Chapter 27

I checked my watch for the third time in ten minutes. It was still early in the afternoon. Pacing back and forth was not getting me anywhere. I kept glancing at the phone, willing it to ring. I wanted to go down stairs and do something productive, but Tank told me that I was fidgeting so much he couldn't concentrate. Ranger's apartment was making me claustrophobic. I spent an hour at the gun range shooting targets, and two hours at the gym. My arms were sore, my legs were sore, but It didn't take away the uneasy feeling I had.

Ranger was suppose to have been released twenty four hours ago. We were still waiting for the call. Something was wrong. Four days had passed since we had given up the tapes to the police, care of one Joseph Morelli. Both Tank and Michael had copies made and then watched as the originals were taken in as evidence, and sealed away with a coded number. After what we had gone through to get them, no one was taking any chances.

Since then, I had been waiting for the story to break. So far, no huge manhunt was being conducted. No news reports suggesting a mass murderer was on the loose. Not in the local paper, not even on the internet. No reference to anything involving Sebring anywhere.

It felt like Michael Rosewall's receptionist was stone walling me. According to her, he was in court all morning, again. I had a sneaking suspicion that he was dodging my calls. Michael had been out of touch for two days. There was something going on I was not privy to. Not only did I feel like I was kicked out of the loop, I thought I might actually be out of the game.

Half of the Rangeman staff was gone. Tank's plate was full. I wasn't going to get a lot of support for conspiracy theories. He was letting Michael handle it. Jeremy's team had to be replaced and Eddie Montoya was still an open wound. To make up for it, everyone was working double shifts. Tank was now on as lead. He was bringing in people from other offices to help out. Rangeman would be hiring a whole new security detail. Tank wanted Kyle to manage them. Kyle Reese trained me in Phoenix. I had intentionally come on to him to get information about Ranger and the rest of the team. They were all so mysterious. Kyle had to know something. I thought if I flirted with him, he would open up about his old Army buddies. My plan backfired. He totally rejected me. I was thinking It might be slightly awkward seeing him again.

Ranger had been the one who told me to look Kyle up in Phoenix. He had a karate studio not far from our new office. His self defense classes were always full. He was a top notch instructor. Not only did he have Brad Pitts good looks, but he had the body of a cage fighter. Women paid top dollar to be taken down by Kyle. So I flirted with him. Maybe it was to get back at Ranger for telling Kyle "hands off". I was not a possession, and it pissed me off. In the end, It didn't matter. I could have taken off all my clothes and paraded around in front of him. He wasn't biting. He was a close personal friend of Rangers. Deep down, he wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that. I had to respect him for it.

My mind was on Phoenix, wondering what would have happened if I actually would have taken all my clothes off. I had successfully gotten my mind off the clock. I heard my cellphone ring. I dug it out of my bag and said hello without checking who the caller was.

"Stephanie." The voice was low and raspy. I checked the screen, but it said private.

"This is she, who is this?"

"Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

The voice was so quiet I could barely hear. The person was laughing. I was positive the voice was male. I listened closely trying to understand what it was they were saying. Suddenly the voice changed. I heard Tony's voice. It was the tape recording of the last few moments of his life. I heard the surprise in his tone, the scuffle and the gun shot. I could even hear the body being dragged. That was the worst part. The caller shut the tape off.

"You won't be able to hide in that building forever."

I almost peed my pants. I realized he had hung up, but my hand was shaking so hard, I dropped the phone. I jumped away from it like it was a spider I couldn't get the courage to squish. I was not expecting a phone call. It threw me. The only people who had those tapes were Rangeman, Michael Rosewall, The Trenton PD and the person who stole the copies from our vault. Les Sebring. Shit.

He knew I was at Rangeman, and he knew I had listened to the tapes. I had worked it out in my brain that Les Sebring was no longer in Trenton. He was in Tahiti or Mexico. Maybe even the Bahamas or Mars. Anywhere but here. Why would he stay? He had a huge window of opportunity. He could have easily slipped away. Maybe he had. Maybe he was calling from some tropical paradise a million miles from here.

My confidence was shattered. Anyone who could catch Jeanne Ellen off guard, had my attention. I went to the window and looked out, searching for anyone that resembled a threat. I scanned the park across the street from the building. I saw a woman jogging and two others power walking, kids were playing on the swings. Then I saw him. My heart almost leapt out of my chest. He was watching my window. Rangeman had tinted windows. During the day, no one could see in. But It looked like he was staring right at me. He wore a brown bomber jacket and black slacks. His mirrored aviator glasses made it impossible to get an accurate facial description. His hair was dark brown, but I knew it was him. It was Les Sebring. He had dyed his hair.

I grabbed the phone from the floor and dialed Tank's number. I looked out again, and the man was gone. Tank answered after four rings.

"I just saw Les Sebring." I was taking deep breaths, trying not to panic.

"That's not possible." He said.

"What?"

"We got a call an hour ago. They found his boat floating off the coast. It was still burning when they got there. There is not a lot left. The police think Sebring, his wife, and their two daughters were on board. Coast guard says it looks like it could have been something electrical. The Fire Marshall is on his way now."

"That sounds hinky." I said

"Yes it does, but they are treating it like an accident."

"Do you think it was an accident?"

"No."

"He was in the park, Tank. Unless I have become The Ghost Whisperer, Les Sebring is alive. I hope they do dental on the bodies.

"Maybe it was someone who looked like him, could be a coincidence. "

"He called me first."

I thought I lost the phone connection. "Hello?"

"Yeah, I'm here. I just sent Hal and Lester over to check it out."

I called Joe.

"Make this quick. I'm in a meeting."

"Have they gotten the dental match for Sebring yet?" I asked.

"You heard about that? This just happened less than an hour ago. They haven't even gotten the boat into the harbor, much less anything off of it. I'm heading down there as soon as I clear this press disaster. Apparently, they think I need to make some official statement."

"You?"

"Yeah, go figure." Joe's voice turned to a whisper. "Don't get your hopes up for dental, Cupcake. Between you and me, it looks like a bomb, and Les might have been sitting on it."

"That doesn't sound like an accident."

"I am drawing the same conclusion."

I grabbed my keys and headed downstairs. I wanted to be there when they brought in the boat. I needed to see for myself that Les was dead. Tank had anticipated my actions. Hal was leaning on the back fender of my Jeep.

"We going somewhere?"

"I forgot to come and get you." I said lamely.

"Don't sweat it." Hal said. "My brother rode the short bus to school, too." He jumped in the passenger side, and buckled up.

"Good one." I said, as I eased my Jeep into the afternoon traffic. "Did you find anything at the park?"

"Yeah, a ripped up photograph of you."

I felt my heart beat a little faster.

The harbor was twenty minutes from Rangeman. As we drove, I could see black smoke in the distance. There was no need to check police channels for a location. Chemicals, water soaked burnt wood and a few things I didn't want to identify, got stronger as we pulled into the Harbor parking lot. The harbor master's office sat facing the docks. It doubled as a small general store that carried high priced fishing gear, packaged food, bait and of course, beer & ice.

Joe's tan Fairlane was parked haphazardly inside the police barrier. I swung the Jeep into the first place that looked relatively safe and cut the engine. There was crime scene tape across the entrance to the main boat docks. In the distance there was a tugboat pulling something that still smoldered. Black soot and gray smoke trailed behind what was left of Les Sebring's boat. I instantly felt horrible for his wife and kids. From what I remembered, his children were about the same age as my sisters kids. I hoped they had all died instantly.

I spotted Joe. He was watching as the wreckage was pulled into the dock. He saw us, and signaled one of the men nearest to let us through. The tugboat let the charred remains drift close enough to the dock to catch. The yacht was still smoldering. White billowy clouds rose up as fresh water was sprayed over the hot remains. I could hear the crackling embers as the cold water touched the smoldering pieces and parts that use to be "What Ever The Sea Brings." Near the back of the boat, there was a gaping hole. Wood was pulled up and splintered. It would be hard to say this was an electrical fire with a hole that big.

Joe walked over to us. He still had the swagger. He was wearing Jeans and a vest that stated "Police" with a white shirt underneath. I had to say, Joe was still the hottest cop in New Jersey.

"Wild horses couldn't keep you away, huh?" Joe shook hands with Hal.

"So, do you really think Les was on-board?"I asked. The air was thick with smoke and bad odors. I tried not to breath anymore than I had to.

Joe looked back at what was left. "That's what I am hearing. Why?"

"Who's working the case?"

"Not me, if that's what your thinking. Its going to Foster and Jones. They want me on as a consultant."

Joe folded his arms. "Okay, spill. I can tell when something is bugging you."

"What if I told you that wasn't Les Sebring on the boat?"

"I'm Listening."

"He called me."

"When?"

"Right before I called you."

"You sure it was his voice?"

"Well, No. Not positive. He was whispering. It was raspy sounding."

"Les doesn't have a raspy voice. What did he say?"

"He said he would be seeing me soon. He said I couldn't hide in the building forever. Then he laughed and played the tape of Tony getting whacked."

"Someone could be pulling your chain. We have no reason to believe that wasn't Les on that boat with his family. The harbor master confirmed the pair took their daughters out yesterday for a day cruise. Everything looked normal to him. He identified Les. They went to high school together."

"Well, Someone was in the park watching the Rangeman building." Hal said. "Stephanie saw them and called it down to us. We went and checked it out. Found this."

Hal pulled a ziplock bag out of his pocket. Inside the bag was the picture he told me about. It had been ripped up into tiny little pieces. I could see something had been written on back of the picture, but I couldn't tell what it was. My stomach didn't feel all that well anymore.

Joe took the bag from Hal and looked at it. "I'll bring this in and have it put back together. Just to be safe, What did this guy look like?"

"The guy looked like Les Sebring, but his hair was dyed brown."

"What was he wearing?"

"A brown bomber jacket and black pants. He was wearing aviator glasses, so I couldn't get real good look at his face."

"This could just be a sick joke, Stephanie."

"You think so?"

Joe looked over at the boat. "I don't know. You have a habit of pissing people off. It could be any one of your admirers."

We watched as what was left of the boat was tied to the railing, and the tug boat pushed off.

I really hadn't considered the possibility that it wasn't Les outside my window. One crazy person after me at a time was about all I could handle.

"So, how come no one is wearing all the protective gear you always see on CSI?" I asked.

Joe looked back at me. "For one thing, this is real life. Not only that, this isn't the crime scene. The boat is. When they go near it, they will need to wear protection. The boat was out about 20 knots. It was anchored when it exploded."

"So now you think it exploded?"

"We have eyewitnesses. They heard it. Said it sounded like a bomb. They didn't call it in right away. They weren't exactly sober, and they were fishing off the docks. The harbor master frowns on both of those things."

The boat knocked against the dock, scraping soot onto the wood. It looked gutted. I remembered the picture of what the boat had looked like. It was unrecognizable now. I dug the picture out of my bag. It had been safely tucked into my pocketbook since I borrowed it from Les Sebring's office. I tried to compare it to the boat in front of me. "Whatever the Sea Brings" was a yacht. I couldn't say how big it was from the picture, but this boat looked a lot smaller. In the photo I had, I could see some of the registration numbers. The end numbers in the picture were JX951. The registration numbers on this boat were NJXL5 17241. It was possible that he had re-registered the boat, sold the boat for this one, or transferred title and had to change the numbers.

"How many boats are registered to Sebring?" I asked Joe.

"We only found this one."

"Can you find out if he had another boat?"

"He doesn't, at least not in his name. "What Ever The Sea Brings" is the only boat that is registered to him. Why?"

I showed Joe the picture. "Does this look like the same boat?"

He took the picture from me. "Where did you get this?"

Clearly, he was missing the point. "I borrowed it. Just look at it and tell me what you think."

Joe studied the picture and then what was left of the boat in front of us.

"It looks like a different boat. Same name." Joe sounded irritated. "Where did this come from?"

"I already told you. I borrowed it."

"From who?" Joe was now in cop mode. Arms crossed in front of him, his eyes were piercing black orbs, digging into mine.

"From Les Sebring." That was correct. I did borrow it. I didn't tell him where I found it, or that I found it underneath a family picture on Les Sebring's desk. I had a feeling Joe would think that was stealing. I was going to give it back. Eventually.

"How come you never showed me this picture?"

"It wasn't important at the time."

I could tell that Joe was trying to get a grip. Clearly I had caught him off guard.

"Anything else you can think of that you held back from the investigation?"

"No." Maybe.

He took the picture and walked closer to the boat. "I am not an expert when It comes to photo identification, but the boat we have looks smaller. Maybe he sold the one in the picture." Joe studied the picture closer. "Who is that with Les?"

"It's Jeanne Ellen." I said.

Joe scratched the stubble that was now more prevalent on his face. It had to have been over twelve hours since he had been home. His five o'clock shadow had doubled. I knew that I was testing what was left of his patience. Joe cleared his throat. This is never a good sign.

"How long have you had this?"

I shrugged. "A while. I guess?"

"So, you knew he was having an affair Jeanne before you heard the tapes?"

"We were leaning in that direction, yes."

"But you decided not to tell me about it?"

"I didn't think you would be all that happy about how we came to that conclusion in the first place."

I was dancing on the head of a pin, and probably digging a deeper hole. I just couldn't seem to stop myself.

"So, Is there more your not telling me?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" Joe said. I saw his eyes dilate. I took a step back.

"I'm keeping the picture." He said.

"Where are you going to say it came from?"

"Anonymous source."

I tried to change the subject. I knew he was pissed, but I had come down here for another reason. "What about Ranger?"

Joe searched my eyes and then looked down and sighed.

"What about him?"

"How come he hasn't been released?"

"I cant talk about that."

"What?"

"You need to talk to his lawyer, Stephanie."

I didn't like the sound of that.

We all turned as the water was shut off. The boat was now cool enough to board. I suppose within a few hours they will be able to take what is left off the boat and get the bodies over to the lab for autopsy. From the looks of it, I am not sure if they will get more than ash.

"Do you still think that Les Sebring died in that explosion?"

Joe looked back at the boat. Trisha and the rest of the forensic unit was dressed in medical garb and climbing on board the charred remains of Les Sebring's so called boat.