'How late?'
'Monday or Tuesday.'
'Where are you?' Morelli wanted to know.
'I can't tell you that,' I said.
'Goddamn it, you're with Ranger, aren't you? I should have known. He's up to his armpits in murder and kidnapping, and he's going to drag you into it with him.'
Ranger reached over, grabbed my phone, and shut it down.
'Hey!' I said. 'That was Morelli.'
'If you stay on too long it can be traced down. I'm sure he understands.'
'Yeah, he understands. If he knew where we were you'd be seeing his Kojak light in your rearview mirror.'
'Then I'm glad he doesn't know where we are because I wouldn't want to have to square off with Morelli. It wouldn't end well for either of us.'
We moved onto I-95 south, and I tightened my seat belt. Driving out of DC into northern Virginia is like NASCAR on a flat straight track, racing bumper-to-bumper six wide, twenty miles deep. And attached to that is another identical race going six wide in the opposite direction. Two-story-high sound barriers rise out of the breakdown lanes, and form a cement canyon filled with wall-to-wall noise and insanity. We hurtled forward to the appropriate exit, catapulted ourselves down the chute, and peeled off toward Springfield.
Ranger pulled onto the shoulder and reprogrammed the GPS system.
'Lucky for you, you look good in a T-shirt,' Ranger said.
'Lucky for you I don't have a gun on me.'
Ranger turned to me. His voice was low and even, but there was a whisper of incredulous disbelief. 'You're not carrying a gun?'
'Didn't seem necessary for us both to have one.'
Stephanie Plum 12 - Twelve Sharp
Nine
It was a little after five o'clock when we drove past the Cruz house. We were in a development of middle-income homes, mostly little ranches sitting on small plots of land. Every third house was the same. From the maturity of trees and shrubs, I'd have guessed the houses were maybe ten years old.
The Cruz house was pale yellow with white trim and a teal-green front door. The landscaping was economy grade but neat. There were several cars in the driveway and two at the curb. I imagined friends and relatives were sharing the Cruz's grief over their daughter.
Ranger drove two blocks over and parked. We were in front of a small public access to a bike path that wound through a narrow greenbelt behind the houses.
'I'm going to wait here,' he said. 'You take the car and go do your thing.'
'Are you sure you want to give me the car after making sexist remarks about my mechanical skills? I might not come back for you.'
'I'd find you,' Ranger said. He took my hand, kissed the palm, and got out of the car.
I exchanged seats, put the car in gear, and drove back to the Cruzes'. I parked at the curb and blew out a sigh. I was going to feel like a real shit for intruding at a time like this. I set off for the house, and just as I got to the porch two young women came out to have a cigarette. They lit up, took a deep drag, and sat down on the step to enjoy the rest in comfort.
I extended my hand. 'Stephanie Plum,' I s
aid. 'Were you friends with Carmen?'
They both nodded.
'I'm Sasha,' one said.
'Lorraine.'