‘Going Rogue’ Chapters 17–20

“Anyway,” I said. “I’m fine, and I just came for my laundry.”

“You don’t look fine,” my mom said. “Did you put something on that cut? You should have gotten stitches.”

“I didn’t need stitches. It’s mostly a bruise.”

“This never happens to your sister,” she said. “She’s married. She has children. She lives in a house with two dishwashers.”

I loved my sister, but honestly, she was a baby-making machine. I had lost count of the babies. And what does a person do with two dishwashers?

I thanked my mom and carted my laundry out to my car. I put it in the backseat and returned to the office. My Whatever was small, and I was able to squeeze most of it behind the bus. As long as a garbage truck didn’t come down the alley, I’d be okay.

Connie was on her feet when I rolled in.

“I need to bail someone out,” she said. “Text me what you want for lunch. I’ll stop at the deli on my way back.”

“Did the kidnapper call?”

“Yes. Short message for you. ‘Tell Plum to live in fear. We want our money.’ And they sent a picture. I texted it to you and Lula.”

“It just came in. I haven’t had a chance to look at it.”

“It’s disgusting. And it brought the whole horrible ordeal back to me,” Connie said. “I hear that voice and I get heart palpitations. I’m having trouble sleeping at night. I sleep with the light on.”

“That’s terrible,” Lula said. “I tell myself not to hate anyone, but I hate these kidnappers. It’s hard to find my zen with all this going on.”

Connie left and I opened the photo she’d sent. It had been taken in a dark room. There was a black object in the frame.

“I can’t make this out,” I said to Lula.

“We had the same problem,” Lula said. “I thought it was a giant bat at first. You know how they hang upside down with their wings folded around them. When you enlarge it a little you can see that it’s Vinnie. I figured it out because of his tight pants. See, at the top are his pointy-toed shoes.”

“Is this upside down?”

“No,” Lula said. “Vinnie is upside down. They got him trussed up and hanging from some kind of hook.”

I went light-headed and nauseous. I sat down, bent over, and told myself to breathe.

“I don’t think he’s dead,” Lula said. “I think he’s just hanging there. You can sort of see his face, and he looks angry. You know how he gets all squinty-eyed when he’s really pissed off.”

My phone rang and I saw that it was Ranger.

“We enhanced the picture,” he said. “It looks like they’ve got Vinnie in some sort of industrial building. The wall behind him is grainy. It’s the sort of concrete wall that you might see in a commercial garage. They have him bound with duct tape and hanging from a hook that you would find in a restaurant freezer or a meatpacking plant. They also use hooks like that in certain conveyor systems.”

“Do you think he’s okay?”

“He’s dangling upside-down from a hook,” Ranger said. “I don’t think he’s happy. I’m going to send someone out to scout around some industrial areas. In the meantime, you need to be careful. Hal said the bus got moved to the alley. We have a camera back there and I have a car on Hamilton, but there’s still more risk for you parked in the back lot. I wouldn’t want you there at night.”

“Understood. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yes. You can learn how to shoot a gun without knocking yourself out. I don’t have any time today, but Tank has an hour to give you instruction. Meet him in my rifle range at three o’clock.”

Ranger and Tank were in Special Forces together. Ranger was point and Tank watched his back. This is still their relationship. I’ve seen pictures of Tank when he was a kid. He was built like a tank when he was four years old, and that’s always how he’s been known. Tank. I suppose he has another name, but I don’t know what it is. He’s big and tough and he has a cat named Fluffy.

Lula looked at me when I hung up. “What?”

“I’m getting firearms instruction at three o’clock.”

“From Ranger?”

“From Tank.”

“Hah!” Lula said. “Poor Tank. You’re one of those hopeless gun people. You haven’t got good gun juju. Some people have it and some don’t. I’m lucky I’ve got it. I naturally take to guns. I don’t need instruction. I let my instincts take over and I point and shoot. I’ve got instincts up my gazoo.”

I’ve seen Lula miss a target that was three feet away. Probably one’s gazoo isn’t a good place to store instincts.

+++

Connie hustled into the bus with bags of food from the deli. “I’ve got pastrami on rye for Lula, grilled cheese with bacon for Stephanie, and a bunch of extras. Coleslaw, macaroni salad, some chips, they threw in some extra pickles, and there’s three-bean salad that Gina made fresh this morning.”

There was only room for two people at the dining table, so I ate standing up at the sink.

“Who did you bond out?” Lula asked Connie.

“Some guy who caused a scene at the coffee shop on Third. He was barking like a dog, and he bit a couple people. His eighty-year-old mother was in court with him. She signed for the bond. She said he got rambunctious when he didn’t take his meds.”

“I like it,” Lula said. “We need more crimes like that instead of the same old rape, murder, and armed robbery stuff.”

“Anything interesting happen here?” Connie asked.

“Stephanie’s getting shooting lessons this afternoon,” Lula said.

Connie stopped eating. “Really?”

“Ranger set it up with Tank,” Lula said. “Remember when Stephanie decided to clean her gun in the dishwasher?”

Truth is, I still don’t know how to clean a gun, but I know enough not to put it in the dishwasher.

I finished my sandwich and grabbed my messenger bag. “I’m heading out for the day. I need to go home and get my Smith & Wesson. Let me know if there’s any news, horrible or otherwise.”

I drove down the alley and waited at the corner of Hamilton to let the Rangemen catch up to me. I couldn’t shake the image of Vinnie hanging from a meat hook. It was ugly awful. If Tank was willing to take the time to teach me how to use my weapon, I was going to pay attention. And I was not going to lose my escort. Ranger was working to find the kidnappers and we were inching our way closer to that goal. I had to do my part to stay safe.

Benji was sitting on the floor in front of my door when I got to my apartment. He got to his feet and gave me a bag.

“This is for you and Lula and Connie,” he said. “Housewarming gift for the bus. I haven’t seen it yet, but Beedle told me about it. He said it’s being guarded by guys dressed in black, so I thought I’d give this to you here.”

“They’re friends of mine,” I said. “You can visit anytime you want.”

I let us into my apartment and opened the bag. It contained a stack of superhero comics and the Thor action figure Lula wanted.

“This is great,” I said. “Thanks.”

“I decided not to go to Hawaii,” he said. “I have a bunch of friends here, and I like selling comics and stuff. Anyway, as soon as I got the money, I used it to buy the comic store and I couldn’t get my money back. I renamed the store and I’m having a grand opening on Saturday, if you guys want to come.”

“What’s the new name?”

“Benji Land.”

“That’s perfect!”

Benji left, and I took my S&W out of my brown bear cookie jar and put it in my messenger bag. I read a couple comics, brushed my teeth, retied my ponytail, and drove to Rangeman.

Ranger’s gun range is in the basement, next to the garage. I met Tank in the first-floor lobby, and he walked me down the back stairs to the soundproof room. We sat at a table, and I took my two guns out of my bag.

“Let’s start with the basics,” Tank said. “Name the parts of the gun.”

Turned out that I didn’t know many parts. I was pretty much lost after trigger and barrel.

“We only have an hour so we’re going to concentrate on the Glock 42,” Tank said. “It seems like that’s the one you use because that’s the one that’s loaded.”

“Ranger gave it to me that way,” I said.

“How many magazines do you have for it?”

“This one.”

“No extra ammo?”

“No.”

“Any ammo for your S&W?” he asked.

“No.”

“Oh boy.”

“I’m not really a gun person,” I said.

“You will be after today,” Tank said. “Both these guns are thirty-eight caliber. The S&W is a revolver, and the Glock is a semiautomatic. Ranger gave you the Glock 42 because of the size and the recoil. Even though it has the least possible recoil you still managed to knock yourself out.”

“There were circumstances,” I said. “We were scuffling on the ground, and I didn’t knock myself out. I was momentarily stunned.”

“That’s encouraging. The Glock 42 is equipped with the ‘safe action’ system. It’s a fully automatic safety system consisting of trigger, firing pin, and drop safeties, which sequentially disengage when the trigger is pulled and automatically reengage when the trigger is released. It gives you six rounds in a flush-fit magazine.”

“I don’t know what any of that means.”

“Okay,” Tank said. “Moving on. Release the magazine and reload.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Oh boy.”

“Look,” I said, “I know I’m stupid about guns. I don’t like guns. I’m afraid of them and I don’t want to shoot anyone. But I’m in a bad situation and I have an opportunity to learn some- thing about my weapons, and I’m going to make the most of this opportunity. So just try to be patient and I’ll try to pay attention.”

“Deal,” Tank said.

Twenty minutes later I knew all the parts of the gun. I knew how to load it and safely carry it. Ranger had tried to teach me all these things a couple years ago, but we’d ended up naked on the floor. There was no danger of this happening with Tank. I liked Tank a lot, but naked? No. And besides, Ranger might kill him.

“Okay,” Tank said, “let’s see you shoot. I’ve set up three targets at different distances. Try the closest target.”

I two-handed the little gun and squeezed off a shot.

“You’d have more luck hitting the target if you didn’t close your eyes,” Tank said.

“I know,” I said. “It’s one of those reflex actions.”

“Well, we have lots of ammo and we’re going to stay here and shoot until you keep your eyes open. If your eyes aren’t open after ten minutes of shooting, I’m using duct tape on your eyelids.”

“Jeez. You’re tough.”

“I lied about the duct tape.”

He adjusted my grip and after about twenty rounds I started keeping my eyes open.

“This is better,” he said, “but you’re making a scrunchy, slitty-eye face that’s creeping me out. Pretend you’re Ranger and you have no emotion.”

“Ranger has emotion,” I said.

“He doesn’t show it when he’s shooting.”

I took a moment to channel Ranger, then I fired off a round and almost got a bullseye.

“Wow!” I said. “Did you see that? Look what I did!”

Tank was smiling. “You have a good eye. Your problem is attitude.”

I shot for the rest of the hour and Ranger came in. “How’s it going?” he asked Tank.

“She’s a sharpshooter,” Tank said. “I might marry her.”

“That doesn’t work for me,” Ranger said, “but I’m glad she can shoot.”

“We only had time to spend with the Glock,” I said. “I’d like to come back and learn how to use the S&W.”

“We’ll set something up,” Ranger said. “I want you to come upstairs with me to look at the photo.”

I thanked Tank, took my guns, and followed Ranger up the stairs, into the elevator, and into his apartment. He closed the door and pushed me against the foyer wall. He leaned into me and kissed me. The first kiss was soft and serious. The second kiss was all passion.

He broke from the kiss and our eyes met.

“Let me guess,” I said. “You get turned on by sharpshooters.”

“Not all sharpshooters,” he said. “Tank is obviously a better instructor than I am.”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t marry Tank,” I said.

“Would you marry me?”

“Is that a proposal?”

“No.”

“Testing the waters?” I asked.

“Curious,” Ranger said.

“I honestly don’t know the answer. The fast reply might be negative, but there’s Ella to consider.”

“You’d marry me to get your sheets ironed, your clothes folded, and gourmet food in the kitchen?”

“It sweetens the deal.”

“Something to remember,” Ranger said. “Let’s go into my office. I want you to see the kidnapper’s photo in high definition.”

We went into his office, and he pulled the photo of Vinnie up on his monitor.

“The first thing that I see is that they’ve used duct tape to hang him on the hook,” Ranger said. “This suggests that they don’t intend to keep him there for very long. I think this is a setup to scare you.”

“It worked,” I said.

“I don’t see any sign of real torture on Vinnie. He’s still fully clothed. He doesn’t look tortured. He looks angry. I don’t think these are sadistic people. They probably killed Paul Mori, but I don’t think they’re professional killers. I think they’re just desperate for their money. They were able to capture Connie and Vinnie, but they screwed up twice trying to get you.”

“Amateurs,” I said.

“Yes, but dangerous amateurs. And determined. You don’t want to underestimate them. You can’t see much of the room because the photo is so dark. Is there anything about it that looks familiar to you?”

“No.”

“Marcus Smulet is a long-distance truck driver who somehow managed to acquire eleven million dollars. I’m guessing he didn’t do it by hauling toaster ovens.”

“Maybe he was hauling humans.”

“Or drugs, or both.”

“What about his ex-wife? Does he have kids?”

“No kids. The ex-wife lives in White Horse. Do you want to go for a ride?”

“Sure.”

Illustration by Ryan Johnson

Chapter Nineteen

Ranger drove his Porsche Cayenne out of the Rangeman garage.

He cut across town to Route 29, and from there it was a straight shot to White Horse. Ranger isn’t usually a music guy when he drives. He wears an earbud and talks to the control room when necessary. Today there was minimal conversation, and he was in the zone.

When we got to White Horse, Ranger left Route 29 and followed the GPS directions to Susan Smulet’s house. She was now Susan Crane and she lived in a white Cape Cod–style house with blue shutters and a blue door. It was in a pleasant neighborhood filled with basketball hoops in driveways and toddler Big Wheel bikes on front lawns. Ranger parked in front of the Crane house. We walked to the door and rang the bell.

A pretty, brown-haired, brown-eyed woman in her late thirties to early forties answered.

“We’re looking for Susan Crane,” I said.

“That’s me.”

“You were married to Marcus Smulet?”

“Yes. What’s this about?”

“We’re looking for him,” I said. “We just have a few questions. We thought you might be able to help us.”

She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. “It’s been a long time. Why are you looking for him?”

“We know about some money that might belong to him.”

“That sounds like Marcus. He was always scheming to get money.”

“Do you know where we might locate him?”

“Sorry. I haven’t seen him in a long time. We were only married for two years. Marcus and his brother had this idea to build a trucking company. His brother, Luther, would live in El Paso and Marcus would live in Trenton and they’d haul all sorts of things from Mexico to the Northeast. It sounded good on paper but the reality of it was that Marcus was never home. And when he was on the road he would fool around. So, I divorced him.” She turned and looked at her closed door. “I have a really nice family now. A good husband and two kids. They don’t know a lot about Marcus. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Understood,” I said. “Thank you for sharing this with us.”

“The plot thickens,” I said to Ranger when we were back in the Porsche.

He called his office and asked them to get information on Luther Smulet.

Ranger has four spaces reserved for him in the Rangeman garage. One space is set aside for his Porsche 911 Turbo S. This was currently empty. His badass pickup occupies another. The third space is for the Cayenne. The fourth space doesn’t have a car assigned to it, so this is where I’d parked my Whatever. The Whatever looked ridiculous.

“I might have to give you a car,” Ranger said.

Add that to the plus side of the marriage list, I thought. A shiny new car and Ella. Not that Ranger needed anything more than himself. If Ranger were penniless and homeless, he would still be totally desirable.

We went to his fifth-floor office, and he pulled up the information on Luther Smulet. Two years older than Marcus. Divorced. Two kids. His wife had custody and lived in Austin. Luther had a house in El Paso. Also, a house in Chihuahua, Mexico. Sole proprietor of Acut Trucking. Owned two tractor trailers. One purchased ten years ago. The second purchased five years ago.

“Let’s see if Luther is in El Paso or Chihuahua,” Ranger said. Ranger called someone in his control room and told him to find Luther. He disconnected from the control room and his phone buzzed with a text message.

“It’s Ella,” Ranger said. “She’s asking if you’re staying for dinner. Do you have other plans?”

“No plans.”

Yes, she’s staying, Ranger texted back. We’ll eat in the conference room. He stood at his desk and disconnected his MacBook Pro. “There’s more room in the conference room,” he said. “I want to look at a map.”

We moved to the conference room. Ranger opened his MacBook and brought a map up on the large monitor that was mounted on the wall.

“This is a section of Trenton that includes Smulet’s house on Karnery Street, Paul Mori’s dry-cleaning business, and Pino’s,” Ranger said, moving a pointer around on the map, depositing a red X on each location. “They’re relatively close to each other. A long walk or a short drive.”

He went from a street map to a satellite view.

“Are we looking for something in particular?” I asked.

“We’re looking for a place to park an eighteen-wheeler. And we’re looking for a building that would lend itself to hanging a man on a hook.”

“I can’t see an eighteen-wheeler parked anywhere in the Karnery Street neighborhood,” I said. “Driveways aren’t long enough to accommodate one and residents wouldn’t tolerate one on the street. There are several blocks around Mori Dry Cleaning that have alleys behind them. In theory you might be able to park a tractor trailer in one of those alleys, but they’re only one lane, so a big truck would shut down the alley. And you couldn’t leave it there on garbage day.”

“I sent Manuel out to scout the area and he came back with the same conclusions, but I thought it was worth seeing it on satellite with you. You already know those streets.”

“That whole area is residential with mom-and-pop businesses sprinkled in with the houses. I don’t see a big rig getting parked there. And I don’t know of any buildings with concrete walls and meat hooks suspended from the ceiling. There are a couple butcher shops that might have meat hooks, but they wouldn’t have concrete walls. If you drive past Pino’s and cross Broad there are some more commercial buildings. There’s an auto body repair shop with a parking lot surrounded by chain link. You might be able to make arrangements to park a truck there. I’m not super familiar with the other businesses.”

Ella knocked and came into the room with a serving cart. She set out placemats, linen napkins, silverware, water glasses, and wineglasses at the end of the table. She added a large bottle of water and a bottle of red wine.

“We have New Zealand lamb loin, wild rice, and mixed fresh vegetables tonight,” she said. “I brought a fruit plate for dessert, but we also have fruit sorbet.”

She set the plates of food on the table, removed the domes, and set the domes on the cart.

“Would you like anything else?” she asked.

“No, this is perfect,” Ranger said. “Thank you.”

Ella rolled the cart to the far end of the room and left.

The silverware didn’t have smudges of peanut butter. The white linen napkins had been ironed. The glasses were elegant and stemmed and didn’t have water stains. The plates of food looked like they came from a three-star Michelin restaurant. I’ve never eaten at a three-star restaurant, but I’ve seen pictures.

“This is why I might consider marrying you,” I said.

Ranger reached for the bottle of wine. “I can give you some other reasons if you want to spend the night.”

“Not tonight,” I said. “I don’t want to get overwhelmed with reasons. And I should stick to water. I have to drive home.”

“I have two men riding your bumper twenty-four/seven. You can leave your car here and go with them.”

“What about using me as bait to catch the kidnappers?”

“That ship sailed. I’m just trying to keep you alive and unharmed until we find them.”

“What about Vinnie?”

“I’m having a hard time getting emotional about Vinnie.”

I held out my wineglass. “Fill it up.”

I ate every crumb on my plate and was tempted to lick it clean, but I didn’t want to be gross in front of Ranger. I drank two glasses of wine and was feeling incredibly mellow and moderately sexy. Okay, I’m going to be honest. I was feeling moderately mellow and incredibly sexy. Let’s face it, the man was more delicious than the lamb, and the lamb had been freaking amazing.

Ranger finished eating and pushed back from the table. “I want to check with control to see if they have any information on Luther Smulet.”

I poured myself half a glass of wine and followed him back to our seats at the computer.

He went online and dialed into his system. He found what he was looking for and scanned through the report.

“We’re making progress, babe,” Ranger said. “Luther left El Paso three weeks ago, driving one of the trucks to Trenton. He hasn’t returned.”

“How do you get information like this so fast?”

“Luck. Michael Ortega is my IT specialist. He has relatives in El Paso.”

A photo of Luther Smulet appeared on the screen.

“He resembles his brother,” I said. “Same chunky build. He could easily be the second kidnapper.”

“Luther has a tattoo on his neck. It doesn’t show in this picture, but the intel report lists it.”

“What sort of tattoo?”

“Scorpion.”

“Ugh.”

I looked at my glass. It was empty. Someone drank my wine. I suppose it was me.

“Now what?” I asked Ranger.

“We keep looking for the rig. And we watch for the Smulet brothers. We know they’re here.”

“Yes,” I said, resting my head on the table, closing my eyes. “But what about Stephanie?”

Ranger turned in his chair and looked at me. “Babe, how much wine have you had?”

“Not even four glasses.”

“Two is your limit. You’re a lightweight.”

“Yes, but I was having such a good time with the lamb and the fruit and also, you’re looking very sexy.”

Even as I was saying this, I knew the tragic truth. Two glasses of wine and I’m fun Stephanie. More than two and I’m a total snoozer.

Chapter Twenty

I woke up in luxury. Ranger’s bed. The room was dark and cool.

The linens held the faint scent of Bulgari Green shower gel. There was no Ranger next to me. I found the bedside clock and checked the time. Seven o’clock. Practically the middle of the day for Ranger. I put the bedside light on and looked at myself under the covers. I was wearing my panties and a Rangeman T-shirt. Crap. I took a shower using Ranger’s shower gel and dried myself off with one of his fluffy towels. When I returned to the bedroom the bed had been made and my clothes were laid out for me. They were clean and folded and Ella had added new lingerie.

I got dressed and went to the kitchen. Breakfast was waiting for me on the small dining table. Fresh fruit, yogurt, Ella’s house-made granola, smoked salmon with capers, a whole wheat bagel, and a carafe of coffee. I knew it was my breakfast and not Ranger’s because a single luscious chocolate doughnut had been added to the mix. Ella probably had to smuggle it into the building.

I finished eating, hung my messenger bag on my shoulder, and went in search of Ranger. I found him studying a blueprint in his fifth-floor office.

“I’m heading out,” I said. “Thank Ella for a wonderful breakfast.” I looked at the blueprint. “Is this a new account?”

“Yes. An office building going up in Hamilton Township.”

“About last night,” I said. “I’m fuzzy on the details. I woke up in your bed, and I was wearing a Rangeman T-shirt.”

“You had three-plus glasses of wine and crashed.”

“I passed out?”

“No. You kept falling asleep. It seemed like a lot of effort to take you home, so I tucked you in here.”

“That’s sort of embarrassing. How did I get out of my clothes and into the Rangeman T-shirt?”

“It was a joint effort. I would have just rolled you into bed, but you had gravy on your T-shirt.”

I looked down at my T-shirt. No gravy. Ella was a laundry guru.

“Did we . . . you know?”

“Not even a little. Trust me, you would have remembered. Do you want to ride with my men today? Or do you want to drive yourself?”

“I’ll drive.”

I took the elevator to the garage and gave up a sigh when I looked at the cars in Ranger’s reserved spaces. No Whatever.

I called Ranger. “I’m in the garage, and my car isn’t here.”

“It ruined my color scheme. I replaced it with a Discovery Sport. The key is on the driver’s seat. You had a Superman gift bag in your Whatever car. Raymond put it in the Discovery.”

The Discovery was a great-looking car, and there was no doubt in my mind that it was equipped to report my every move to the control room. It probably had sensors in the steering wheel to take my pulse and alert Ranger if my heart rate went too high.

I drove out of the garage and went to the office. I cruised down the alley, stopped at the yellow bus, and realized the Discovery wasn’t going to fit in the Whatever’s parking space. I drove around the block and parked in front of the demolished office. I took my messenger bag and the Superman gift bag, and I picked my way along the narrow path that had been created to get to the back lot.

Lula and Connie were already in the bus. A new coffee machine and four coffee mugs had been placed on the kitchen counter. The essential box of doughnuts was on the table serving as Connie’s desk. Lula was dressed in sneakers and spandex camo fatigues.

“Sneakers?” I said to Lula.

“I got tired of walking around the block to get here and I’m not ruining my collection of fine footwear by trying to make my way along that half-assed path we got going over what used to be the office.”

“It’s a good look for you,” I said. “And I like your camo- colored hairstyle.”

“The thing is you gotta put it all together,” Lula said. “When you’re a fashionista like me, you have to be top to bottom. Like you can’t use a red thong with desert camo outerwear. That would be all wrong.”

“Are you wearing a camo thong?” I asked her.

“I decided to go with khaki on the thong. It’s a good accent piece, and it complements my skin tone, but it’s still in keeping with the overall theme.”

I put the Superman gift bag next to the doughnut box. “I saw Benji yesterday. He brought this as a new office gift, and he invited us to his grand opening tomorrow. He bought the comic book store and renamed it Benji Land.”

Lula pulled the comics out of the bag and shrieked when she saw Thor.

“It’s the Thor action figure!” she said. “It’s the exact one I wanted. It looks just like Thor in Ragnarok before he got his haircut. Don’t get me wrong, Thor is a hot god no matter if he’s got long or short hair, it’s just I prefer the long version. He’s got his mighty hammer with him too, and you can move his arms.” She set Thor on the couch next to her. “We’ve gotta go to Benji’s grand opening so I can thank him,” Lula said. “We’re all going, right?”

“Right,” I said.

“Right,” Connie said.

“How long is Harry going to be away?” I asked Connie.

“He’s supposed to be home on Wednesday.”

“Does he know about the office? About Vinnie?”

“He knows about the office. The insurance adjuster is supposed to look at the property today. I have the plans from when we rebuilt the office last time it got destroyed, so it should be easier this time. Harry hasn’t mentioned Vinnie, and I haven’t brought him up. I don’t know what to say about Vinnie.”

“About all you can say is that he’s missing,” Lula said. “Unless you want to add that he looks like a big bat hanging from a meat hook somewhere. Problem is that inspires conversations we got no answers for.”

My mom called. “It’s raining and I need some things at Giovichinni’s. Your father is out with the taxi and my car is in the shop. Something’s wrong with the starter.”

I looked out the window. Sure enough it was raining.

“Send me a list,” I said.

“I thought we’d have pot roast tonight for you and Joseph. Eddie, the butcher at Giovichinni’s, is holding a nice rump roast for me. And I know Joseph likes chocolate cake. I thought we’d have that for dessert.”

“Sounds great.”

I hung up and texted Morelli. Are we on for dinner at my parents’ house tonight?

Yes, he texted back. I’m on call but hopefully I won’t be needed.

“I have to make a deli run for my mom,” I said to Connie and Lula. “I’ll be back.”

“We’ll be here,” Lula said. “We’re just hanging out waiting to hear from kidnappers.”

I put the hood up on my sweatshirt and kept my head down walking through the rubble. I got to the sidewalk and had a moment of confusion when I couldn’t find my car. I realized my car was a new black Discovery, and I did a mental head slap. Duh.

I drove to Giovichinni’s, parked at the curb, and ran inside. I went straight to Eddie and got the rump roast.

“It’s a beauty,” he said. “I picked it out first thing this morning when your mom called. Are you still seeing that cop?”

“Joe Morelli? Yes.”

“Too bad. Come see me if it doesn’t work out.”

I assured him that he would be the first to know, and I started working my way through my mom’s list. What is it with butchers and me? It’s like I’m a butcher magnet.

I got everything on the list and wheeled my cart to the check-out. Mary Ann Giovichinni was working the register. She looked at me and then her attention shifted to the door.

“Oh crap,” Mary Ann said on a whisper.

It was Bella.

“Look at this,” Bella said, focusing her squinty eyes on me. “It’s the slut. You let the slut shop here?”

“Hello, Bella,” Mary Ann said. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m under house arrest,” Bella said, “but I snuck out. I need macaroni salad. My daughter-in-law knows nothing.”

“Tell Eddie and he’ll scoop some fresh for you.”

“You good girl,” Bella said. “I not give you the eye.”

“Holy hell,” Mary Ann said when Bella went to the back of the deli. “She scares the bejeezus out of me. She’s freaking creepy.”

I helped Mary Ann bag, and I rushed out of the store before Bella returned with her macaroni. I sat in the Discovery and I looked around. There were no other cars parked at the curb. Bella came out of the deli and opened an umbrella. She was going to walk home in the rain. Damn.

I rolled the window down and yelled at her. “Bella! Do you want a ride?”

She walked over to me and looked in. “You try to get on the good side of me?”

“Do you have a good side?” I asked her.

“Hah!” she said. “I let you give me a ride.”

It was a short trip and neither of us spoke. I stopped in front of her house, and she got out. “You a slut but you know to do the right thing,” she said.

+++

Grandma and my mom were at the kitchen table when I brought the groceries in. They were having coffee and crumb cake because that’s what you do in the Burg when it’s a rainy morning. I put the groceries away and joined them at the table.

“Bella was at Giovichinni’s when I was there,” I said. “She told Mary Ann that she was under house arrest, but she needed macaroni salad.”

“Sometimes I almost like her,” Grandma said.

I took a piece of crumb cake and smeared some butter on it. “The butcher at Giovichinni’s hit on me.”

“Eddie?” my mom said. “What did you tell him? Are you going out with him?”

“No,” I said. “I’m going out with Morelli.”

“You could do worse than Eddie,” my mom said. “I like Morelli, but he comes to dinner, and I don’t see a ring on your finger.”

“Do you want me to marry Eddie?”

“I want you to marry somebody,” my mom said. “How about Ranger?” I said.

My mom froze with her coffee cup halfway to her mouth and she made the sign of the cross. Grandma choked on a piece of crumb cake.

“Did he ask you to marry him?” my mom finally said.

“No,” I said. “It was a hypothetical question.”

“Oh, well, goodness,” my mom said. “Okay then.”

“What’s wrong with Ranger?” I asked her.

“I don’t know exactly,” my mom said. “He’s very mysterious. He feels dangerous.”

“He’s hot,” Grandma said. “I’d marry him in a heartbeat.”

I couldn’t argue with either of them.

“I’m looking for someone who lives on Karnery Street,” I said. “His name is Marcus Smulet.”

“I don’t know anybody named Smulet,” Grandma said, “but Grace Lucarello lives on Karnery Street. She’s lived there forever. What’s this Marcus guy done?”

“He might be associated with the kidnapping,” I said. “He’s more of a person of interest right now than a suspect.”

“I can ask Grace if she knows him. Karnery Street isn’t that big. It’s only a couple blocks.”

“Call her and ask if we can come over. I want to ride by Smulet’s house anyway.”

Ten minutes later we were in the Discovery, heading for Karnery Street with Rangeman following us.

“This is a beauty of a car,” Grandma said. “I guess I know where you got it. I know your mother thinks Ranger is dangerous, but there’s lots of good things to say about him, too. Did you ever find out where he gets all his new cars?”

“No. That’s one of the mysteries of Ranger.” “Probably better that way,” Grandma said.

A while ago, Ranger had said they were part of a business arrangement. I thought that was sufficiently vague to still qualify as a mystery.

I did a slow pass by Smulet’s house first. No action there. No lights on. No car in the driveway. Grace lived on the corner, three houses away from Smulet. Lights were on and a VW Taos was in the driveway.

“Grace’s husband passed a couple years ago,” Grandma said. “She’s fixed pretty good, so she was able to keep her house, but she still watches what she spends. She only plays two cards at bingo.”

Grace came to the door before we rang the bell. “Come in,” she said. “Such a rainy day. Do you want tea?”

“Tea would be wonderful,” Grandma said.

I placed Grace as in her seventies. She was wearing slacks and sneakers and a lightweight flannel shirt. Her hair was gray and cut short. Her house was stuffed with furniture. We followed her into the kitchen, and Grandma and I sat at the kitchen table while Grace put the kettle on.

“It’s interesting that you want to know about Marcus Smulet,” Grace said. “Nobody knows what to make of him. Even his next-door neighbors don’t really know him. He lives alone mostly. His brother comes to visit sometimes. The brother stays for a couple days and leaves. Word is that they’re both truck drivers and they’re on the road all the time. A couple times there was a gigantic truck parked in front of the Smulet house. Nobody raised a fuss because the truck never stayed long.”

“Have you seen him lately?” I asked.

She brought three mugs of tea to the table and sat with us. “No,” she said, “but that’s not unusual. He’s a real loner.”

“Does he have a girlfriend?” Grandma asked.

“Not that I know about.” Grace leaned forward over the table and lowered her voice. “Why do you want to know about Marcus? I know you’re a bounty hunter. Is he a fugitive? Is there a reward on his head?”

“No,” I said. “Nothing like that.”

Grandma leaned forward and lowered her voice like Grace. “He’s a person of interest. We can’t say more. It’s very hush-hush.”

Grace looked overjoyed to hear this. “I knew it!” she said. “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word to anyone.”

We finished our tea and said goodbye to Grace. She promised to keep an eye out for Marcus and his brother and call us if she saw anything.

“Do you think she’ll keep this quiet?” I asked Grandma when we were in the car.

“Not a chance,” Grandma said.

I took Grandma home and drove to the office. The insurance adjuster was poking around in the debris when I parked at the curb. It was raining buckets and he was holding a big black umbrella in one hand and a cell phone in the other. It looked like he was taking photos and videos with his cell phone. I didn’t want to disturb him, so I parked and walked around the block.

Connie’s car was parked behind the bus, and Lula and Connie were next to it, standing under a single umbrella. Connie was holding her tote and a black garbage bag. Lula was holding her huge purse and Thor.

“It’s raining inside the bus,” Connie said to me. “We moved everything we could to the dry side, and we’re closing up shop. I’m going to work from home. I’ll call you if I hear from the kidnappers.”

“Ditto,” Lula said. “Me and Thor are going home, too. I promised him we could watch Aquaman.”

I was soaked by the time I got back to Hamilton Avenue. I didn’t want to ruin the seats on Ranger’s Discovery, so I hitched a ride with the Rangemen. They dropped me at the back door to my building. I ran inside and dripped all the way to my apartment.

I kicked my shoes off in the kitchen and my phone buzzed. It was a text and a photo forwarded from Connie. This is just the beginning, the text said. The photo was a bloody hand missing two fingernails. I went light-headed and threw up in the sink. Thank heaven for garbage disposals.

+++

I felt better after a shower. There was still anxiety about Vinnie but at least my stomach wasn’t churning. I got dressed in a soft blue V-neck sweater and my nicest jeans. I dried my hair, swiped some mascara on my lashes, and applied lip gloss. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. “It’s important to give the illusion of normalcy,” I said to reflected Stephanie. “That’s how you keep going when things are tragic.” I had two black eyes and I was finding it hard to smile. I couldn’t do anything about the eyes, but I could make more of an effort at smiling. If I allowed the horror of Vinnie’s nails to overwhelm me, I would be useless at tracking down the kidnappers.

I grabbed my messenger bag and a sweatshirt, went downstairs, and crossed the small lobby to the back door. The Rangeman SUV drove up to the building when I stepped out. I asked to be taken back to the Discovery and fifteen minutes later I was in my car and on my way to my parents’ house. The rain had cut down to a misty drizzle. Hopefully the bus was drying out. I arrived ahead of Morelli. I said hello to my dad but I’m not sure he heard me. He was in front of the TV, slumped in his chair, eyes closed. The dining room table was set and the smell of burned rump roast was overwhelming. That was my mom’s secret. Cremate the rump to get super-dark gravy. Some people might have thought the gravy tasted a tad burned, but we were Plums and we liked it that way.

“Can I help?” I asked.

“Drain the potatoes,” my mom said. “I’m ready to mash them.”

I took the huge pot to the sink, poured the potatoes and boiling water into the colander, and returned the potatoes to the pot. When I stepped back my face was bathed in steam and my hair had frizzed. My mom took over adding milk and butter. Lots of butter.

I heard Morelli at the door and went to greet him. He gave me a quick kiss and stepped back to take a look at me.

“Steam bath?”

“Potatoes,” I said.

The six o’clock news came on and my dad woke up and stood. “Where’s dinner?”

“It’s on the table,” my mother said, setting the carved pot roast in front of his seat.

Grandma brought the potatoes and gravy. The vegetables and wine followed. Dinner was a perfectly orchestrated event that had occurred every night for as long as I could remember. Grandma was a relatively new addition, and my sister, Valerie, had her own family meals now in her own house, but the basic ritual here was still the same. It was both comforting and disturbing.

“What did you do today?” Grandma asked Morelli. “Did you arrest a killer?”

“No,” Morelli said. “I almost never arrest killers. In this town they’re usually killed by other killers before I get to them.”

“The circle of life,” Grandma said.

Everyone thought about that for a moment. The moment was broken by my dad yelling for gravy.

“Jeez Louise,” he said. “Pass the gravy. My meat’s getting cold.”

Morelli poured a glass of wine for himself and one for me. I took a sip and put it back on the table. Best not to guzzle wine two days in a row.

“How about an autopsy?” Grandma asked. “Have you seen any of them lately? I’d like to see an autopsy. Especially the part where they weigh the brain. It’s a shame you have to be dead before you can find out how much your brain weighs.”

My mom chugged half her Big Gulp of iced tea, which we all knew to be whiskey. I couldn’t blame her.

“How’s your knitting going?” I asked my mom.

“I started a new skein today,” she said. “Purple.”

“I bet it’s pretty.”

“It’s not as vibrant as I hoped it would be,” she said. “It knits out to be more lavender.”

I didn’t know where to go from here. I’d just made my best stab at polite conversation, and now I had nothing. It was easier eating with Rex. I ate over the sink, and he didn’t expect a lot from me.

“How’s Bob?” Grandma asked Morelli.

“He’s good,” Morelli said. “He’s out in the car. I thought Stephanie and I could take him for a walk after dinner if it stops raining.”

“Are you sure he’s okay in the car?” Grandma asked. “I thought you weren’t supposed to leave kids and dogs in the car.”

“The windows are cracked and the temperature is okay,” Morelli said. “He’s comfortable.”

“You should bring him in,” Grandma said. “I’d like to see him.

He would make it a party. I could give him a bowl of water.”

My dad didn’t say anything. He was shoveling in mashed potatoes and gravy. My mom raised her glass and smiled. “To Bob,” she said.

“It’s okay with me,” I said.

Morelli left the table and came back with Bob. Bob was beside himself, doing his happy dance. Bob was a people dog. Bob made his way around the table, sniffing everyone. He got to my dad, gave him a sniff, and snatched two slabs of rump roast off his plate.

“Hey!” my dad said to Bob. “That’s rude. What the hell!” He looked over at Morelli. “Don’t you feed this dog?”

My mom and Grandma were laughing, and I was having a hard time keeping a straight face. Morelli looked conflicted between thinking Bob was cute and being completely mortified.

“Sorry,” he said to my dad. “I should have kept him on the leash. Bad, Bob!” Morelli said to Bob.

Bob came over and settled down between Morelli and me. “Well, don’t everyone just sit there like a bunch of dopes,” my father said. “Someone pass me the meat.”

My mom brought the chocolate cake to the table and Morelli’s phone buzzed.

He looked at the number and stood. “I have to take this,” he said, moving into the living room. He returned a couple minutes later and sat down. “I need to go to work but I’m not leaving until I have cake.”

“Is it someone dead?” Grandma asked.

“I’ll know when I get there,” Morelli said.

He finished his cake and left. I stayed to have a second piece. Bob didn’t get any because dogs shouldn’t eat chocolate.

I helped clear the table and put the food away, and Bob positioned himself in the kitchen. Grandma hand-fed him chunks of rump roast and gave him a bowl of vanilla ice cream since he couldn’t have cake.

It had stopped raining, so I clipped the leash on Bob, and Grandma and I took him for a walk. The Rangeman SUV crept along behind us.

“I feel like a movie star,” Grandma said. “They have bodyguards following them everywhere just like this.”

I felt like an idiot. I felt conspicuous. When the walk was done, I collected my bag of leftovers, including half the chocolate cake, loaded Bob into the Discovery, and went home to my apartment. I texted Morelli that Bob and the cake were with me. Morelli texted back that he was going to be late. Save him some cake.

From GOING ROGUE by Janet Evanovich. Copyright © 2022 by Evanovich, Inc. Reprinted by permission of Atria Books, an Imprint of Simon & Schuster, LLC.