Chapter 8: Interrogation

Stephanie spent a long time in Ranger's shower. She wanted to wash away every vestige of her miserable and filthy confinement. She noticed a slight bruising on her abdomen. Her captors had been rough with her during the mysterious confrontation she'd had. The woman had obviously been in charge. She thought there had been some nonverbal communication between her, Morty and the other guy. It seemed like it had been a well-orchestrated attack.

They had wanted to hurt her, but not, in Morty's words, take her out. Whomever the woman was, she had an agenda. The plan was to keep her locked up and scared, until the woman had enough fun. Then they probably planned to kill her in some horrible, slow and painful way. That thought had Steph's knees buckling.

They'd been successful in part. Stephanie couldn't remember ever being so scared. She'd been in terrible situations before, but she'd always known her attackers and, in the back of her mind, she always knew Ranger would never let anything bad happen to her. This time was different, and the fear she felt was all too real. It was the fear that had motivated her to try and escape. Her plan had worked and much to her relief, her fear had gone from the gut-wrenching kind to the low anxiety she was experiencing now, at the simple thought that the shower might run out of hot water before she was ready to get out. Oh yeah, it was Ranger's shower, not the crappy one in her apartment. Her last little dregs of anxiety washed down the drain with the Bulgari suds. She was safe; she was with Ranger.

"Babe?" His voice was tentative, as though he didn't want to bother her, but wanted to make sure she was okay.

"I'm almost done," she told him.

"Good. There are fresh clothes for you in the dressing room. You'll need to get out and get dressed quickly. There will be Federal agents here to speak with you soon."

"Federal agents?" She frowned at the squeak in her voice. "I already talked to the Trenton PD. Why do I have to talk with the Feds?"

"Trenton PD asked for assistance from the FBI. It's a common occurrence when there's been a kidnapping. I have a towel here. C'mon and get out, and I'll help you dry off."

"I, uh," Stephanie hesitated. She knew Ranger wouldn't take the bruising on her abdomen calmly. She wasn't calm about it either, but she wanted to put some distance between her and the incident before she had to talk about it. She knew she was the victim, but she had funny feelings about it. It couldn't be guilt. She wasn't at fault. She knew that and yet she still felt sort of embarrassed that they had been able to grab her and mistreat her. It had been two to one. She'd fought them off as best she could, but she wondered if she hadn't been recovering from her gunshot wound if she could have done better. That she should have done better.

Ranger must have grown tired of waiting for her to answer, because she felt the cool draft of air as the glass door opened and clouds of steam escaped. Ranger curled his fingers around her wet forearm and tugged gently.

"Let's get this over with, Babe," he said. "The sooner you talk to these guys, the sooner I can get a good start on finding whoever did this to you. And if it is a woman, like you think, let me reassure you, I won't go easy on her."

Stephanie let herself be pulled out of the shower. She turned into the big fluffy towel Ranger was holding. She waited, but he made no comment about her bruising, so she relaxed and let him softly rub the towel against her. It was an unbelievable luxury, after the miserable days she'd just had, to let Ranger pamper her. She was safe and wrapped in the arms of a man who loved her, who cherished her. No one could blame her for letting Ranger take charge, and yet she had a funny feeling about that too, sort of like the one she had about being captured in the first place.

With a feather touch, his fingers stroked her temple as he gazed into her eyes. She felt a responding pull deep inside her as she returned his gaze. His eyes lingered on her face. He hesitated, and then pulled her close, his open hand brushing across the growing bruise on her abdomen. "I won't let anyone who's hurt you this way live. I couldn't live with myself if I allowed that," he uttered. She remembered Eddie Abruzzi and knew he spoke the truth.

"Do you need help getting dressed?" he asked her as he took a step back.

With a sigh, she solemnly told him, "No, I can handle it, but usually you want to help me get undressed. I like that scenario better."

Ranger almost smiled. "I know you don't want to talk to the FBI, Babe. I'll run interference when I can, but they are insisting on talking to you so we might as well get it over with as soon as possible."

Stephanie sighed. "Okay. I'll get dressed—all by myself. When and where am I going to talk to these guys?"

"In my office on five," he said. His phone beeped and he glanced at the screen. "I just got a message that they're in the building, so as soon as you get down there, we'll get started." He moved close to her again and pulled the towel tighter around her. His hand skimmed the length of her back. "And then," he said softly into her ear. "We'll come back up here and I'll help you get undressed."

She smiled at him. "Okay, you help me and…" her hands slid around him "…I'll help you." For some reason, the idea of the two of them doing things together felt better than just letting Ranger take care of her. She raised her face and stood on her tiptoes, signaling it was time for a kiss. He gladly obliged.

The agents were waiting in Ranger's office when Stephanie made her appearance. A man and a woman. They stood and as Stephanie moved deeper into the office the man held out his hand. At first Stephanie thought he wanted to shake hands with her, but then she realized he was showing her his credentials.

He introduced himself even as she read his name. "I'm Special Agent Jason Black, and this is my partner, Special Agent Marie White, and yes, those are our real names." Stephanie looked up into a face that showed no signs of humor. Apparently, one too many jokes had been made regarding he and his partner's names. "Our colleagues say we are aptly named as black and white is how we run our investigation. We keep the questions straightforward and we'd like your answers to be the same. Your cooperation is essential to the success of our investigation."

"Investigation," Stephanie repeated. She'd been kidnapped and now she was an investigation. "Are you implying I won't tell the truth?" Stephanie asked, frown wrinkles marring her forehead.

"No, not at all," Marie White said. "We just want you to be as accurate as possible." She gave Stephanie a soft smile and suddenly it hit Stephanie, this was going to be a good cop-bad cop game. She wasn't in the mood for it.

"I will give you the same answers I gave Detective Bouchard earlier," Stephanie told them. "I told the truth then, and I will tell it now. And I'd like to remind you, I was the one kidnapped, not the one doing it."

"We understand that, Ms. Plum." Again, Marie flashed the little smile after her statement.

Ranger had been standing in the doorway. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Mr. Mañoso, we appreciate the use of your office," Black said, "but your presence isn't necessary. We'd prefer to talk to Ms. Plum alone."

"That won't be a possibility," Ranger said. "If you don't want me in here I will get the corporation's attorney down here. We understand that Stephanie is the victim. We want to make certain you understand it as well. So I can stay, or we can postpone this until a later time when Ms. Plum has legal counsel. Your choice."

Marie White addressed Ranger in a clear firm voice. "I'm sorry my partner's words were misconstrued. We, of course, understand completely who is the wounded party here." She shot a look at her partner and he nodded slightly. "You can stay for the questioning."

"In that case, why don't you two sit in these chairs in front of the desk. I'll let Stephanie have the seat behind the desk. She's been through some trauma, and it's the most comfortable chair. I'll stand here by the door."

Stephanie caught the look that passed between the two agents and bit back a smile. The chairs in front of his desk were fairly new, and uncomfortable. She'd accused Ranger of getting hard-backed chairs with stiff seat pads on purpose … to discourage people from lounging in his office. He hadn't denied it. Now he was purposefully placing the agents in an inferior position to the one she would have behind his desk. Ranger was in protector mode, and she was enjoying it.

Ranger didn't interfere with their interrogation. His presence calmed Stephanie who was nervous. She didn't know what the nerves were all about. She was the injured party, not someone on trial, and she knew they got that. Their questions were black and white, not meant to trick her but meant to elicit the most information they could, but they repeated them several times. And the more they asked, the more nervous she became.

Part of her wanted to tell them only the bare bones, because she wanted to get the interview over and get back upstairs with Ranger. But it only took a few minutes for her to realize the questions would keep coming until the agents were satisfied they had all the information she possessed.

With a sigh, she gave in and cooperated fully. She told them everything she could remember. She'd talked with the Trenton PD. If she satisfied these special agents, then maybe she wouldn't have to talk to anyone else. And at least what she said here was likely to stay with the Agency and not be broadcast to Joe. Not that she had anything against Joe. But she'd moved on and she didn't think he had any reason to be involved in what was going on in her life now. The Trenton PD had a gossip grapevine that rivaled the Burg's, so she was sure Joe already had some of the details, in any case.

She told the agents about Morty and the other, still unnamed Ski Mask Man. She told them about the time she and Ranger had rescued Dougie and Mooner, and how the room she was held in reminded her of that. She suspected the men were Mob, but she'd had no recent dealings with the Mob, and definitely none that were adversarial. It was hard to live in the Burg and not have some contact with the Mob. She told them about Morty's slip of the tongue that told her the men were working for a woman ... and then, she told them about the woman who hated her so much.

It took an hour and by the end of the interview, Stephanie was tired. She'd agreed to a late afternoon appointment with an FBI sketch artist. She thought she could give them a good description of Morty. She gave them his shoes, although she figured the only DNA they'd get from them would be hers.

She'd described the area around the building she'd been held in the best she could, but she couldn't remember much about her frantic flight. She estimated how long and how far she'd run, before ending up at the library. The agents said they'd concentrate their search for her prison in a circle with a half-mile radius from the library.

They were efficient, relentless, and seemed compassionate, at least Marie White did. Every once in a while, Jason Black would throw in a zinger that made her wonder if he thought she had faked the whole thing.

They shook her hand at the end of their questioning and promised her they'd find her abductors. She thanked them and said a prayer of thanks that the interview was over. Now she could go upstairs with Ranger. She wanted to make love, but she wanted to talk to him, too. She thought they should talk first, but when Ranger returned from seeing the agents off the floor, the look in his eyes told her they would talk last. That was okay. She could compromise.