Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum #25)(34)

“The worst part is now that it might not be aliens, we don’t know what’s happening to these people,” Lula said. “I don’t even want to think about it. They could be . . . you know.”

“Dead,” Raymond said. “I fear someone is doing a very bad thing.”

I went to the back door and stood next to Ranger. His men were systematically inching along the blacktopped parking area next to the deli, looking for clues.

“Did you find anything?” I asked him.

“No. The cameras scan to the dry cleaner’s dumpster. Hal walked past the dumpster and out of camera range. He obviously thought the situation was benign. He didn’t have his gun drawn. He didn’t look concerned. We haven’t found any signs of struggle. No blood. No torn clothing.”

“Have you seen the latest medical report on Vinnie?”

“The one that suggested he might have been shot with a tranq dart? Yes, I have that report. It would explain the lack of evidence showing there was a struggle.”

“What about Hal’s shoe?”

“We haven’t touched the shoe. CSI will test the shoe, but I’d be surprised if they find anything. Shoes from previous victims haven’t been helpful.”

I told him about my conversation with Wulf.

“I heard he was in town,” Ranger said. “Hard to believe he’s investigating the disappearances. I’d be more inclined to believe he’s responsible for them.”

“Where do you go from here?”

“I use my resources to find the missing people. And I go proactive.”

“What does that mean?” I asked him. “How can you go proactive?”

“I can take Hal’s place.”

“Omigod. You’re going to work here, making sandwiches?” Ranger backed me into the wall and leaned into me. “You think I can’t make sandwiches?”

“I’ve never seen you make a sandwich.”

“You’ve seen me do other things. Have you ever seen me do anything badly?”

He had the hint of a smile curling at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes were dark. This wasn’t a display of ego. This was foreplay, and it went straight to my doodah. I had a rush of heat erupt in my chest and head south. I’d been intimate with Ranger, and it wasn’t an experience easily forgotten. It wasn’t an experience any woman would want to forget.

“Who’s going to run Rangeman if you’re in the deli full-time?”

“I can run Rangeman off-site.”

“Hal had other responsibilities besides making sandwiches.”

“Hal was here to keep you safe,” Ranger said.

“And now you’re going to keep me safe?”

“Full-time.”

“Morelli isn’t going to like this.”

“I’ll hand you over to him when we close at night, and I’ll expect you back in the morning. If you aren’t with Morelli, you’re with me.”

Truth is, I didn’t mind the arrangement. I wasn’t exactly Rambo. And I didn’t want to be the next victim with one shoe on and one shoe off.

Two Trenton PD patrol cars arrived five minutes after Ranger made the phone call to report Hal missing. Jimmy Krut showed up ten minutes later. Morelli was a couple minutes behind Krut. I’d made the call to Morelli.

I stayed close to the building, in front of the open back door. Morelli and Ranger were standing toe to toe beyond the dumpster. Morelli was hands on hips, his cop face firmly in place. Focused. Alpha dog posture. Ranger had his back to me. His arms were relaxed at his side, but his stance was solid, shoulders back from years in the military. Ranger was alpha dog times two. There was professional respect on both sides. And there was personal distrust simmering below the surface.

Morelli cut his eyes to me, his gaze held for a couple beats, and his attention returned to Ranger. They were talking about me. Their intentions were probably good, but I felt like I was being auctioned off on eBay.

“Hey!” I yelled. “Do you want to include me in this conversation?”

“No,” Morelli said.

I couldn’t see Ranger’s face, but I knew that got a smile from him. I did a massive eye roll, called them idiots, and retreated into the deli, slamming the door behind me.

“You look like you need pie,” Lula said.

I looked around the room. It was empty.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“Dalia quit. She said if anyone wants to talk to her they can kiss her ass and good luck finding her. She said she was going to get into her car and start driving west and not stop until she hit the Pacific Ocean. Raymond and Stretch went home. They said unless you were gonna start paying overtime they weren’t staying late no more.”

“What kind of pie do we have?”

“Apple, coconut custard, lemon meringue but I wouldn’t recommend it, and chocolate pudding pie.”

“What’s wrong with the lemon meringue?”

“It smells like cat pee,” Lula said.

I went to the fridge and pulled out a chocolate pudding pie and extra whipped cream.

“Bring two forks,” Lula said.

We dug into the pie, and I looked over at Lula.

“What’s going on here? What’s the motive? What’s with the shoe?”