Chapter 20

I wasn't at ease until we were on the third floor of the RangeMan building. I kept watching the security camera's. Waiting for the men we saw at Seabring's to pull in and surround us. Tank watched with me for a few moments, then went into the conference room and dropped his pack onto the table. I followed him in. He pulled out the files we had recovered and put the shredded documents in a box. I knew Edward's file was in there. I also knew it was unlikely we would ever get them back together enough to read what was in it.

Hal, Ramon, Lester, Cal and Tank stood together with me in the room. Seven files sat on the table in front of us. One file was thicker than the rest. R.C. Manoso/RangeMan was written across the top in bold block letters. Embossed underneath his name, An FBI insignia and shield. Ramon picked up the remaining six files. They all had the same insignia and bold block lettering. He dropped each on the table, reading the names.

"Lester Seabring, Ray Faxon, M.M. Mason, Mortius Feinstein, Eugene Marron, and Paul L. Banter."

"Paul Banter?" I said. This was a surprise. Across the top of the file, written in red was the word, "Closed." Next to it in smaller block letters, the initials "J.E.B.". Jeanne Ellen Burrows could have been J.E.B. "Is it possible that Jeanne Ellen was a fixer for the FBI?" I asked. Anyone working in the world of surveillance knew that it was possible the targets you watched could eventually become the person you killed. For snipers and covert operators, it was part of the job. It wouldn't be a very big leap from one to the other.

"I'm wondering the same thing." Tank said. "Maybe she was doing a lot more than just spying on these people. If she was working for the government, anything is possible. There are some jobs they throw at you that question your morals. The thing is, you don't have to take them. Jeanne had one hell of a background. I really wouldn't be all that surprised. Although, I don't want to believe that of Jeanne."

Neither did I, but why were these files hidden and the others out in the open? Maybe the files that were shredded into strips were not as delicate as the ones we had in our possession. Edward Montoya's file had the same insignia and block lettering as these did. Was his death really a suicide, or was Jeanne responsible? He would have been a threat. He had very special skills, and he knew a lot of information that could have gotten him killed, but his file was not hidden like these were.

Paul Banter was a Mafia hit. At least, I thought it was until right now. The initials J.E.B. had me wondering if I was wrong. Mr. Banter was still a problem. He just kept coming back into the equation. I keep thinking his case had been closed, and then he comes rolling back in. Thinking about it, I seriously hoped that was not how Joe thought of me.

Jeanne was investigating at least eight people. Any of those people could have found out about what she was doing, and went after her. And what about the numerous files that were underneath Edward's? Who else did she have information on?

"Who are these people?" Ramon said, looking at the pile in front of us. "Who is Eugene Marron, and why was she investigating him? What about Mortius Feinstein?"

"Ray Faxon is now Chief of Police in Trenton." Tank said. "He must have been important to the FBI for some reason. The police station blue prints were in with the documents we found in Eddie's desk. Faxon was probably a target or at least part of an investigation."

While we looked through the other files, Tank had picked up the one that said R.C. Manoso/RangeMan.

He shuffled through handwritten pages, reading bits and pieces of information. His eyes scanned quickly. "Carlos's entire life is in this file. Everything from birth to present." Tank said. "From what I see here, about twenty-five years ago Jeanne Ellen Burrows started watching the Manoso household. The FBI wanted his father. He was a threat. According to this, she requested numerous times to be told of the circumstances surrounding the surveillance. The FBI would not give her the details. His case closed two years later." Tank looked up at us. "The initials next to it… are J.E.B."

An uncomfortable silence swept through the room.

"Didn't Ranger's father disappear?" Tank asked.

"That's what he told me." I said. "According to Ranger, he disappeared from the cabin in New Mexico. He had been hurt in a training exercise. He had a bullet in his brain, and it altered his perceptions. He was afraid he would hurt someone. He stayed at the cabin so his family would be safe from him. One day, they got a call that his father was missing. It was assumed that he wandered off and got lost."

"That's what he told me, also." Ramon said. "Told me there was a search but he was never found."

Tank looked concerned. "This does not prove that his father wasn't disabled during friendly fire, or that he didn't wander away, but it does put questions out there. What if he felt he was endangering his family because of what he was involved with? Possibly staying at the cabin to keep them out of harms way and using the bullet in his brain as logical reasoning?" He held up the file. "If the FBI knew we had this, we may all disappear. Let's not share this one with the police." Tank flipped through more of the paperwork. "I don't see any mention of a file for his father, just the requests from Jeanne asking for more information. Maybe they just wanted her to keep an eye on him."

Then why are her initials next to the notation, "Closed"? Hal asked.

"Maybe she just closed the file because he disappeared." Cal said, hopefully.

Tank read through the next few pages. "There is no mention of a disappearance, or of any search for his father. There is all kinds of information leading up to it, why not that? It would seem that it would be a very important part of her investigation."

I got a little shiver. Maybe these files are more important than we first imagined. I looked over at the monitors. I was half expecting to see men in black standing there, staring at us through the monitors surveillance cameras.

Tank continued to read through the file. "Surveillance has now moved from Richard Manoso, to his son Ricardo Carlos Manoso. It is set up a few years later, at age ten. He was already becoming a problem for the police. Jeanne is asked to watch him, keep loose tabs because of who his father had been. It clearly states in here that she should use whatever means necessary to keep him on a leash. By age thirteen, she had done just that. She has written in that she became involved with him and supplied him with what he wanted. Money, sex, and drugs. In exchange, she used him for some of the covert operations she was involved with. He had become an excellent thief. She was training him, but he was getting harder to control. She used him to gather data about the neighborhood, and steal information she needed from others she was watching. She told Carlos she was a private investigator."

"Why would the FBI be so worried about Carlos? Even if his father was a problem, what did that have to do with him? He was just a kid. Why would they need Jeanne to be on his jock?" I asked.

Hal shrugged. "Maybe he knew what his dad was doing?"

"Possibly, but he was eight. I think Ranger would have mentioned it to one of us if that were true. It also would have been more obvious as to what Jeanne was doing. Ranger is smart, if he knew what his dad was into, he wouldn't have fallen for the private investigator line she threw at him." Tank said.

"Maybe he saw something. Maybe he saw things he wasn't supposed to see, and the Feds are worried that Ranger is a witness to a crime they committed." Lester said.

"Again, it's possible, but Ranger loves this country and he still believes in the laws and the government for the most part. If he had seen something like that, I think it would have altered how he does things. He definitely would never have joined the military if he felt they were the bad guys." Tank said.

"Maybe Ranger was injected with experimental DNA, and they need to watch him to make sure he didn't flip out and turn into the Hulk or something." Ramon said with a serious look, as if he was hoping it was true.

I rolled my eyes, but secretly, I wouldn't have doubted it.

"Maybe his father had hidden documents, and no one knew where they were. Maybe they were afraid that one day Ranger would find them" I said.

"There is nothing in this file stating anything about why they were so interested in him, including experimental DNA, Ramon." Tank said. "At seventeen, she encouraged Carlos to join the military. She wanted off the detail. Apparently, she was beginning to get a conscience."

We all stood as Tank went through Ranger's file. We were still pumped from our trip to Sebring's. None of us felt comfortable enough to sit down and relax when he was reading information that meant so much to us all. We listened carefully to what was said. He was reading fast through the notes, trying to get a handle on what was happening. He flipped a few more pages, hoping for answers.

"The paperwork jumps dates quickly. There are minor notes about his education, and a very detailed report of his service record. It looks to me like he was off their radar. I know that when you are in the Army, you are monitored constantly, no need for outside babysitters. Five years later, the notes are becoming detailed again." Tank said. "He is now out of active duty. She has a common relationship with him. Her notes are more sporadic and less thorough. He was almost family."

Tank continued to read the file about Ranger. Cal and Ramon sat down. We started to relax as the hour ticked away. I was beginning to feel secure again. Rangeman, for all intent and purpose, was an extremely safe place to be. The building's security systems were on high alert after what we had witnessed at Seabring's building. Alarms were set with new codes. No one would come in unannounced. We listened silently, relaxing. Finally we were all seated as Tank read.

"Ranger was out of the service, and back in Trenton." Tank said. "He has a lot more knowledge and skill. He becomes Jeanne's competition for bounty hunting and he is making trips overseas for mercenary work. It jumps again to where our team comes in, and he establishes RangeMan. The FBI has him on full surveillance for his business practices, keeping Jeanne on him full-time. This breaks off two years later, when she confirms that he is following the laws and is not a threat or problem. She tries numerous times to get him off the FBI watch list."

Tank picked up a written document and read through it quickly while we waited for more. "There is a note here from the bureau. It states that Jeanne Ellen is no longer working the case. It says she has become emotionally involved. She can no longer be effective. They request all the documents for the case be surrendered."

I raised my eyebrows. "Since we have this file, does it mean she had copies to give them? Or, does it mean she never complied?"

"I think this was years ago. I have a feeling she complied, or your source would have told you a lot less than he did the day you met him." Tank said. "There are several letters she has written to someone at the bureau asking to be put back on Ranger's case. Eight times she tried. Each time she was denied. It looks like she kept up with him anyway, regardless of what the FBI wanted. She stayed in the game."

Tank picked up a stack of folders in the main document. He read off our names as he handed each of us a file. The one he handed me, had my name written on it, like the names on the other files; block lettering, FBI insignia; the whole enchilada. We all had a file in Ranger's life. No one spoke as we opened them.

I looked at it carefully, feeling the embossed shield that was on the front. The file was dark brown, and the shield was of the same color. To me, it was ominous. I wasn't comfortable with the FBI having information about me. It made me feel like I had done something wrong, before I had even cracked opened my folder. The block letters to me, signified importance in some way. Having this in my possession had me on edge.

I glanced over at the folders that were left in the stack. I was curious as to whom Jeanne had decided was important in Ranger's life. I picked them all up, looking at the names. I fanned through them quickly. Most of the women's names I knew. Trisha, Angelica Rodriguez, Suki Takahashi.

Wait. Suki Takahashi? I glared at her name. Her file was like the rest, but it was a name I had never heard, and the only woman's name in the lot whom I was unfamiliar. Who the hell was Suki Takahashi? As curious as I was at this moment, it wasn't ok that I pawed through Ranger's personal life. Whoever the hell Suki was, I bet she made up the fabulous four. I touched the file again and then turned around, leaning on the table to open my file so I wouldn't be tempted to open hers. I already felt like we were violating his personal life as it was.

I did want to read my file. For the next hour, all of us were engrossed with our own personal history, or what Jeanne had believed made us tick. I was taken aback by not only the personal nature of what she had, but the coldness of how she had written it. The write up on me was not exactly flattering. She had my school records all the way through college, my family tree, job history, (yikes), relationship history, (jeez), and credit history, (holy cow). I lived a sad life according to Jeanne Ellen Burrows.

She definitely was thorough. I didn't appreciate her digging into my life, and I hoped the FBI did not have copies. I realized how vulnerable we all were. I was curious how she had retrieved some of this information. The report listed sexual preferences, how many partners I had, and basically what styles I liked best. How she acquired this type of information made me feel extremely uncomfortable.

I glanced up from my file to see I was not the only one who felt a lesser amount of warm fuzzy security after reading this information.

"Jesus Christ, that is just not cool, man." Lester exclaimed. "How the hell did she even know some of this stuff?" He dropped the folder on the table. "That, is going in the incinerator."

"If I knew this kind of information was being written up about me…." Ramon shook his head. "I don't know man, that's some fucked up shit right there."

"It's obvious from everyone's reactions, that if someone had found out she was doing this type of investigation, they would have motive to kill her. I can't say that I would be any less of a suspect if I would have known." Tank said.

"Count me in." Cal said.

Hal shook his head in agreement. "That' shit ain't right. All that is no one's business."

"Ok," I said. "Not including us, who else would feel like Jeanne needed to die after finding out what she had on them?"

"The list just got longer." Tank said. "This might take a while to figure out. We can't rule anyone out."

I put my head in my hands. Besides finding out that Jeanne was a lot worse than we suspected, we had not moved any farther forward. I seriously hoped that the FBI did not have these files in their possession.

I picked up Les Seabring's folder. He was the number one suspect in my book. There was the same detailed information that we all had in our files, along with a long impressive history of community service and being a team player in politics. He was an all American great guy according to Jeanne Ellen; he even ate a balanced diet. She completely white washed him. I was thrown. According the her, he was nothing but an honest law-abiding citizen.

It's not that I was questioning his role as a human being, but it just seemed like it was an unrealistic point of view. Maybe she truly did love this man. Although her head was definitely in the sand. According to her, he did nothing wrong. This gave us zip, zilch and basically zero to go on. To me, it made him even more of a suspect. When I questioned him, he was almost cold in his reactions about her as a person. There was no love in his voice, no anger that she had been killed. He had fooled us both. He was definitely a very good actor, or he never loved her to begin with. Either way, to me, it made him much more of a threat.

I was covered in sweat. I woke up late and went on my morning run. The sun was hot and humid in the sky by the time I got back to the building. Ramon had gone with me, and so did Cal. None of us were up for conversation. We found ourselves deep within our thoughts of what those folders had told us about ourselves. Did others perceive me the way that Jeanne had? If so, I needed to work on myself. Maybe Cal and Ramon felt the same way. They gave me a high-five as they got out of the elevator on three. I continued up to five to start the day.

Ella must have been in the apartment while I was out. Everything was clean and smelled great. She had left my requested yogurt and granola in the fridge. It's not that I particularly liked granola, but it made the yogurt tolerable. I still wanted Fruit Loops for breakfast, and I thought I could substitute it with granola and yogurt. It is my attempt to eat healthier. I poured some granola in the yogurt and tried it, then decided Fruit Loops in the yogurt might be better, but only if the yogurt had fruit on the bottom. I ate two yogurts. The second one with the Fruit Loops won out over the granola. Maybe next time, I will just have the Fruit Loops instead of the yogurt. Why mess with perfection?

My cell phone rang as I emerged from the shower. I looked at the display. Grandma Mazur.

"Hello?" I said, as I pulled the towel from my head and started drying off.

"Stephanie, is that you?" Grandma said, in a whisper.

"Yeah, it's me, Grandma."

"I need you to come over, I got a problem."

"A problem? What kind of problem?"

"I think Bella killed Bernie."

I stopped drying my hair and paid more attention.

"What? Is he dead?" I knew that was a stupid question before it completely fell from my mouth, but it came out anyway. I rolled my eyes, thinking I was the idiot Jeanne Ellen believed me to be. "Where are you?" I said, trying again.

She whispered back. "At my apartment."

"Where's Bernie?"

"In the bedroom."

"Are you sure he's dead?"

"I think so, the paramedics are here and they think the same thing. They just brought in a body bag. I thought he just fell asleep. I thought he was just really tired. We were fooling around and he went to sleep right in the middle."

Yikes, I didn't want that image.

"When was this?"

"Sunday, after we came home from dinner. I thought he was just sleeping, but then he started to smell. So I called 911." She whispered again into the phone, I could barely hear her. "I think Bella killed him."

"At your apartment?"

"No, the night we took her home, Sunday. Bernie and Bella had an argument. He wanted to come home with me, and she wanted him to come back to her daughters with her. Stephanie, she gave him the eye. Wished him dead!"

I heard muffled voices in the background. "Grandma, what is going on?"

"They want me to give them a statement. Here, talk to Joe."

"What? No!..."

I heard the phone clank down for a moment. I heard the sounds of police radio, then Joe was on the line with me.

"Yeah….?" He said. He covered the mouthpiece and told someone to take Grandma Mazur in the next room to take her statement.

There was a sigh through the phone. "Hello?"

"Your homicide. Why are you at my Grandma's?"

"Your Granny told the 911 operator someone killed Bernie Horowitz. I got the call. I guess it's my lucky day."

"Did she tell you who she thought killed him?"

"I haven't gotten that far yet."

"She thinks Grandma Bella did it." I got silence on the phone that only Joe knows how to pull off.

"What?" Joe said, flummoxed.

"Yep. Grandma said Grandma Bella gave Bernie the eye Sunday night and wished him dead."

"What?"

"You heard me. Don't keep saying,"What."

"Your grandma called in a homicide because of a spell my grandmother put on Bernie?"

"Yeah. Guess you need to go question your grandma."

The phone disconnected. I wasn't sure, but I don't think it was a mistake.

I called my mother, and told her that she needed to meet me over at Grandma's.