I hate to borrow.

Free At Last

Time passes slowly when one has no idea what is going on. Once again, she was taken to the interrogation room., Monica was not alone. There were a few more people in the room. A man with a briefcase sat at the table. He had some papers spread out. There were Harold and William, her first arresting officers. They stood quietly in a corner of the room.

The gentleman at the table introduced himself as Maurice Richard and asked her to sit down. He carefully explained that she was being released shortly but they had to ask her some final questions. Stephanie nodded. "I assume you have been thinking of your future. Have you come to a decision what you want to do?"

Stephanie hesitated before answering. "I don't think I can go back to Trenton, sir. Everyone important to me saw me taken away in handcuffs. They probably will hear that my family will be going to prison for a very long time. I don't think I can continually answer their questions, and have to watch as they decide if I am a traitor to my country, and got off lucky."

She stopped talking, then spoke again. "I know I have no money in my account. I figure I only have the clothes I came here with. I have no apartment left, and certainly no car that I want to keep. I am leaning to starting over in another place. I don't think I could ever work at my place of employment either. The brave men who work there fought for their country and they have all lost good friends to traitors. I don't want them to ever have to question my loyalty."

Mr. Richard nodded. He understood her reasoning completely. He was actually very impressed with her arguments. He dealt with people who had tried to go back. It had usually ended quite badly for the very reasons she had spoken.

Looking at her, he spoke. "I actually concur with all your reasons. I would have suggested them to you but I note that you have thought this through very carefully.

I am therefore making a suggestion. Since we have turned your life upside down, we are willing to place you in the Witness Protection Program. You will be given a new identity, a new look, and a new life. We will take suggestions on where you would like to be placed. You will be given money to start out and some help with finding employment , housing and transportation. I will give you the papers and let you take some time to decide. Could you make a decision by tomorrow?"

Stephanie nodded. She did have one question. "Will I be able to write my friends a letter?" He nodded. She was so perceptive, it would be a pleasure working with her.

Armed with a folder full of papers, Stephanie was led back to her room. On the table was a food request form. This was the first time she had ever had one and it looked like she could order anything she wanted. Swiftly she filled it out for the three days listed. Breakfast was a Boston Creme donut, pancakes, and a bagel with cream cheese, and coffee with cream and three sugars. Lunch was a pizza sub, a meatball sub and a pepperoni and cheese pizza. Supper requested was lasagna, Chinese and linguine alfredo. Hopefully she could eat them. Her stomach had shrunk so much, she feared she would only be able to eat small amounts for awhile.

Spread over the cot lay the papers. On it she read what Maurice had said. She had a form to fill out with her three choices where to live. Stephanie thought about that. It had to be near water. This was her chance and she didn't want to screw it up. She put down Miami, Myrtle Beach, and Boston.

The next question had to do with employment. What did she want to do? She knew that she was done with bounty hunting. Too much garbage and scrapes had turned her off that profession forever. She thought about her work at Rangeman. She had really enjoyed working with Tank and helping him with the personnel division. She thought that with her business degree she would like to pursue that, so she put that done.

Her second choice was a counsellor for women recently released from prison. She figured she would be able to help when she knew exactly what they had been going through.

Her third choice was to work back in the lingerie trade. She had really enjoyed being a buyer. She loved to meet people. She loved that women would purchase the products to surprise their man, or men would buy the products to surprise their woman. She grew sad at that fact. She was totally off men. The men in her life had hurt her deeply. Her heart was still healing.

The next morning after her donut and coffee, she was escorted back to the little room. In her hand was the envelope with the forms neatly filled out. Mr. Richard was there and rapidly reviewed her requests. He thought that everything would be finalized in a day or so. She left the room and returned to her cell full of confidence for the first time in a long, long time.

Two days later, the cell door opened for the last time. Stephanie was wearing the clothes she had arrived in. She noted how loose they were. Well, she wouldn't have to worry about doing up her blue jean button for some time.

She was escorted off the floor. Her bracelets were removed and she was handed a shoulder bag. Inside was a wallet with a new driver's license, money, Social Security card, charge cards, insurance card, and an employee card. It appeared she would be working with women at the Elizabeth Fry Society in Boston.

She checked her driver's license. It had a motorcycle rating on it and a home address. Her new name was Sandra (Sandy) Appleton. She practiced her new name. It rolled off her tongue. She could live with that. There was an airline ticket with a confirmed booking leaving that afternoon from New York to Boston. Standing by the door was a suitcase and a carry-on bag. She would check on the contents when she got to her new home.

Stephanie handed three sealed letters to Maurice. He promised to have them hand delivered to Rangeman , Mary Lou and Valerie. She had thought long and hard what she would put in the notes.

Finally she wrote them out for the final time and sealed them.

Tomorrow is the last chapter of this story. I am not saying what Stephanie put in the letters to her sister nor Mary Lou. They are rather personal in nature. I am publishing Ranger's letter.