Sunday was fast approaching. My mother had called and invited me over for dinner. I had an obligation to her. It was more like a moral clause. Especially since she called and left a message. I would be a terrible daughter if I didn't show up. There was an incentive to dinner on Sunday. That incentive was Bernie. It was possible that he would come over with my Grandmother. She loved showing off her boyfriends. He might not even have a choice. Grandma is pretty pushy when she wants to be. I needed Bernie, and I missed the dinners on Sunday with my family. It would be nice to have some normalcy in my life.

I knocked again on Betty Trujillo's door. She was FTA. I was up early. I jogged past her house when I got myself motivated enough to exercise. I knew the house, it was the only one on the street that not only had a picket fence, but a gnome on the porch. I had never seen anyone come in or out. I figured the person who lived here must go out-of-town a lot. Connie had handed me Betty's file when I was at the office and I hadn't even looked at it. It would be an easy pick up, and I needed a distraction. I was having trouble sleeping. Trying to find out who killed Jeanne was corrupting my sleep patterns. Finally four a.m. showed its ugly face on Ranger's clock and I went for a run. Betty's light was on when I passed by. I got back to RangeMan, jumped in the Jeep and came back. The light was still on, and I heard movement inside the house. Maybe she was a night owl. It was possible she slept during the day. I heard shuffling towards the door and I knew someone was looking out the peep-hole at me. I waived hello to whoever it was.

"Hello, anyone home?" I used my friendly voice. It was close to five in the morning now, and it was getting lighter outside. Less threatening.

"What do you want?" A brittle voice called though the door.

"I need to speak to Betty Trujillo."

The door opened no more than a crack. No security chain, I noticed. I guess I didn't look scary in my Nike tee and sweats.

"I'm Betty. What is this about?"

"Stephanie Plum." I said, holding out my hand to shake hers. Her hand came out the door and she shook mine hesitantly. This is also a way to get people to open the door wider, giving you more access to them when you tell them what you need to do. "I represent the bond company "Plum Bail Bonds". You missed your court date. I need to bring you to the station to reschedule."

"My court date?"

"Yes."

I stood there waiting. She had a blank look on her face.

"My court date is next Tuesday."

She turned from the door and I looked down at the paperwork. If this is another of Connie's screw ups... I looked at the date of the court appearance. No, Connie was right. It said right here in black and white, "failure to appear". I looked up and into the barrel of a shotgun. I could smell gunpowder. It had recently been fired. Not good. Not good at all. I went cross-eyed trying to focus on the tip. I backed away.

"I aint goin' to jail. I aint payin' no tickets neither. This is America. I can park where I want. I can drive as fast as I want, and no court, police officer, or little girl is going to tell me otherwise. Understand?" She looked at me through the sight of the gun, her finger shaky on the trigger. It was loaded and ready. I was sure of it. I took a slow and careful step backwards, almost tripping on the gnome. I looked down for a moment. The gnome was smiling. I looked back up at Betty. My hands were up, as if it would stop a bullet.

"Ok." I said. My heart was beating fast. Adrenaline was pumping, giving me the extra power needed to dodge if I needed to, or what my body believed it could dodge. She lowered the gun, taking a step back into her house and slowly she shut the door. The moment I heard the door lock click, I turned and ran towards the Jeep. Once inside I sat there shaking, trying to breathe. I flipped through her arrest record. She only had speeding and parking tickets. Nothing was here about shooting or killing anyone. Holy crap! I wasn't expecting that. She looked so nice. I would need another approach, and a flak jacket, maybe some backup.

I glanced again at the house. Small cottage, sweet looking grandmotherly lady. White picket fence, flowers and a garden. She even had the tan Ford Taurus with the "Sam's Club" sticker in the window. Nothing here suggested "Insane". Well, maybe she wasn't insane. Maybe she just really didn't want to pay her tickets. I hated to pay tickets, too. When I entered my golden years, I wondered if I would go as far as pulling a shot-gun. I might. It didn't change the fact that I needed to pick her up and bring her in, but not before breakfast. I put the file down and motored back to RangeMan.

Ramon had left a folder for me. It was lying on the table in Ranger's apartment next to the computer. In it were the images we had taken of the Jeep. When I had gotten the Jeep back, I wanted to take pictures of the places it had been fingerprinted. We took the Jeep up to the roof of the building to get the light. First, I took pictures of every angle of the Jeep, then all the areas the police had found fingerprints.

When we were done, Ramon wanted to have the Jeep refitted with a new gun, alarm and tracking device. He said the other one was too simple to disable. I brought the pictures into Ranger's bedroom and dropped them on the bed. I laid down and shut my eyes. I started doing scenarios in my head about how I could have handled Betty Trujillo differently. When I looked at the clock again it was already eight.

My appointment with Mr. Alexander was at ten. I couldn't blow it off or he would never see me again. I rolled out of bed dropping the file on the floor. The pictures flayed out. I sat down and started putting them back in the folder looking at each one. The door to the Jeep probably had been locked, I thought. I looked at the images of the Jeep door and the dust around the keyhole. Someone could have jimmied it. I know I had locked it at the bowling alley. Would she have locked it at her apartment? Probably. That would mean the killer either had a key, or they also jimmied the lock. I looked at the ignition. It didn't look tampered with. Did Jeanne have a key to the Jeep? Maybe she had some device that would unlock doors, but it was highly unlikely she would be able to get the Jeep started without destroying the ignition. So how did she get the Jeep to start without a key, or better yet, where did she get a spare key? I thought about the apartment the night we had her arrested. She could have taken a spare key then. I got up and started searching for the extra key. I looked everywhere. I couldn't find it. It was missing. That explained how Jeanne got into my car. So the killer would have been the only one that would have had to break in, unless they also had a key.

I went back into the bedroom and looked at the next picture. It was of the holster that had been under the driver's side seat of the jeep. I also looked at the side view of the vehicle trying to see the killer reaching in and getting the gun. How did they know there would be a gun under the seat? It's a lot to go through, breaking in to look for a weapon, unless you already knew there was one. It is hard to see unless you know where it is. You can't see it from a casual walk up to a car. The holster itself looks like a part of the undercarriage. It is the obvious spot most people use to hide guns, but it has a key code. Just one button, but a code none the less. You would need to know what it is. For me, they put the code as nine. If you hit the wrong button three times, it locks up and you cannot retrieve the gun at all. An alarm goes back to RangeMan and they have to reset it from there to make it accessible. Next to the gun was a club and a knife. Small but useful. In case you panic and lock the gun in, you at least have something to defend yourself with. I looked and saw they were still in place. I wondered if the alarm for the code went off that night.

I called downstairs. Ramon answered the phone. "Did RangeMan get an alarm for the Jeep's arsenal the night Jeanne was killed?"

"We already checked. No. Nothing came in."

"Where does RangeMan keep all the codes for the gun locks?"

"They are in the computers here. We can get access to them from any of the computer data bases on site. If someone calls in to have one reset, it can be done quickly."

"What are the chances that the lock was not set in the Jeep?"

"Not possible. It's always on."

"What about if the battery on the car was disabled?"

"It does not run on the main battery power."

"So, there is no way that someone could access the gun without either knowing the code or guessing correctly before the alarm went off?"

"That's what I am saying, yes."

I said thanks and hung up. The only way someone would know the code was if they had access to the computers at RangeMan, or Ranger did it himself. Or it was pure luck that the code was put in correct before the third try. Jeanne could have disabled the alarm and took the gun with her, but why would she. What would her reason have been? She was not only in possession of a lot of weapons, but also she wasn't afraid of Ranger, and he had his own weapons. I didn't think Jeanne took the gun out. If she had, she would have also taken the club and the knife.

I took the pictures and notes and placed them back on the bed. My cell phone started ringing. I looked at the screen. It was my mother. I had blown her off yesterday. I couldn't do that again. I would need to explain myself.

Fifteen minutes later, my mother had successfully locked me in for Sunday's pot roast with the family. She was making me bring dessert. Unless you are dead and in the ground, I don't think you could blow that kind of request over at my mother's house. I had no choice. Sunday was on. I was responsible for making sure the entire night didn't crash and burn. I was also reminded that Albert had food allergies. Nothing with peanuts would do unless I wanted to see him blow up like a balloon. Mary Alice didn't like strawberries. Valerie would eat anything I put in front of her, so nothing to fattening, and my father doesn't like vanilla ice cream. I was hoping there wasn't anything I was forgetting. I would need to be there by six or everything would be ruined.

"I almost forgot," she said before hanging up. "Mrs. Gentry said that you have been seeing someone. Her son Fred told her that you were acting pretty friendly towards someone at Joe's Party."

Time stood still. She had mentioned in her message that she knew I was seeing someone. I hadn't had time to think what I would tell her yet. My mind raced for something worthy to say.

"Hello, Stephanie? Stephanie?"

What should I tell her? Should I tell her yes, I have been seeing someone? Or should I take the cowards way out and tell her no. That Mrs. Gentry must be mistaken. Eee...

"Yes?"

"Yes, you have been dating someone? Or yes, you are answering me?"

"I have been seeing someone, Yes." All my fingers wanted to do, was hang the phone up. I closed my eyes and willed them to quit twitching toward the off button.

"Oh, how nice! Is it someone new? Are you bringing him Sunday? I will set out an extra plate!"

"No. No, and don't bother."

"What? What is that suppose to mean? What is, 'No. No, don't bother?'"

I took a deep breath.

"No, it's not someone new. No, I am not bringing him Sunday, and don't bother with the plate. He can't make it."

Now, I got silence from the other end. My mother whispered. "Stephanie, don't tell me you are dating that friend of yours!"

Ok, that could mean many people.

"I have a lot of friends. He is one of them."

Now, I hung up. I didn't know where to go from there. I think Ranger scared the crap out of my mother. He is too hot, and he looks dangerous sometimes. Especially the few times he came over with me to my parent's house. The one thing I had going for me is that she didn't know his real name was Manoso. She would soon enough. I am almost positive she is putting two and two together right now. Crap.

I trudged into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. I loved Ranger's shower. It was the perfect way to take my mind off everything. The water pressure was incredible. I could never get my shower to have this much pressure. It was a selling point in my mind. But I wasn't ready to buy that just yet. I should start looking for an apartment. Maybe, when I go out today I can check out neighborhoods. I liked my neighbors at my old apartment, but I wanted a fresh start. I looked in the mirror and promised myself I would at least look for a new domicile. I couldn't stay here forever. I was confident that Ranger would be released. I needed a new apartment. My mother wouldn't understand this living arrangement. Eventually I would have some problems with it also. Not to mention the obvious. Ranger. He would kick me out eventually.

It was already after nine by the time I emerged from the bathroom. I was hoping for a plan to pick up Betty, or at least a decision about what to bring for dessert on Sunday, but I got nothing. I needed to get to my appointment at the mall. I threw on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and my Chucks. My hair was freshly washed and pulled into a ponytail. I wasn't sure what I wanted Mr. Alexander to do to my hair, but there had to be something he could change to make it less fried out. Arizona was not kind to my split ends. I needed him to either do something to make my hair behave, or I would have to shave it all off and start over. I was hoping that was not the only option he would give me. I ran down the stairs and jumped into the Jeep and motored over to the mall.

While my hair soaked in a vat of hot oil, Mr. Alexander fussed over how he didn't think it was going to work. He said he would need to cut off about four inches of hair no matter what. Ugh. He saw my frown, but he wagged his finger at me and said this was my fault. I should have treated my hair better. There was no excuse. When I left the salon I had a bag of hair treatments and an above the shoulder haircut that bobbed when I walked. I guess it could have been worse. Although, I knew from experience, when my hair is this length, it tends to go "Bozo the Clown" in the morning. Yikes! I would need to be careful, or I would scare everyone away. I was already at the mall so I picked up some new jeans, black slacks, and some new black boots. I also got a cute mini skirt and leggings that were hard to resist. I let myself go into shopping mode. It was like meditation. At least it was when you had money in your bank account. I dropped my bags in the back seat of the Jeep and motored over to the office. I wanted to find out if Connie had gotten a call about my Jeep. It still seemed strange she hadn't called me about it.

Lula wasn't in the office when I walked in. Connie looked up. She had been furiously filing her nails. "You cut your hair. It looks nice."

I paused at the door and looked in the glass reflection. Whenever someone says that, be weary. It usually means your hair looks horrible. "Does it look that bad?"

"No," she said nodding, trying to make it better. "It's just short. I wasn't expecting it. But, be careful though. You know how your hair does that "Bozo the Clown" thing when it frizzes out."

I looked at her. "You know about the Bozo thing?"

She looked down at her nails. "Well, yeah. When it does that, it's kind of frightening."

Great, just great. "Where is Lula?" I asked Connie, trying to change the subject. I really wanted a partner to go to Les's office with me today, especially after that statement about my hair.

"I don't know." She said concerned. "She didn't come in, and she didn't call. Should I be worried?"

"Did you check your messages?" I said cutting my eyes over to the quiet little answering machine sitting on the corner of her neat and orderly desk.

"Yeah, the light's not blinking, see?" She said looking over at it. She put down her nail file and grabbed the nail polish. "Actually, no one has left messages. It's kind of nice, but strange."

"No one?" I said, looking at her surprised.

"No." Connie said thinking. "Not for a couple of days."

"A couple of days!?" I said, now a little concerned. "Have you made sure the machine works?"

"Well, yeah. The light is on. Why wouldn't it work?"

"Hold on." I said. "I have left messages, and the cops said they left a message too. Don't answer the phone, I'm going to call and see what happens."

I called and we let the phone ring. Then we got the machine. I left a message. The machine did nothing. No blinking light, zilch.

"How long has it been since you have gotten messages?" I said realizing we could have a real problem here.

"Well," She said thinking. "At least two days!" Her voiced rose to a panic. She pressed the button on the machine. It told her she had 174 new messages.

"Oh jeez!" She said. "This is really bad!"

We sat down together and hit the play button. She had a pad of paper in front of her, pen poised to write down the date and each message that was left on the machine. Plenty came from people trying to sell them things. We deleted those as they came up. The only ones that were interesting were the police telling Connie my Jeep was ready, four messages letting her know which clients decided not to go to court and four messages from her uncle. He sounded very upset. He couldn't understand why Connie was avoiding him. He had left three messages yesterday, and one this morning. Plus, there was a call from Lula saying she had the Flu. The flu, huh? That's a new one. I think she needs to get a list of better excuses.

"I think you should call your uncle back." I said. "He sounds upset."

"He never calls me. I wonder what it's about. I hope Luanne isn't in the clinker again."

"Who's Luanne?"

"My uncle's third wife. He divorced her, but he helps her out sometimes." She looked through the messages. "Ok, I'll call. I just hope no one died. I hate funerals."

She picked up the phone and she called. All I heard was a heated discussion in Italian. Connie paced back and forth across the office. She had decided on a mini skirt today and a tailored jacket with a scarf. She had on four inch heels that sunk into the carpet as she walked back and forth. There was a lot of screaming and yelling in both English and Italian. She stopped pacing and said, "Ok, yeah. Ok sure. I'll ask. Yes! Alright already. I'll call you back!"

She hung up, staring at me, and shaking her head. "Jeez!" She said. Then she sat down.

I was morbidly curious. For some reason, other people's problems were fascinating. It was easier to help someone out than it was to deal with my own drama. "What happened?"

Connie took a deep breath. "The boys at the docks…they found Tony yesterday. Ya know, "The Tool Guy"?" She said, leaning on her wooden desk. "My uncle said they don't know who the hell whacked him, but it wasn't them or anyone they know. He's pissed. I guess he was good. My uncle said that they hired him to do surveillance on someone. He said Tony disappeared the same night Jeanne Ellen got herself killed. The boys were doing maintenance yesterday morning, cleaning out storage containers and they came across a body that looked like it could be Tony. I guess he was shot in the head somewhere, and maybe dragged into a container. He said there wasn't a lot of blood, and there are drag marks. It looked to him like he had been there a while.

My mouth must have been hanging open. I noticed, and shut it before a bug crawled in and made a home. This was getting scary.

"He thinks it could be related to the Jeanne Ellen Burrow's case." Connie continued. "Especially since she was the one Tony was watching. Uncle Phil said the last thing they need is to have this on their plate. The FBI is breathing down their necks already. The heat is on. He said he needed someone to call it in. So he has been calling me, trying to get a line to you."

"Me?" Oh crap.

"They want you to call in the tip, as a favor."

"A favor?" I looked at her. "That is what he said. 'A favor?"'

"Yeah. That is what he said. They said you call in the tip and they will let you listen to the tapes."

"Tapes, what tapes?" Now I was really interested.

"The surveillance tapes, I guess." Connie said. "Tony was watching Jeanne. You were right, she was the hit. He said he would only tap the phone and watch the property, let them know who comes and goes. He taped it all. I guess there were like fifty tapes he had in his pack when they found him."

My eyes lit up. This might be the evidence that would get Ranger out of trouble.

"Wait, he said all that to you on the phone? What if someone was listening?"

"He has a secure line, and so does Vinnie. No one taps these lines."

"Call him back. Tell him I'm calling it in right now. I want those tapes."

I waited for Connie to call her Uncle back, and then I used her phone to make the call. I didn't know if you could tap cell phones, but if you could, mine would be compromised for sure.

"Stephanie," Joe said as he answered the phone. "You're up and solving crime early. What's up?"

"Tony the Tool is at the docks." I said quickly. "Dead. A couple days." I was hoping he would just say, "Ok, thanks for the tip. Have a nice day."

He was silent for a moment. I heard him shuffle paper and grunt as if he was getting his head around it.

"Did you find him?" He sounded stunned.

"No, I got an anonymous tip." I said. I was trying hard to pretend that he wouldn't want any more details. "I'm passing it on to you. It might be related to Jeanne's case."

"You know, one of these days you will need to explain to me how it is you get all the information before we do. I am counting on blind luck, but it is almost impossible to depend on such a ridicules theory." He hung up.

"When do I get to hear the tapes?" I said.

"Uncle Phil said they need to white wash them first. He said they would be available once any implications were taken off. They would hide them. He said they would call with the location, but if it looked like Tony did the crime, the tapes would not show up."

Fair enough. I really hoped there was something on the tapes that would help get Ranger out of jail. If they didn't show up, I had my answer about Tony being the killer.

Connie needed to get a new answering machine. She was rooting through the paperwork and messages that we had collected. I was pacing back and forth thinking about Tony and what could have happened to him. I really wanted to hear those tapes. Connie was tapping her pencil on the desk. She watched me pace. She went to the computer and started entering all the messages she had gotten from the machine. She pulled up a calendar program. Connie started pulling out some files.

"We have today's most wanted list and the new skips that the machine just gave me. Want me to give them to you?" She asked, looking at a stack of folders.

I debated. I had some time and I was going to wear a trench in the carpet if I kept walking back and forth. I still had Betty and Bernie to catch. Bernie I was holding onto for Sunday. Betty, maybe I could get today if I could come up with a good plan.

"It will probably take a couple days before they will have the tapes for you Steph. No reason to wait around here."

I stopped pacing. "Days?" I groaned. "Ok, you're right. Who has skipped? Anyone I know?"

She looked at the calendar again and took another folder out. "Believe it or not, since Vinnie has been back, we have had fewer problems getting people to go to court. We only have a couple, and they are small time. Probably won't give you any problems either."

Vinnie walked in the back door and went straight into the office.

"Don't look now," she said sarcastically. "It's Vinnie, and he's here before ten. Give him a cookie."

"I heard that." Vinnie yelled out the office door.

Connie stopped chewing her gum. "Damn it, Vinnie!" She opened the top drawer of the desk and rummaged around. She picked up a lipstick and looked at it closely. She dropped it in her coffee.

I looked at the folders on Connie's desk. "Ok, who do you have?"

"For one, a street vendor named Leslie."

"Just Leslie?"

"Yep, just Leslie. One of Lula's friends. Like Cher, he only has one name. He shouldn't give you too much trouble."

"He?"

"Yeah, he thinks he's John Wayne or something. He sells scarves and whatever else he can find at a corner near Stark Street. Ask Lula, she will help you find him. That is, if she ever decides to come to work again."

Lula is out today, probably having fun with Tank. So I picked up the other file.

"Donnie Donatello." I said, opening the file. He was high bond, and probably someone I didn't want to deal with. He was arrested for street racing and receiving stolen property.

"You may want to give that one to Tank." Connie said. "It's not that he is that bad, but he is a handful."

I heard Vinnie laugh. Connie looked at the lipstick in her coffee. She fished the lipstick out and looked at it. It wasn't a bug. Just a stray lipstick someone had left. She started scouting around for another device. Vinnie walked out of the office.

"Let's see you find that one." He picked up the file for Donnie. "If I had been here this would have never come across my desk. I want you to know that Stephanie. This is all Connie and Lula."

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"It means that the next few days might get interesting. Say hi to Donnie for me."

Connie was still looking for the bug Vinnie had put somewhere around her desk. "I hate being spied on. It's the worst." She picked up a pen and took it apart. She started looking under her desk.

I left her to scavenger hunt. I put the files in my bag along with Bernie's and Betty's. I sat in the Jeep and looked at Donnie's file. Reckless driving seemed to be the most he does. He never has a weapon, doesn't like to show up for court. Who does? He was fifty-four years old. Lived in the neighborhood all his life, I wondered if my parents knew him. His name wasn't familiar. I put the file down and looked at Bernie's file again. I remembered I still hadn't decided on a dessert to bring over Sunday. I hoped Bernie would come with Grandma. I motored over to Betty Trujillo's.

I parked in front of the tiny brick house surrounded by a white picket fence. She had a postage stamp size green lawn with flowers bordering the fence all the way around in colors of pink and purple. There was a small walkway and a wooden gate with a creaky hinge. I opened it and walked up the path to a worn "Welcome" mat. Her front door was wood and it had been freshly painted. I put my flak jacket on in the Jeep just in case, and I had my stun gun turned on and ready. My hand rested in my Sig Sauer. I knocked.

Betty Trujillo opened the door again. No shotgun. What was strange is that I don't think she recognized me. I did look a little different. My hair was cut and I was now dressed and had a bulletproof vest on.

"Yes, may I help you?"

I decided on the direct approach this time.

"Betty Trujillo?"

"Yes, that's me."

"You did not show up for your court appearance. I need to bring you in so you can reschedule."

She decided on the same routine. She even used the same blank stare. I was keen to it now. She told me her appointment was Tuesday and I must be mistaken, but before she could turn and pick up her gun, mine was aimed at her. I smiled as I cuffed her and put her in my Jeep. It was a lot easier than using a stun gun. She should be happy. Stun guns can turn messy. No one likes to pee their pants.

I called Connie on the way to the police station. "Did you find the bug yet?"

"No."

"Try the phone. Maybe it's on the phone."

"I did. I am talking to you with only half the phone in my hand."

"Anything yet from your uncle?"

"It's been a half hour, Stephanie."

I dropped Betty off with Eddie. He looked at me funny. "What's this?"

I was lost. "What do you mean?"

"Well, she is awake and handcuffed. You aren't even dirty."

Very funny.

"You got your hair cut. It looks nice."

I touched my hair and checked the mirror on the jeep. It looked like it was starting to frizz out. I rummaged around and found a baseball cap.

He handed me the capture receipt. "Joe said if you stopped by to come see him. He needs to talk to you."

"Tell him I will meet him in the parking lot."

If Joe wanted to talk to me it was about the tip I called in. I watched him walk out to the parking lot fifteen minutes later. I was reading Donnie's file. It looked like Joe was a relative. Joe was related to half of Trenton. Maybe he could help me locate him.

"How did you know about Tony "The Tool" Barella being at the docks?" He said as he walked up to the Jeep. I was leaning against it, protectively. My Jeep. sounds stupid. But I had not owned a car this long, ever. And it didn't even have a dent.

"I got a tip." I said defensively putting down the file.

"Yeah? From who?"

"It was anonymous"

"Tony wasn't in good shape. The area he was in, those containers all had an organized crime vibe to them. Know anything about that?"

I nodded "No."

"He had been there for a while." He continued. "Possibly from the night Jeanne Ellen was killed. That's not for sure, just a guess." He watched me. His look was guarded. "He was ripe. Thing is, he had some electronic stuff on him, we are thinking he may have been doing surveillance."

"Really?" I tried to act surprised. Hoping I was pulling it off to some degree.

"Maybe he got popped because he was at Jeanne's and someone spotted him."

"Could be." I said.

"You know anything about that? " Joe asked. "Anything about, maybe some tapes that might have been on him when "anonymous" found him?"

"Maybe the killer took the tapes." I suggested.

"I don't think so." He said, leaning against my Jeep next to me. "They would have taken other things we found too. They didn't. Just the tapes were missing." He said, pondering.

I shrugged.

Joe looked at me. I knew, he knew I was keeping information from him. He had a sixth sense, kind of like Grandma Bella. Plus, I wasn't too good at lying. I could pull it off with some people, but with stuff that mattered, I never could do it.

"Well, if anything comes up…" he said. "...I would like to see it."

I just looked at him, hoping I could have a poker face for this one.

"If anything comes up..." I said.

Joe stood there staring at me. He wasn't satisfied. He wanted more.

"Ya see the thing is, I think Tony was doing surveillance on Jeanne Ellen. Someone knew she was dirty, but they hadn't decided what to do about it yet. I think maybe the killer might have walked up on him and killed him. Took the body down to the docks and dumped it."

"It makes sense." I said. Knowing that was the theory everyone had so far.

"Yeah, I also think maybe, just maybe, mafia boys stumbled on to him on the docks." Joe said, now cutting his eyes to me has he spoke. "Maybe, they don't want this coming back to them. Afraid of the implications. Then, someone decides to call Connie. They ask her to have you call it in. In exchange for whatever evidence Tony had on him." Joe paused, watching for my reactions. I tried to stay still. It was really hard to pretend that you aren't as transparent as everyone else knows you to be.

"See." Joe said turning towards me. "You usually come in with evidence and a theory. But you're not." He said curiously. "You're quiet, like you don't need a theory. You already know. Poker faces don't work when you have tells, Stephanie. You always have tells."

Shit. Joe was right. I do have tells. Ranger said that too. What the hell. What tells? If I knew, I could work on them. I took back anything bad I had said about his deductive reasoning. He was ten times better at being a detective than I was. I wasn't about to tell him he was right, I had to go with it. "You're a loon, Joe Morelli."

"Ok, Steph." He said. "But keep in mind, I want those tapes. On another offhanded related subject, DNA is back on Ranger. Jeanne Ellen's baby was not his. No sign of Ranger even laying a finger on her that night."

I look a deep breath. That was a huge relief. "When can I see him?" I said, hoping for the best.

"Well, maybe you can see him now." Joe paused. "He caused a problem last night. He is lucky he has friends in high places, or it would have been worse. Joe Juniak is keeping him from being transferred to a high security holding cell. The FBI guys had him evaluated. I am not sure he is allowed to see anyone. Come on, let's go find out. If you get in, you owe me the tapes. I'm not kidding."

I always thought the tapes would go to him eventually. I just wanted to listen to them first. That is if I got them at all.

Joe got the Ok. No one was in today to stop us at least. I was finally going to be able to see Ranger. I had to go through security, leave my stuff in a locker. I was even searched before I could go into a room with him. I sat in the little eight by ten waiting. It had a small table and two chairs. Joe whispered that the room was not secure. Then he left.

Fifteen minutes later, Ranger was walked into the room with two guards. They waited as he sat down and they chained him to the table .

I looked at the young officer. "Is that necessary?" I said surprised at the security involved with this.

"After last night, you bet it is. You know the rules? No touching or contact in any way." He finished checking on the chains, and left the room.

Ranger had on prison gray. It was a sad color. One I never wanted to see him in. He looked Ok, a little rough without shaving for a few days. His face was unreadable. He watched the door shut, and then looked over at me. He looked tired, and he looked like he was very unhappy being in here. He stared at me intently, his eyes serious.

Ranger leaned over the table after they closed and locked the door. "What are you doing here, Stephanie?" he said quietly.

"I wanted to see if you were ok." My voice broke as I said it, knowing that sounded stupid. I was getting mixed signals from his reaction to me being here.

He leaned back in the chair. He raised his hands, and said, "Shh..." Then looked up and around, telling me we were being monitored.

I didn't care if they heard me. "I am going to get you out of here."

He stared silently at me again, making me feel uncomfortable. I fidgeted in my chair. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"They did a psychological profile on me this morning." He whispered, still keeping his eyes trained on mine. They said I was borderline psychotic." He watched me as he said it. His eyes blazed fire.

I sat there and stared at him for a moment, wondering if I should be afraid.

"Really?" I finally said. "They said that from one interview? They're pulling your chain."

He smiled. "Yeah, I know. But you bought it for a second." Then he was back to being himself. I was relieved. I had bought it for more than a second. I thought maybe for a moment that they had the right man. I almost jumped up and pounded on the door to get me out of here.

He smiled and his eyes studied me. "Take off your hat."

I didn't want to take off my hat. I was feeling slightly self conscious about my hair being cut above my shoulders. I took the hat off trying to smooth down my hair to make it less wild.

"You cut your hair. I like it."

I don't know enough about Ranger to think he could be saying that to make me feel better about it, but I think he was telling the truth. Even if he wasn't, he knew how to make me feel better. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to get him out of here.

He was quiet for a moment. His smile left his face. He leaned in again and said quietly "Who the hell killed Jeanne, and why? What did she do to piss someone off that badly?"

I shook my head. "I don't know yet, but I'm working on it."

Whomever it was, took the weapon from the Jeep. They actually took my gun. She was killed with a RangeMan weapon. Christ. How fucked up is that? I am still wondering if they were there after her, me, or both of us? Fuck. This was not the way things were suppose to go that night." He was clearly upset and confused. He raised his hands. "I'm stuck in here." He continued, getting pissed. "I can't run my business. I can't track anything down from here. I have to rely on Michael Rosewall to figure out a way to get me released."

"He's good." I said. "If there is a way, he will find it."

"Angelica." He said, looking at me more intently. "She is off the case?"

I smiled. "She's very pretty."

"Yes, she is." He said.

"She was angry when she found out you were dropping her."

"I bet." He looked towards the door. "You shouldn't have had to deal with that. I'm sorry."

"Joe slept with her too." I said, cutting to the chase.

His eyebrows went up. He was clearly surprised. "Wow!"

He sat there for a moment. Looking at me. Maybe trying to gauge how I felt about it all. "Do you know if there are any other fingerprints in the Jeep besides yours and mine?" Ranger asked, changing the subject.

I had been moving down the same path as he was about the Jeep. I had nothing solid enough to go on. "I haven't heard anything about the crime scene." I said. "Everyone is still pretty much working on it. Plus, I doubt I would ever be the first to know that type of thing."

Ranger took a deep breath, and was looking at his hands. "She didn't deserve this, Stephanie. She wasn't as bad as you think she was. Just misguided."

"No one deserves to be shot and killed, Ranger." I said. "But she was playing a lot of games. Someone didn't appreciate it." I didn't want to say much more than that. Not here. Not with people listening.

"So give me an idea of what you know that you can tell me with cops listening."

"I know she worked for the Feds. I know she had contracts out on her throughout her career, I know she had a lot of enemies. It will be hard to pinpoint which one of those people took it to the next level."

"How did you find out about all the FBI crap?"

"Ramon told me most of it."

"Who do you suspect?"

"There's a long list."

"How long?"

I shrugged. I wanted to be able to say a short list, but it kept getting longer.

"What else have you learned about Jeanne?"

"She was seeing a few people, Mary Maggie was one of them, and she was two months pregnant. What was she thinking?"

"Pregnant?" I could see Ranger was struggling to grasp the concept.

"Pregnant." I said. "But not yours."

"So you know she was an informant. You know that she had dangerous people after her. You know she was not only seeing me, but also Mary and possibly someone else."

"They found Tony Barella down at the docks today."

"Tony? The one that we thought was after you?"

"I think he was watching Jeanne. At least that is what I think. I'm not sure of anything, except that he is dead. He might have been killed the same night Jeanne Ellen was killed.

"You've been busy. Whomever did this is going to have hemorrhoids by the time this is over." He said almost cracking a real smile. "You will end up turning over the right rock, and you'll have the killer." His eyes were very serious. "I can't protect you from in here. You have to trust my team." He leaned into the table. "Be careful. You are moving very fast, whoever did this is going to be watching you. Keep your eyes open, always park at the garage at RangeMan. Have the Jeep fitted with motion detectors and anything else they can come up with. The minute things start to get weird; you call the team in. Stay at my apartment. Please. I want them near you."

"Ok". I said. He was scaring me. I knew it could get dangerous, and he was right, there was no one watching my back this time. I needed to really be careful.

"No Babe, really." He said, making sure I got what he was saying. "No fucking around this time. I don't want anything to happen to you. I feel helpless enough in here. You are important."

He stared hard at me. I took his hand. I knew the rules, but I didn't care.

"Ok….Ok Carlos. I promise." I whispered.

Joe came back in. "Time's up."

Ranger stood as the guard released the lock on the table. He kept his eyes on me until they turned him to walk out.

Joe and I walked out together.

"So, what made you guys decide to have him evaluated and chained to a table for God's sake?" I said looking at Joe as he held the front door open for me.

"Well Stephanie, last night he got out of his cell. He was sitting next to it this morning. He figured out how to pick the lock or set off a mechanism. Who the hell knows? He could have walked out, he didn't. The only reason he is not in a Plexiglas bubble right now is because of the Mayor. The guy that did the evaluation on him said that he is extremely intelligent. They would need to have him here a lot longer to know more."

"Did he say why he got out of the cell?"

"Nope. Our tape shows him, or at least his hands, messing with the side of the door, doing something. Then, it shows the door just opening. He stretched out, did some push-ups, sat down and waited for "lights on".

He looked at me. "Batman."

I just nodded. Joe didn't ask about the tapes again. But I knew I owed him. I would give them to him, as long as there was nothing bad on them. If I got them, I would have Michael make copies.