Janet Evanovich - Ten Big Ones

I had a dilemma now. My eyes were leaking, and my nose was running. I was trying real hard not to progress to openmouthed sobbing. Stop it! I told myself. Get a grip. Easier said than done. I was feeling vulnerable and incompetent. The vulnerable and incompetent Stephanie wanted to run to Morelli. The stubborn Stephanie hated to give in. And the halfway intelligent Stephanie knew it would be a bad thing to leave Ranger's truck sitting in front of Morelli's house. Junkman would recognize it if he rode by, and Morelli's house would be a target for God knows what.

I took the path of mindless action. I stepped on the gas, and I let the truck take me someplace. Of course, it took me to Ranger's building. I parked in my usual spot, two blocks from the garage entrance. I reached under the seat and helped myself to Ranger's gun. It was a semiautomatic. I was pretty sure it was loaded. To say I wasn't a gun person was a gross understatement. I wasn't sure I knew how to fire the gun, but I figured I might be able to scare someone with it.

I retreated into my hooded sweatshirt, locked the truck, and walked head down in the rain to the garage. Minutes later I was in Ranger's apartment with the door bolted behind me. I left the gun and the truck keys on the sideboard. I ditched the sweatshirt, hat, and Kevlar vest. I removed my wet shoes and socks. My jeans were soaked from the knee down, but I'd lived with them like that for the entire day, and I could endure a few minutes more. I'd stopped whimpering, and I was starving.

I stuck my head into Ranger's refrigerator and pulled out one of his low-fat plain yogurts. No way was I going to die with a roll of fat hanging over my waistband.

I scraped the last smidgen of yogurt from the cup and looked at Rex. 'Turn,' I said. 'I'm stuffed.'

Rex was running on his wheel and didn't bother to respond. Rex was a little slow. He didn't always see the humor in sarcasm.

'Probably I should call Morelli,' I said to Rex. 'What do you think?'

Rex was noncommittal on the subject, so I dialed Morelli.

'Hey.' Morelli said.

I gave him my smiley voice. 'It's me. Sorry we had a bad connection this afternoon.'

'You've got to practice your crackle. You've got too much phlegm in it.'

'I thought it was pretty good.'

'Second rate,' Morelli said. 'What's up? Are you going to tell me about Ward? It seems he's disappeared.'

'He escaped from us.'

'Apparently he escaped from everybody. His brother hasn't seen him either.'

'Hmmm. That's interesting.'

'You didn't kidnap him, did you?'

'Kidnap is an ugly word.'

'You didn't answer my question,' Morelli said.

'You don't really want me to, do you?'

'Jesus.'

'I have something else to tell you before this conversation goes down the drain. I met Junkman today. About an hour ago. I was in Ranger's truck, parked in front of the office, and Junkman rapped on my window and introduced himself.'

There was a long empty space where nothing was said, and I could feel the electric mix of emotion traveling the phone line.

Astonishment that this had happened. Fear for my safety. Anger that I'd allowed contact. Frustration that he couldn't fix the problem. When he finally spoke it was in his flat cop voice.

'Tell me about it,' Morelli said.

'He was big. Around six foot two. And he was chunky. It looked like muscle, but it was hard to tell for sure. I didn't get to see his face. He was wearing dark glasses. And he had a big oversize sweatshirt hood over his head.'

'Caucasian, Hispanic, African-American?'

'African-American. Maybe some Hispanic. He had a slight accent. He said he was going to kill me, but he had to kill a cop first. He said he was doing it for fun, but I think that's just part of it. When he left he gave me a hand signal. Probably some gang tiling. Definitely not Italian.'

It's almost ten o'clock. What were you doing in front of the bonds office at nine o'clock?'

'Lula and Connie and I were out looking for Ward.'

'Where were you looking?'

'Around.'

There was another big silence and I sensed things were going to deteriorate now, so I moved to wrap it up. 'Gotta go,' I said to him. 'Turning in early tonight. I just wanted to check with you. And I wanted to tell you I… uh, like you.' Shit. I chickened out! What was it with me that I couldn't say the big L word? I am such a dope.

Morelli sighed into the phone. 'You are such a dope.'

I returned the sigh and disconnected.

That went well,' I said to Rex. Yeesh.

It was ten o'clock at night, and I was bone tired. I'd been cold and wet all day. I had just had an embarrassing phone conversation with Morelli. And one cup of nonfat, unfruited, unsweetened, unchocolated yogurt wasn't doing it for me.

'Sometimes sacrifices need to be made,' I told Rex. 'Sometimes you have to sacrifice weight loss for the pleasure of eating a peanut butter sandwich on worthless white bread.'

I felt a lot better after I ate the peanut butter sandwich on the worthless white bread, so I passed on the milk with the 2 percent butterfat and drank a glass of Ranger's watery, tasteless skim. Am I righteous, or what?

I said good night to Rex, and I switched the light off in the kitchen. I was too tired and cold for television. And I was too grungy just to crawl under the covers. So I dragged myself to the shower.

I stood in the shower until I was pruney and toasty warm. I pulled on red bikini undies and dropped one of Ranger's black T-shirts over my head. I dried my hair, and I climbed into bed.

Heaven. Too bad the bed, the shirt, the whole comfy apartment wasn't actually mine. Too bad it belonged to a guy who could be a little scary. This brought me around to thinking about the lock on the front door. Did I throw the bolt when I came in?

I got out of bed, padded to the front door, and checked the locks. All locked. Not that it mattered with Ranger. He had a way with locks. Didn't matter if it was a deadbolt, a slide bolt, a chain. Nothing stopped Ranger. Fortunately, Ranger wasn't due home.

And the average garden-variety thief, rapist, murderer, gang guy didn't have Ranger skills.

I slumped back to bed and closed my eyes. I was safe for at least a couple more days.

I struggled out of sleep thinking something was wrong. I was caught at the edge of a dream, and something was pulling me awake. It was the light, I thought. Dim but annoying. I'd fallen asleep and left a light burning somewhere in the apartment. Probably did it when I checked the locks. Probably I should get up and turn the light off.

I was on my stomach with my face smushed into the pillow. I squinted at the bedside clock. Two o'clock. I didn't want to get out of bed. To quote Grandma Mazur, I was snug as a bug in a rug. I closed my eyes. The hell with the light.

I was trying hard to ignore the light when I heard the faint rustle of clothing from the far side of the room. If I was a man this would have been the point where my gonads ran for cover and hid inside my body. Since I didn't have any gonads, I kept my eyes closed and hoped death came quickly.

After about twenty seconds of this I got impatient with waiting for death. I opened my eyes and rolled onto my back.

Ranger was leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb, his arms loosely crossed over his chest. He was dressed in his usual working outfit of black T-shirt and black cargo pants.

'I'm trying to decide if I should throw you out the window, or if I should get in next to you,' Ranger said, not looking especially surprised or angry.

'Are there any other options?' I asked him.

'What are you doing here?'

'I needed a safe place to stay.'

His mouth curved at the corners. Not quite a smile but definite amusement. 'And you think this is safe?'