Janet Evanovich - Twelve Sharp

'Hey Joyce,' I said.

Joyce turned to look at me, and I threw one of my meatballs at her. It hit her square in the forehead and left a big splotch of marinara sauce.

'Bitch,' Joyce said, narrowing her eyes at me.

I narrowed my eyes back. 'Slut.'

'Skank'

'Hag.'

Joyce grabbed Lula's spaghetti and dumped it on my head. 'I am not a hag,' she said.

'That was my lunch!' Lula said to Joyce. And she dumped Connie's chocolate milkshake down Joyce's cleavage.

Joyce pulled a gun on Lula, and Lula pulled a gun on Joyce, and they stood there pointing guns at each other.

I'm going to fucking kill you,' Joyce said.

'Yeah, maybe, but I got a better gun than you,' Lula said.

'Your gun's a piece of shit compared to my gun,' Joyce said.

'I got a big whup-ass gun,' Lula said.

'Puleeze,' Joyce said. 'I've got dildos bigger than that gun.'

'Oh yeah? Well I bet Stephanie could out-dildo you any day of the week. She's got a Herbert Horsecock.'

'Are you shitting me?'

'No, honest to God. Tell her, Stephanie. You got a genuine Herbert Horsecock, right?'

'It was a two-for-one sale,' I said.

Melvin had managed to crawl under Connie's desk while all this was going on. I looked down and saw him reach out and tag Joyce in the leg with a stun gun. Joyce gave a squeak, went limp, and crumpled to the floor.

'I hope it was okay that I did that,' Melvin said. 'I was afraid she was going to shoot someone. I've never used one of those before. Will she be all right?'

'You did good,' Lula said. 'And don't worry about Joyce. We zap her all the time. When she opens her eyes we'll tell her she slipped in the marinara sauce and knocked herself out hitting her head on the desk.'

I had noodles in my hair and noodles hanging off my ears and noodles sliding down my face.

'You're a magnet for mess,' Lula said to me. 'I've never seen anything like it.'

I picked some noodles off my shirt and dropped them on Joyce. 'I have to go home to change. I'll be back later to go through my stack of losers.'

It was hard to go out through the bonds office front door and not look across the street. Even if I didn't look, if I kept my head down and my eyes diverted, I felt the eerie sadness that always lingers on a murder scene.

I drove back to my apartment, checking periodically for a tail, but so far as I could see, no one was following. I parked and trudged up to my apartment. I opened the door and ran into Ranger in my kitchen.

He looked me over and gave his head an almost imperceptible shake. 'Babe.'

'Food fight with Joyce Barnhardt.' I noticed Ranger had changed clothes and was looking comfy in washed-out jeans and T-shirt. 'I'm surprised to still find you here,' I said to him.

'Tank had to put a threatened witness in the safe house, so I'm going to need to stay here. We've got federal surveillance on the office.'

'I thought you were working with them.'

'I'm working with one man, and he's not sharing that information with anyone.'

'Morelli isn't going to understand this arrangement.'

'You can't tell Morelli I'm here. He's a cop. He's supposed to arrest me if he finds me.'

Ranger opened the refrigerator and took out a plastic-wrapped sandwich.

'Where'd that come from?' I asked him.

'Hal brought me some food and clothes and equipment.'

'Equipment?'

He unwrapped his sandwich and ate it standing. 'In the dining room.'

I looked in at the dining room and had to do deep breathing to keep from screaming. There were two computers, a printer and fax machine, four cell phones with chargers, two cases that I knew contained guns, four boxes of ammo, a large Maglite and a small Maglite, the scrapbook, a stack of folders that I knew were case files, and three sets of car keys.

'Two computers?' I asked.

'One's mine, and the other we took from the apartment in Virginia.'

'Anything interesting on it?'

'His surfing history is what you'd expect. Fascination with martial arts, guns, law enforcement, some porn. He has one basic search program. No information stored that would be of any use. He's done some blogging. Talking about wanting to be a cop. Then wanting to be a bounty hunter. Then he starts mixing fantasy and reality. He talks about working with a superstar bounty hunter. How he's learning a lot but has no respect for his mentor. There's a brief mention of a manhunt where he tracks his quarry to Florida. And the blog stops at that point.'

'I imagine you were the quarry he was stalking.'

'Yes. His scrapbook is filled with photographs from that visit. That's how he knew about Julie. He followed me, did his homework, and put the facts together.'

'You never suspected you were being stalked?'

'No. I try to always be vigilant, but I didn't pick this guy up. It was a complicated surveillance, too. He had to follow me when I left the office, and then follow me into the terminal, learn my destination, and then buy a ticket in time to get on the plane.'

'Do you think he had an accomplice?'

'There's no mention of anyone else.'

'What about Carmen?'

'He'd already assumed his Ranger identity when he met Carmen. He only uses her name once and then she becomes Stephanie. And that's the main reason I'm staying here. I'm sure he's going to come after you. I want to be there when he does.'

'You'll use me to get to Julie.'

'Are you okay with that?'

'Of course.'

Ranger picked a spaghetti noodle out of my hair. 'I'd like to think I was protecting you at the same time.'

'You mean I won't be a sacrificial virgin?'

'Too late for that, babe.'

My cell phone rang, and I looked at the screen. Morelli.

'How's it going?' I asked him.

'The ME is releasing Carmen's body today. We didn't get anything off the car. Doubtful if we'll get any DNA off Carmen. There wasn't a struggle. She was shot at close range through the open driver's side window. If you're reading the papers you'll see this is getting a lot of press. Daughter of Trenton bounty hunter is kidnapped and wife murdered.'

'Do you have any theories? Suspects?'

'I'm working on some angles. And I'm under a lot of pressure from above to bring Ranger in.'

'Understood.'

'Where are you?'

'I'm at home. There was an incident at the bonds office, and I ended up wearing my lunch. So I came home to change.'

'You aren't harboring a fugitive, are you?'

'Who, me?'

Morelli gave a disgusted sigh and hung up.

'Sounds like that went well,' Ranger said.

'Yeah. If I get caught with you I'll go to jail for a thousand years.'

Ranger gave me a smile that didn't quite make it to his eyes. 'I could make it worthwhile.'

'I'll hold that thought. Right now I need to take a shower and get the noodles out of my hair.'

I went into my bedroom, closed the door, and stripped out of the spaghetti clothes. I hopped into the bathroom and stopped short when I looked at the sink. Ranger's razor and shaving gel, Ranger's toothbrush. I went back to the bedroom and looked in my closet. Ranger's clothes. Ranger had moved in. I locked myself in the bathroom and did some more deep breathing.

Ranger was slouched back in his chair, long legs stretched out under the dining room table, his attention on the computer screen.

'How's the search going?' I asked him.

'It's going in slow motion. It feels like two lifetimes have gone by since he took Julie.'

'Anything new?'

'Pictures and background on Scrog. His mother is Puerto Rican. He comes by his skin and hair naturally. Nothing that has a big orange arrow on it saying Look Here. A profiler would find him interesting. Some of his makeup is classic and some is off the map.

'He's an only child. Early school reports are that he's smart, but he doesn't apply himself. He's a dreamer. Shy. Doesn't participate in class activities. Middle school, he does a nosedive. Failing grades. One of twelve boys questioned about molestation by a local priest. He receives counseling and the diagnosis is that he has low self-esteem and has difficulty separating fact from fiction, leading to a poor sense of consequence for his actions. High school, he's tracked with underachievers, doing some remedial work. At home he's spending hours playing computer games. His mother thinks he's a genius. His counselor thinks he might be borderline psychopath. His work history is erratic. He can't keep a job. He resents authority. Most of his jobs are sales. Music stores, movie theaters. Had a good run managing a comic book store with a gaming room. Took some computer courses at a community college but nothing came of it.'