"To catch up to the refrigerator truck. The Jeep ran out of gas, and I needed to refuel," I said, climbing inside the SUV.
"You got it. What about the police?" Ranger asked, pulling away from the gas station as I buckled into the seat.
"They can wait. I must catch up to the truck to determine its destination," I replied.
Carlos dialled a number and told the person to stay at the gas station until the police arrived for a statement. Speaking Spanish, the man asked, "What do I say?"
I told him everything I had seen leading up to the explosion. The man disconnected when I stopped talking. "Who was that?" I asked as Carlos raced up the road, weaving around the cars to catch up to the refrigerator truck. He was driving thirty miles over the speed limit.
"Hector," he replied. "Don't worry about the police questioning you. Hector will ensure they have all the information needed. That gas station has dated security cameras. Hopefully, the attendant wasn't dumb enough to erase the footage. He wouldn't want to be at the receiving end of Hector's disappointment."
We caught sight of the truck after travelling a few miles. "Thank goodness Louis drives slow," I said in relief. Carlos, who was emulating his Ranger persona, nodded.
"He's only going ten miles over the limit," Ranger replied, matching the speed to maintain our distance. Louis turned left onto Hammonton. Not a lot was down that road. It led to the marina, if I wasn't mistaken. We followed until the truck entered the Pachetco Inlet Marina and Cold Storage. I could see boats beyond the building and the sun shining off the water's surface.
"Turn around, and we can wait up the road," I said.
"What are we waiting for?" the Ranger asked as he executed the perfect U-turn just past the entrance. He slowly drove past the marina entrance so I could see where Louis parked the truck. I was thankful Ranger didn't try to take over my mission. He respected the leadership, offered assistance when necessary, and followed my orders.
The truck was close to the docks. Louis was standing beside Sal. Both men leaned against the back bumper, seemingly awaiting someone to arrive. Who did Sal call? The parking lot held a few cars, but I couldn't tell if anyone occupied them.
"We could have waited where the road dead-ends at the Mullica River, but I need to ensure Terry and Joe arrive. They are supposed to be at Sal's Gal soon. I don't want them to see me and bolt," I replied, checking my watch. Ranger nodded and drove to an area close to the gas station but out of sight from vehicles driving along the highway. "How did you get here so fast?" I asked, calculating the time to contact the pilot, file the flight plan, drive to and from the airport and wait for someone, likely Rosalyn, to arrive for babysitting duty. Dad and Rosalyn lived close to us, which probably helped. Ranger must have taken advantage of the nearly non-existent traffic in the early hours. He would have hit rush hour traffic entering Trenton.
"Lester heard the dispatch over the police scanner and called me," Ranger replied. "I left the children with Rosalyn. She will tell them I had to leave sooner than expected. We have to call them tonight." I loved how Rosalyn and Dad never strayed too far from their grandchildren while Al and I were on a mission. They were readily available when we needed help with the children. Mom would have watched the children, too, but her price involved endless lectures. I don't recall ever leaving Mom alone with my kids.
"But you were supposed to be with them," I argued. "And using the jet to come here is a waste of money."
"Our children will understand that I needed to be here to help and protect you. Coming to your rescue is never a waste of money. We can afford it," he replied. Before I could tell him that I didn't need protection, Ranger said, "Babe, Lula died an hour ago. She lost too much blood, and her body couldn't recover from the internal injuries."
"But how…" I asked, unable to finish forming the question. The hospital staff wasn't authorized to notify anyone except family members. It was the police detective's job to tell the next of kin in a homicide case.
"Bones," he replied. "Helen Fuld was closest to your apartment. I've been trying to find you when Bones said you never visited the hospital. I called Al. He gave me your coordinates and access to your tracker." I hated people monitoring my movements, but I thought it was for the best because I didn't know what Ramirez would do.
"Ramirez cut her," I whispered. "It's all my fault for talking to her. He punished Lula to get to me. I was planning to visit Lula after I caught Morelli."
"Babe, it isn't your fault. Ramirez is a sick, twisted and sadistic man. He feels sexual pleasure when he hurts women. I know he would have done the same with anyone who questioned Lula," Ranger said, trying to absolve my guilt.
"I don't think so. Ramirez knew it would frighten me, which was his sole purpose. He wanted to keep me in a state of fear to ensure my compliance when he decided to harm me. It worked. I'm terrified to face him again and want to go home," I sighed. Ranger grabbed my hand and placed it on his thigh. I felt his comforting touch and relaxed. "We need to nail Ramirez's ass to the wall and make him pay for killing Lula. She might have been a hooker, but she didn't deserve to die. Lula tried to help me."
Fifteen minutes later, we parked in our hiding spot. A silver Porsche drove past. I couldn't suppress the goosebumps from erupting on my skin. Ramirez achieved what few men could. My body reacted adversely to the memory of that man. I wanted to run and hide. Sensing my distress, Ranger gently stroked my arm to calm my nerves. I was frightened for my life. The driver rolled down the window and tossed something outside the car. I grabbed a tissue and jumped out of the SUV to grab the object. Ranger watched as I jogged back to the car. He pulled a plastic bag from the console and held it open. As we examined it, I gasped.
"Babe?" he asked.
"Is this what I think it is?" I asked. He motioned for me to share my suspicions. "It looks like a remote detonator. I thought the ignition triggered the explosion. The ticking usually means the bomber used a delayed timer unless it failed and the remote was their backup."
Ranger took the bag and flipped it over, taking a close look. "You're right. This model is readily available on the internet. Someone wanted to blow you up in the Jeep. Babe, you need to be careful," he said. "I'll have a guy check for the receiver on Morelli's Jeep. There should be enough pieces to identify the device."
"That Porsche belongs to Ramirez. Do you think he was trying to kill me?" I asked. Ramirez would have to be within fifty feet for the detonator to work and the thought made me sick to my stomach.
"He doesn't have the brains to pull it off. Ramirez was taken into custody this morning," Ranger replied. "He isn't the one who pushed this button."
"Then who was driving the Porsche?"
"I'm betting on Alpha," he replied. "He has access to Ramirez's apartment."
"If Morelli ends up being innocent, I owe him a Jeep," I said.
"Babe, his insurance will cover it. Morelli is far from innocent," he reasoned. Ranger looked tired. His fear of something happening to me was evident in the lines on his handsome face. I hated worrying Ranger and the children.
Al's voice filled my ear. "Terry and Joe are approaching your location. I'm a few miles behind them."
Terry's silver Toyota passed our hiding spot. We waited until Al's car approached before pulling onto the road. "Hold back," I said, giving Al the instructions. "We must wait a few minutes to catch them off guard."
The mob princess, the self-proclaimed Italian Stallion, a butcher and a shooter meeting at the Pachetco Inlet Marina made me increasingly more curious. It seemed Terry and Morelli were involved in the drug smuggling ring. We had evidence to implicate them, but we needed the smoking gun to charge them officially. "Steph, Agent Weaver is on the way. He found the footage at Domino's and has the warrant to arrest Terry and Morelli," Al said. He waited as I repeated the information for Ranger.
"Thanks, Al," I said. "Morelli is already a fugitive. He skipped bail. Now we have to worry about other people getting involved."
We entered the marina's parking area. Terry had parked her car beside the refrigerator truck. It was stupid to park so close to the people they were meeting. Why didn't Morelli tell Terry to park elsewhere? I would have parked on the other side, tucking my car behind the shipping containers stacked seven feet away from the edge, leaving enough room for the workers to walk around them and unload them into vans or pickup trucks.
"Grab the case from the glovebox," Ranger ordered, parking out of sight. I did as he requested, finding a container with another comm set for him. He removed them from the box and linked them to our frequency. "Can you hear me, Al?" Ranger asked, inserting the earbud into his ear.
"Yes, Sir," Al replied as he parked beside us.
We walked along the edge, finding the white refrigerator truck parked in the same spot as it was when we drove past. It hadn't moved. Louis and Sal were nowhere to be found. Ranger, Al and I cautiously walked along the docks, searching for the boat named Sal's Gal.
"We're like a freaking convoy," I mumbled. Ranger raised a brow while Al chuckled. Al stopped when Ranger glared at him. We found the boat. I took photos as Terry and Morelli opened the steel drums to examine the contents. White powder sprayed from the barrel, leaving a light dusting of white on the dark surfaces.
Ranger moved silently across the boat's deck to place bugs on the door and window. They were small and blended into the frames. He returned, unnoticed by Terry and Morelli, within seconds. We jumped into the ship docked on the other side, and hid below the deck. I was pleased Al could move without tripping over his feet. Ranger had linked the bug to his phone and let it broadcast through our comm units. He recorded the conversation to use as evidence against Terry and Joe.
"I received the shipment, and I transferred the payment to your account," Terry said, talking to someone on the phone. "Meet us at midnight for the exchange—one hundred metres off the coast, in our usual location. I need you to dispose of a few steel drums in return. I'll stash payment on the boat. Someone will need to climb aboard to collect it. You can find it in the cabin in the lockbox beneath the control panel." It sounded like Terry was setting up the person to get caught.
Terry paused for a few moments. "You'll need to meet Joe. Our guys, Louis and Sal, are dead. Someone killed them before I got the pleasure," Terry said disappointingly. She laughed evilly and added, "Sal panicked because that bounty hunter bitch Plum visited him when Louis was collecting the barrels containing the bodies. It's hard to find good help these days."
"Terry, stop giving them too much information," Morelli hissed. I sensed him searching for people listening to their conversation. "Someone could hear us." Did he hear us? Could he feel our presence?
"You're imagining things, Joe. Nobody is here besides us," Terry replied.
"Someone could hear us," he insisted. Terry ignored his concerns.
"You have your orders, Striker. Or have you forgotten that I am the boss?" Terry demanded, raising her voice enough for us to hear without needing the comm units. "Striker, you do as I order, or I will put a bullet between your eyes." I thought Striker was the boss. We got it wrong. Someone fed us the incorrect intel, and I immediately thought of Morelli's contact, Agent Smith. I researched him and discovered he was in the Navy with Joe. Smith recruited Morelli for the assignment because of their friendship. I doubted Smith knew he was providing insider intel to the criminal.
"Shhh," Morelli hissed.
"Thank you for agreeing, Striker. You won't be disappointed with your bonus," Terry politely said. "Morelli, what the fuck is your problem, and why the fuck didn't you get Sal and Alpha to move the product to our warehouse?" Terry demanded, sounding deadly.
"Alpha was supposed to arrange the movement. He was too busy protecting that foolish boxer. I thought I saw movement on the other boat," Joe said as their boat swayed and bumped against the cushions, protecting it from damage.
"Don't act paranoid. We would have seen someone. The waves are making the boats rock, and you're confusing the curtain's motions as people," Terry dismissively replied. "Come on, we must ensure one of the barrels contains Carmen. We can't let anyone know that you killed her with our drugs."
"If we get caught by your carelessness, I will kill you," Joe warned.
Terry laughed. "You will be their only suspect. I have evidence to point at you for all of this," Terry said, waving her hand around the boat. Morelli stood to his full height to tower over Terry. She slapped him and added, "Video proof. Every interaction was recorded. Don't worry, lover. I don't have these cameras on. They are never live when I'm here." It was cocky and a challenge. Ranger texted someone our GPS location. I had no idea what he was trying to accomplish.
"I never should have trusted you," Morelli yelled. My spidey sense screamed when I suspected Morelli's reaction was an act. He was manipulative and got Terry to do his bidding unknowingly. She was merely a puppet in his scheme. Joseph Morelli was like his father. He used, abused and made others pay. Eventually, Morelli would die alone like his dad.
"You never had a choice, Joe. Your father owed Uncle Vito two million dollars that he spent on his whores, drugs and booze. It's your debt to repay because you have no wife or children. I could always get someone to toss your mother and grandmother from their home. Would you prefer I took everything from your mother?" Terry challenged. The woman was brutal. She was much worse than I thought.
"I gave you Striker's number," Morelli foolishly confessed. "You wouldn't have millions of dollars in your offshore account without me."
Ranger grinned as someone hacked into the boat's cameras. We huddled close to watch the display. Morelli stealthily removed a packet from his pocket. He emptied it into his hand when Terry turned her back on him. Terry turned to face him, and as she inhaled to start yelling, Morelli blew the powder into her face. She choked and sputtered. Her eyes rolled back in her head before she collapsed. Foam leaked from her mouth as her body violently shook. It was tragic and outright frightening. I had to cover my mouth to stop myself from screaming.
Laughing, Morelli grabbed Terry's phone. He accessed her offshore accounts and transferred every penny to the one he had set up. "You're nothing but a money-grabbing whore," Morelli said, wiping his fingerprints off the phone and throwing it on the ground. He stomped his boot on it for good measure. "Now, I can arrest those assholes and win detective of the year for shutting down this drug ring. Nobody will know it was my mission to overtake your uncle's mob. My father never owed Vito a cent. It was a lie that Vito told my mom to keep me under his thumb. You and Vito used my position in the TPD to keep your family out of jail. It put my career on the line. Then I get mixed up in this clusterfuck. Vito doesn't own Trenton. I do." We watched in horror as Morelli opened the barrel and removed some of the drugs to spread around, making Terry's death look like an accidental overdose. I couldn't believe he was so cold and calculating. Morelli had everyone fooled.
He must have had a stroke of guilt or a glimmer of compassion for the woman he used to love. Morelli took a deep breath and lifted Terry off the floor. He tossed her over a shoulder and carried her off the boat.
"Clandestine," I whispered, cautiously leaving my hiding place. Ranger and Al followed. The men let me take the lead if Morelli hid near the truck.
I rounded the truck to the back and found Morelli standing inside with Terry's body haphazardly tossed at his feet. He poured gasoline over the bodies. Morelli removed a lighter from his pocket and flicked it. I shouted, "I caught you, asshole," and slammed the door closed, securing the lock to prevent him from rolling the door up and escaping.
"Babe, you never disappoint," Ranger said, hugging me.
"Help me find the keys for this rig," I said as I climbed into the cab. I found the keys Louis stupidly left in the ignition.
"Weaver's here," Al announced before I could start the truck. I sighed and exited the cab. There was no point driving Morelli to Trenton when he would likely die from inhaling gasoline fumes. I would still receive the ten grand if Morelli died, but I didn't want the responsibility of letting him die when I could have saved his worthless life.
"Where's Morelli?" Weaver asked, looking around for the man.
"I trapped him in the back. We should probably let him out. The idiot poured gasoline over the bodies," I explained.
Weaver sighed and removed the lock. Morelli lunged as Weaver pushed the door up. Joe tossed the lit lighter behind him. I turned as Morelli fell to the ground. A horrible crunch followed by his screams of pain indicated he had broken something. Flames whooshed from the back of the truck. I felt them licking the back of my hair before Al used the water pump nearby to douse the fire. "Barker, douse them. We need the evidence," Agent Weaver ordered.
Once the flames were gone and the EMTs loaded Morelli, with a compound break in his right arm, into the ambulance with two reliable agents, Agent Weaver, Al, and I carefully climbed into the back of the truck. We opened the barrel closest to the door. Inside was Carmen Sanchez. I covered my mouth to stop the vomit from escaping. The other two barrels contained dead women. One I recognized was Shaniqua Brown. "I'm sorry, Al," I said.
Al sighed and shook his head. "I thought she went to visit her mother in Philly," Al sadly said. "We need to contact her family." Louis, Sal and the unidentified woman needed to have their families notified of their deaths. It was a sad day with too many tragic events.