CHAPTER 15

Day 26 Evening

STEPH POV

AN: Many of you have asked if this is a Babe. Yes, eventually. Remember this is a 5 book arch, so it'll be a while before everyone gets their act together. I appreciate all the reviews. Please keep them coming and I'll keep churning out a chapter a day. Don't let me down just because it's a weekend.

It wasn't even nine o'clock, and I'd already donned my Ghostbuster's nightshirt and was snuggled in bed. I had a nice talk with Finn tonight and even laughed a few times. The stories about Barry were priceless. If only there had been video of him peeing himself in front of the other cadets. That would have been golden. I'd probably watch it every day.

I placed my weekly phone call to Hector, and we talked for a little while. Well, I did most of the talking. I told him about everything I'd learned this week, and he gave me the 411 on things back home. He wasn't able to talk long because he was on duty. We hung up, and I was about to fall asleep when my phone rang. It was probably Hector calling back to tell me something he'd forgotten.

"Is this Stephanie Plum?" It was a woman's voice, thin and wavering with age. I frowned and sat up in bed. I had only given this number to three people. Hector, Finn, and Miss. Belle from the bakery in Winston-Salem.

"Yes, this is Stephanie."

"This is Isabelle from Delectabelle's Bakery. I have some awfully sad news for you, honey." I took a heavy breath because I knew what she was going to say, and I didn't want to hear it. "Odette has passed on." Grief caused her voice to crack. They'd been friends for more than sixty years.

"When?"

"This morning. She had another stroke, and there was nothing they could do this time, but she didn't suffer. She went quick."

"I'm sorry. Miss. Odette was a kind woman. Is there anything I can do?"

No, not that I can think of. She pre-planned her funeral arrangements years ago."

"Will there be a service or viewing?"

"There will be a graveside ceremony Monday at 11:00 a.m. Will you be able to make it? She didn't have many friends left."

"Yes, of course, I'll be there. Which cemetery is it?"

"Woodland Gardens in Winston-Salem. My grandson can send you the address on your cellular phone."

"I'll be there. Thank you for letting me know." I hung up the phone, dazed and numb. The last of Sharon's family was gone. I'd planned to visit Miss. Odette again on my way home. I was going to insist she take the remainder of the reward money or tell me how to use it to make her happy. I rubbed my chest. There has been too much loss lately. I had to tell Finn I couldn't train Monday because I had to attend a funeral. I found him reading in the living area, dressed for bed. He looked up at me, eyes narrowing in concern. "I have to take Monday off from training."

"Okay." He put his book on the side table and slowly leaned forward.

"She's dead," I blurted.

"Who's dead?" he patiently asked.

"Miss. Odette. I was supposed to give her money from the reward, but she wouldn't take it." I knew I wasn't making sense.

"Come here." He reached for my hand and pulled me onto his lap as tears began to fall. I wanted the human connection so badly that I didn't even think about resisting. He wrapped his arms around me, rubbing my shoulder to my elbow, and whispered soothing words. Helpless to do anything else, I laid my head against his chest, soaking his t-shirt with my tears. Once the tears started, I couldn't stop. He handed me a tissue from the side table. "Who's Miss. Odette?"

"She was Sharon's grandmother. Her only living relative." I blew my nose and wiped my face. "Sharon was in the cellar with me."

"Sharon Richardson. She was one of the eight women Durant killed." I wasn't surprised he knew her name. He probably knew the case better than I did, and I'd lived it.

"Durant spoke about them so often that I feel like I know them, you know?"

"That's understandable," he said.

"Agent Kinkade asked me to speak with the victim's families to help give them closure, so I did." I sniffed and wiped my nose. "But Miss. Odette couldn't make it because she had a stroke. I stopped by the assisted living facility to see her on my way here. I was going to give her what was left of the reward money, but she wouldn't take it. She said the money would affect her benefits. When I left here to go home, I was going to insist she take it. I never wanted that money."

"You were trying to do a good thing." His arms tightened around me, cuddling me like a child.

My tears had dried, but I still rested my head on his chest and my hand over his heart. It felt comforting, and he seemed glad to lend his support.

"Miss. Odette said she could die in peace now that she knew what happened to her granddaughter."

"What time is the funeral?"

"11:00 a.m."

"I'll go with you."

I must have fallen asleep because I woke up in the morning tucked in my bed, all nice and cozy.

DAY 27

Saturday

We were quiet during breakfast. I was embarrassed about breaking down in front of Finn while he cuddled me on his lap like a child. The man had let me snot all over his shirt, offered to accompany me to the funeral of someone he didn't know, and carried me to bed last night. He did all that without a sexual motive.

I stuck the last bite of the vegetable omelet in my mouth as Finn asked, "Do you feel up to our usual half-day of training?"

"Sure." Between last night and this morning, I realized that Miss. Odette had been hanging on to life until she got closure. Now that she had it, she let go and went to be with Sharon and the rest of her family. Maybe that was true, and maybe it wasn't, but it helped me to think that.

"Why don't we do something fun today? How does a paintball exercise sound?"

I perked up. "Sounds fun and a little messy." He smiled as if he was looking forward to it, and I started to get nervous.

I loaded the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, and we went to the garage. Finn handed me a paint-spattered protective suit and mask. "This will be a little big, but it'll protect your clothes."

"Is this yours?" I asked because the suit didn't look large enough to fit him.

"No. That's Oz's gear. He visits whenever he needs to recharge and get his head on straight after tough assignments. He's ex-CIA and now works freelance." My mouth hung open. Did he just volunteer information that I hadn't asked for? That was highly unusual with the men in my life but deeply appreciated. It felt nice to be trusted.

"Will I get to meet him?"

"You never know. He just shows up unannounced."

I looked at the paintball gun. "Won't it hurt to get shot with one of those?"

"We won't be shooting at maximum velocity." We put the gear on over our clothes and went into the woods, armed with paintball guns.

"Any advice?"

He nodded and smiled. "Don't get shot. And that goes for more than just today."

"Alright, smart ass. Do you have any pointers to keep me from getting shot… like, am I supposed to zigzag or run in a straight line?"

"Zigzagging is a movie trope and will only slow you down. Put as much distance between you and the shooter as quickly as possible, or find cover. If you can get fifty feet away from someone shooting a handgun, you're home-free. Now, a rifle is a different story. I'd advise you to take cover. A rifle can take out a target from a mile away."

"What are the rules?"

"We'll play predator vs. prey. Home base is the climbing rope in the obstacle course. I'll give you five minutes to find a defensible place to hunker down or make your attack, then I'll come after you. Your goal is to make it to the rope without getting shot. Then we'll switch, and you'll hunt me." He said all that while smiling, and I knew I was going to have my ass handed to me. Still, I was hoping to at least provide a challenge.

I headed for an outcropping of big rocks. I thought I'd be safe hiding behind them. Finn snuck up behind me without me hearing him, and I felt a piercing pain in my back. "Owww," I screamed and fell over. The dirtbag was smiling at me when I opened my eyes and looked up. "You shot me in the freaking back."

"You should have heard me coming."

I growled… literally. I was competitive by nature, but this meant war. I went back to the starting point and gave him five minutes before I went hunting. He was going down.

Two hours later, he hadn't gone down.

I had to accept that I wasn't a big enough woman to hand him his ass. I was covered in paint, and he only had one spot where I'd gotten him. I wasn't sure if he let me get that shot or if I earned it, so gloating wasn't even fun, but I wanted to do this again. It provided a good distraction, which was probably Finn's goal.

"I didn't do very well," I said, looking at the paint-spattered tree trunks and rocks from all the shots I'd missed. He was fast, like lightning.

"You gained experience. We can fix the things you did wrong during weapons training this week. By next weekend you'll be better at tracking and hitting moving targets. It's all about trusting your training."

We spent the rest of the day kayaking on the lake with Maggie. Each of us caught a fish, and since I lost the paintball games, it was my job to fillet them. I wasn't exactly getting used to it, but it wasn't as bad as the first time. I brought them inside to add to the foil packets of vegetables he had ready.

After our stomachs were full, we sat back and enjoyed the cool breeze. I expected Finn to bring up last night and the fact that I'd fallen asleep on his lap crying, but he never did. Maybe he was as good at denial as I was.

Sunday, while Finn was running errands, I started a new book called How to Live Like a Fugitive. I kept telling myself that learning these survival methods was a waste of my time and that my nightmare wasn't a harbinger of something horrible going to happen, but I couldn't make myself believe it. Too many times, I have convinced myself my concerns were unfounded and paid the price. After the cellar, I vowed to listen to my Spidey sense, and I would honor that promise. These feelings of foreboding weren't the same as what I felt when Durant was stalking me. I got the sense that what was coming was a result of my choices and the despair from the fallout, not some boogeyman out to get me. Still, as much as I tried to brush the warnings away, they continued blinking like a roadside motel vacancy sign.