey with a carrot suspended in front of you, but for you it's a doughnut."

Stephanie sat stunned. Not only were those more words she had ever heard Tank utter, she was stunned at the message. It was as if his giant hand had slapped her across the face.

He walked closer, "You have an amazing brain when you use it, but it is turned off more than on. What you lack are confidence, discipline and training."

"You make it sound like I need the military."

"It might not be a bad idea," he chuckled, "But God help your instructors." He moved away from her towards the windows, "With military training you learn to believe in yourself and how to apply your skills in achieving an objective. You, Steph don't have objectives, you live moment to moment. You do not believe in yourself, probably because you have few skills other than luck. Finally when you do fail, you fall to pieces. I have never seen a 30 something year old woman cry so damn much."

"You think I'll get discipline here?"

"Hell, it's Christmas, miracles happen. You sure as heck didn't take advantage of Ranger's and Rangeman's help. We offered to train you so you could become a licensed apprehension agent. You were low level bonds at best and even then you had trouble. With our training you could have been good, even great, but you were… lazy. We offered you a job in Rangeman's business side so you could use your business degree. You showed us hints of your business sense, but you said it would be… boring." He walked to the fireplace and added a few more split logs. "You are here to think about how you are going to live the rest of your life. If you want to continue to be an underachiever and just wish about being better, then the door to leave is there. If you want to take control of your life, be the person we've glimpsed, then I'll work with you. I'm not wasting my time on someone who wallows in laziness and self-pity." He walked out of the room and down stairs to a lower level.

00000000

Stephanie retreated upstairs to the bedroom and flopped on her back on the bed. This was her favorite thinking position for as long as she could remember. She knew she was at the end of her rope, stuck in a pit, back against the wall….all those metaphors applied to her dire situation and she had no idea what to do.

She woke up to find someone sitting next to her. She blinked several times trying to identify the older man. "Hello, Curls," he said.

"Grandpa Mazur, what are you doing here?"

"I've come to take you on a road trip. I've got Big Blue outside, let's go places."

"You can't be here, you are dead."

"I've been waiting for Edna, but she still has spark left in her."

"Why are you here, wherever here is?" she said with frustration.

"To save you," he said with a smile. His smile always made his eyes sparkle and even though he was dead, the same sparkle was there. He was as much fun as Grandma Mazur, why couldn't she have been their child?

"Save me from what? Tank?"

"Yourself. You've always been headstrong, refusing to listen and learn from others, and are as lazy as a toad at the bottom of the well. Now it's led you to a dead end. That's a metaphor you forgot. Your giant friend and I are trying to stop the fall. You don't have a jacket so put on this robe, its cold out."

She did as she was told, donning the long navy velour robe with a hood. Big Blue, the 1953 baby blue and white Buick was already warm. They started down the road, completely snow packed, no tire prints. "Are we going far?" she asked.

"You are pretty isolated here Curls, it will take a while. Put your head back and rest." The old Buick had no head rests so she turned sideways and rested her head on the seat top and watched the snowy trees past the window, eventually falling asleep.

00000000

She woke in a cemetery. A very small casket stood on a bier beside the open grave. Her father and mother were holding each other and crying. Grandpa Mazur held a young girl with curls, Stephanie. Grandma Mazur held the hand of a girl about 3, Valerie.

"There was another baby?" Stephanie asked.

"Yes, Curls, they had a son, Anthony Franco Plum. He was a year younger than you. His death about destroyed your mother and their marriage."

"I've never seen the grave when we'd go visit the cemetery."

"It's in the children's section. Your mother and father visit it separately. It still is too painful for them to go together."

00000000

Her Grandfather took her hand and suddenly she was outside her family house's kitchen door. A young Stephanie was sitting on the stoop, her arm in a cast, listening to her parent's inside. "Why didn't God take Stephanie and leave our son? Look at her, injured again, her bicycle is ruined, she could have been killed because she didn't look where she was riding. We can't afford a new bike for her until Christmas."

Another voice answered, "She's a tomboy Helen." The voice sounded like her father.

"I don't want a tomboy, I don't want another daughter, I have beautiful Valerie. I want a son," Helen said angrily.

"The doctors said you can't have more children."

"She is costing us a fortune in hospital bills, ruined clothes and shoes. She's won't listen to anyone. She fights us on everything because she wants everything her own way. She's so…selfish. Her teachers say she's lazy and inattentive, always daydreaming. One teacher thought she might be mentally deficient."

"They gave her an IQ test didn't they?" her father asked.

"Yes and its way higher than average but she won't apply herself. Her grades are mediocre; she never finishes what she starts she just runs around like she's some comic book character with super powers. Actions and consequences mean nothing to her."

00000000

The scene disappeared and refocused on the Morelli back yard. The neighborhood children were playing and moving from one yard to another. She, her cousin Eddie Gazarra, Mary Lou and other neighbor children were blowing bubbles into the wind with the wire hoop and soap solution. "I need to pee," she said as she danced around.

"Go ask Mrs. Morelli if you can use her bathroom, otherwise you'll have to go behind the garage like a boy.

"I can't do that; I'll get my socks muddy!"

Mrs. Morelli begrudging gave her permission, "Be quick and use soap when you wash your hands. I just changed the towels; I don't want to see dirty hand prints."

When Stephanie finished she went back to the kitchen, "Thank you Mrs. Morelli." She had no sooner walked out the door when Mrs. Morelli screamed, "Stephanie Plum, get back in here!"

She went in and saw Mrs. Morelli pointing to the carpeting. "You didn't wipe your feet and now have tracked mud through the house. God gave you a brain, why don't you use it? If you were my daughter I'd take you over my knee."

When she ran back outside the play group had moved to Tony Scorrizo's yard. On her way to join them, Joe Morelli stepped out from behind the garage. "Wanna play Choo-Choo, Stephanie?"

"No, no, you don't need to see that again Curl's," her grandpa said. "Let's move on."

00000000

The scene changed to her bedroom. Nine year old Stephanie was arguing with her mother about wearing a dress to the Knights of Columbus Children's Christmas Party. "I told you to be home by four so you cold bathe before getting dressed. It's nearly 5 o'clock and look at you, covered in mud like a pig and bleeding. Now go wash at the sink with plenty of soap and water and a new washcloth. Return and put on this blue dress."

"I don't want to wear a dress," the young Stephanie said stamping her foot and waving her arms about.

Her mother grabbed her arm and held tight, "Don't argue with me missy, this is the only nice thing I have ironed for you. All the girls must wear dresses. You don't want others to think the Plums don't know how to raise their children properly."

"I'll get my tights all bloody," she sniffled.

"You'll wear the lace anklets socks with your shoes."

"I'm not a child, I will not wear little white socks," she said pulling away from her mother.

Helen Plum gritted her teeth, "Stephanie Michelle Plum you will wear what I tell you or there will be no Christmas presents and no desserts for you for a month."

00000000

A Christmas tree was on the auditorium stage decorated with paper chains made by the kindergarten class. The first grade had made starts from straws and glitter. Her class would be the chorus for the Christmas play. Stephanie watched herself march with her class single file from the back of the room to the risers in front of the stage. Stephanie was tall for an eleven year old and should have been on the far side of the risers, but ended up in the front row away from the piano. She felt awkward but knew it was for a reason; she had a solo part in an upcoming song. When her time came, she sang with all her heart much to the delight of the choir director Mrs. Horner and the audience. They applauded, applauded just for her! Her heart swelled with joy and she looked into the audience wanting to share the joy with her mother, but she only saw Grandmother Mazur. Neither her mother nor father was present. It was her mother's day to have her hair done.

"You had a lovely voice, Curls', why did you stop singing?"

00000000

Her grandfather took her hand once again. This time they were standing outside Tasty Pastry. Inside the 16 year old Stephanie Plum was preparing to close the bakery. Joe Morelli walked past the two of them, unseeing and went into the shop, turning the open sign around to "closed."

"Grandpa, I don't want to see this."

"Curls, you need to remember it correctly, you've been romanticizing it."

Stephanie always remembered she was flattered by Joe's indecent proposal since he was the hot Joe Morelli. Many girls had given their virginity to Joe and she felt a bit left out. When Joe came through the door she was curious but unsure. What she saw through her adult eyes this time was pure and simple rape. The kissing she remembered was his mouth over hers keeping her screams from being heard. She tried to kick him but instead gave him access between her legs. He kneeled on her legs as he unwrapped his condom then tore her underwear. The rest was fast and vicious. When he finished he laughed, "You were the last on my list. Now I'm King of Trenton. Don't think you were anything special, it was just like banging a cupcake."

The scene changed. She was back in the Plum kitchen. Her mother had seen her disarray and was grilling her about it. When she admitted Joe had "kinda" forced himself on her, Helen went ballistic, "You whore, you slut!" The intensity of her mother's castigation was intense. "So help me if you are pregnant, you will marry him! I will not allow our name to be sullied by the likes of you."

"He's going into the Navy tomorrow."

"Provisions can be made. In the mean time you are grounded for the entire summer until we know if you are pregnant. You will not spread your legs for any other boy or man until you are properly married."

Valerie came home and told her mother about the graffiti on the stadium walls about Joe's conquest, once again it was Stephanie's fault, not Joe Morelli.