Chapter 3

The blue and silver wrapped box mocked Stephanie each time she passed the credenza.. Right about now her niece, Michelle Morelli, would have been heading for the church to get ready to walk down the aisle. Unless there had been some horrible mistake, the wedding was not going to take place. Though Stephanie had not heard from Joe since he'd gotten the early morning phone call that Mitchie had been found murdered, everyone knew everyone else in the Burg so a false identification was unlikely. Stephanie continued to pace the length of her office. She hadn't planned to come in to work today but what else was there to do? She couldn't just sit at home. The phone rang and she raced to it hoping that it was Joe calling to say that the early morning police call had all been a sick joke and that she needed to get ready for the wedding.

"Hello?" she asked breathlessly.

"Stephanie? It's your mother." she bit back a retort that her mother might not have appreciated. The older woman sounded tired.

"I recognize your voice," Stephanie replied, "I guess you heard."

"Isn't it terrible!" Ellen Plum exclaimed, "Louisa Gimelli called to let me know that the wedding is off. Can you believe it? Mary-Elizabeth Brown said that you'd called for cars to take everyone home? Now why would Michelle want to walk by herself?"

"I'm sure I don't know, Mom, maybe she wanted to have some quiet time to think," Stephanie suggested. Despite hours of pondering that very question, she had not been able to come up with a better answer.

"You're probably right," her mother agreed, shocking the heck out of Stephanie, "Marriage is a big step." There was a pause, "Are you planning to take a dish around to Jerry? I could make something for you..."

"I honestly haven't thought that far ahead," Stephanie made a mental note to run by the Italian deli after leaving the office. Joe would want to be with his family tonight. Just as she thought of him, the man himself walked in to her office. Stephanie watched her husband round the desk. She almost missed her mother's comment. She caught it just in time.

"I don't plan on poisoning anyone. I don't plan to cook anything. I can stop at the Italian deli. Mom, please do not make a dish for me," she blew out an exasperated sigh. Joe walked straight for her and wrapped his arms around her waist, "I have to go. Joe just walked in."

"You be sure to take something around. I won't have anyone thinking..." Stephanie stopped her mother's diatribe.

"I'll stop by the Italian deli when I leave here, Mom," she assured the older woman before returning the handset to the cradle. Stephanie wrapped her arms around her husband and they held each other silently for several minutes.

"You okay, Joe?" Stephanie asked tentatively. Joe stepped back.

"I've been better," he said.

"It was her?" Stephanie knew by the way Joe bowed his head as she asked the question that there was no doubt of the identity of the corpse. She pulled her husband closer.

"How horrible. Why? Why Mitchie? What had she ever done?" Stephanie asked, emotions warring and bubbling inside of her.

"She hadn't done anything, Cupcake. Life doesn't work on a point system. As much as we might wish it did sometimes," Joe said softly.

"She was so young, Joe. Who would do this to her?"

"I don't know, Cupcake, but I'm going to find out," Joe promised.

Khari "Tank" Kaplan was surprised when Joe Morelli called him asking for help on a case. The two had met nearly a year earlier when they'd teamed up to investigate the brutal murder of Khari's boss, Ranger Manoso. They'd been friendly but Khari hadn't really heard from the police detective again...until today. The surprise that he'd experienced when Joe had called paled in comparison to the shock he'd felt when Dr. Aziza Houdra walked into his office. Aziza worked in the local coroners office as a forensic pathologist. She'd been the pathologist who had worked on Ranger's corpse and they'd met when Khari had been forced to go to her office to identify the body. He couldn't think of a single thing to say. He simply stared at her. She hadn't changed. Her wispy dark hair framed her perfect face. She was dressed in an icy blue business suit that made her caramel toned skin glow. They'd had one ill-fated date months before where they'd discovered a critical difference in their gun control beliefs. Still, he'd never been able to shake the feeling that what might have been would have been great.

"Khari," Aziza said softly, breaking the spell. He jumped to his feet.

"S-sit down," he offered, "Can I get you anything. This is sure a surprise." She slipped gracefully into a chair. Khari admired that. At 6'6" he didn't do a damn thing that didn't make him look like an ox let loose in a doll house.

"No, thanks. I'm okay," Aziza demurred, "I just wanted to bring you the reports and pictures from the serial killings."

"Reports? Pictures?" Khari cringed as he parroted her words.

"Yes, Joe called you?" Aziza asked. She waited for Khari to nod, "I just wanted to bring them by personally to make sure that you're okay. You know they're of..." she paused.

"Dead bodies," Khari finished for her, his stomach rolling.

"Yea," she said, smiling slightly.

"I'll be fine. I can pretend that they're pictures of actors. They're not real," Khari couldn't seem to stop himself from rambling as Aziza set the pictures in front of him. He glanced at them, "They're..." he began before reaching for the trash can and emptying the contents of his stomach. Aziza went to his side and smoothed a cool hand over bowed head and neck.

"I know your phobia and I know how extreme it is, maybe..." Khari stopped her before she could finish the thought. He knew what she was going to say but if he was honestly going to help out he was going to have to brave the evidence. Didn't stop the cold sweat from pouring off his brow but it did help to calm him a little. These weren't real dead bodies in the pictures. They were actors they...he glanced at the pictures again and snapped his eyes shut. He was big, he was tough, he had been managing Rangeman since the boss' death, he could handle this. He looked again. The shaky feeling had calmed he could do this.

"I'm okay now," he informed Aziza. She smiled at him and brushed her lips over his brow.

"I know you can do this," she whispered, "If you need anything at all give me a call and I'll do what I can to help."

"Appreciated," Khari said, forcing a smile. Aziza paused and then left the room.

He stared after her replaying the meeting in his mind and cringing at most of what he'd said. If only things had worked out for them. He turned back to the pictures. No crying over broken hopes when there was work to be done.

Joe pulled into the Rangeman parking lot. Shock had begun to fade and sorrow was taking it's place. He remembered going to the hospital when Michelle was born. He was 17 years old and thrilled at becoming an uncle. One look at the little brown haired, brown eyed, squalling, bundle and his heart had turned to mush. She'd grown into a beautiful woman and would now never be married or have her own children. She wouldn't grow old with someone that she loved and who loved her in return. Joe sent a heartfelt prayer of thanks heavenward for having had the time that he did to feel the extreme highs that life could bring. Despite the extreme lows, like today. Life was worth living and he intended to live every moment as though it was his last.

Aziza had promised to drop the pictures and reports by Khari's office. Joe fervently hoped that the other man had spotted whatever he was missing. The faster this bastard was behind bars, the better.

Stephanie was grateful that her day had finally come to an end. Joe had gone saying he'd scheduled an appointment with Khari. She was tempted to call him on his cell phone to ask how the meeting had gone but remembered that he'd planned to stop at his mother's house and to be with his family after the appointment. Just after he'd gone a woman had called begging Stephanie to help her get her son out of jail. Most bail bond offices were closed at this time on a Saturday but Stephanie hadn't been able to resist the woman's fervent pleas. Her fifteen year old son had been jailed under suspicion of drug trafficking and would have had to spend the entire weekend in holding. Stephanie glanced at her watch. Just time to stop at the Italian deli and hurry to join Joe.

Stephanie slung her purse over her shoulder and went out the back entrance turning to lock the door. She always parked her car in the alley behind the business in order to save on street parking for potential clients. She was nearly halfway to the Jeep Cherokee when a the feeling that someone was watching her slid up her spine. Don't look around, she instructed herself, just keep moving. She stood taller and walked faster forcing herself to be calm. She was imagining the feeling. It was just that Mitchie had been murdered and suddenly dark alleys didn't seem the safest place to be hanging out..

There was a sudden noise. Something metal hitting...something metal. There was no time to completely register the noise, Stephanie broke into a run hitting the unlock button on her key ring. She opened the door and jumped up into the SUV. She fell on the key ring accidentally hitting the door lock. Thank God her luck was holding out. Her would be assailant let out an angry roar and, again, metal hit metal as his machete came down on the the top of her car shattering the driver side window and spraying her with glass. Stephanie got a good look at her assailant as the machete was raised again. Not that it did her much good as he was covered from head to toe and wearing black gloves and a ski mask. Her nervous fingers tried to fit the key into the ignition slot and missed it completely. The keys fell to the floorboard and she scooped them up. Stephanie threw herself back in the seat as the machete came through the window.

Stephanie pulled the seat lever hurtling herself backwards and the machete, which would have cut her head off, sliced through her upper arm. As hard as she tried, Stephanie could not hold back a scream of pain. The attackers arm was still in the window as he tried to maneuver the machete in order to extract it from the car. Stephanie jammed her car keys into the attacker's forearm. It was his turn to howl in pain. She'd been pretty sure before but now she knew beyond a doubt that her attacker was male from the depth of his howls. There was blood on the car key but Stephanie couldn't be sure that it wasn't her own. She needed to do some serious damage if she was going to get rid of this asshole. She reached under the seat for her gun.

It was there and unloaded as usual. Stephanie pulled it out quickly and saw the man's blue eyes widen as he spotted the gleaming metal of the handgun. Stephanie threw the gun at his head instead of shooting and he wasn't completely able to dodge the heavy metal object. She just had time when he staggered backward to jam the keys into the ignition. As she spun her tires, the back of the car fishtailed into the man. He fell to the ground and Stephanie raced out of the alley. Both of her shaking hands held the wheel. I'll light a candle everyday, Stephanie promised, if only he doesn't follow me.