14 Fearless Fourteen (8 page)

Ranger walked me to my car in the parking lot. It was a little
after midnight and Brenda was in her room, with Hal standing
guard.

“That had to be the longest night in the history of the world,”
Ranger said.

“I was captured by Colombian rebels and tortured for three days,
and it was better than that dinner.” He brushed feathers off his
sleeve. “I don't know whether to have this cleaned or just throw it
away.”

“You look like you wrestled a big chicken.”

He looked at my jacket and skirt. “Why aren't you covered with
feathers?”

“I stayed away from Brenda.”

“I didn't have that luxury,” Ranger said.

“Yeah, I noticed. She was all over you.”

He took his jacket off in an effort to distance himself from the
feathers, but he had feathers stuck to his shirt. “I don't usually
have that problem. Most women are afraid of me.”

“Maybe she's not smart enough to be afraid of
you.”

“More likely, she knows I'm no match for her,” Ranger
said.

Ranger had offered the use of his bed, but I didn't think that
was a good idea. I'd checked on Zook, and he was with my parents,
sleeping in my old bedroom. I had my own apartment, but that held
little appeal tonight. Truth is, I missed Morelli. I cruised by his
house and the porch light was on, so I parked and went to the door.
Locked. I tried my key. Wouldn't work. He'd changed the locks. That
was a relief. I rang the bell and waited. I heard the dog feet
first, clattering down the wood stairs. Moments later, Morelli
opened the door. He was in socks and jeans and a T-shirt. His eyes
were soft and sleepy and his hair was more unruly than
usual.

“I was hoping you'd come back tonight,” he said. “I tried to
wait up, but I fell asleep halfway through
Letterman.”

He pulled me into the foyer and kissed me. “Did they feed you at
the dinner? Do you need something to eat?”

“I'm starving.”

“Me, too. I want French toast.”

Morelli got the fry pan out and started it heating while I
whipped eggs and soaked the bread. We sat at his kitchen table, and
between the three of us, we went through almost a loaf of bread and
a bottle of fake maple syrup.

I pushed back in my chair. “I see you've had your locks
changed.”

“Probably I should have done it sooner. I never bothered when I
moved into the house. For all I know, Rose could have given keys
out to half the Burg.”

“So what was the deal with Bob in the backyard
today?”

“I don't know,” Morelli said, “but I'm not happy. I don't like
people breaking into my house, and I especially don't like them
messing with my dog. I went all through the house, and I couldn't
see where anything was taken. It occurred to me that someone might
have been dropping off rather than picking up, so I had a crew go
through looking for bombs, drugs, and bugs. Nothing was
found.”

“I wish I could tell you more about the guy last night, but he
caught me by surprise, and he was moving fast.”

“Do you remember hearing a car take off?”

“No. My heart was beating so hard all I could hear was my own
blood pressure. What's happening with Loretta and
Zook?”

“I thought it was best to leave Zook with your parents. Loretta
is still in jail.”

“Have you had a chance to talk to her about the garage
event?”

“No. Too many people listening. No privacy in jail. I'll wait
until she's out.”

Okay, I knew I shouldn't be concerned. To begin with, Morelli
had way too much testosterone as a kid, but he wasn't really a bad
person. And besides that, he's an amazing guy now. He's smart and
responsible and honorable and loving.

And it wouldn't matter if he had a son. It would feel weird, but
it wouldn't matter. Having thought through all this, I was still a
little freaked out.

“So what's your take on it?” I asked him, morbid curiosity
winning out over trust and sensitivity. “Do you think it's possible
that you're Zook's father?”

“I guess anything is possible, considering my hit-and-run
lifestyle back then,” Morelli said, “but I can't see me doing it
with Loretta. And I think Loretta would have come to me for help by
now. Besides, I always used condoms. Even in high
school.”

“You didn't with me.”

Morelli grinned. “You were different.”

“We were lucky I didn't get pregnant.”

“Maybe,” Morelli said. “Maybe not. If you'd gotten pregnant,
we'd be married now. It would all have been much more
simple.”

Morelli was gone when I woke up. Bob was in bed with me, and a
note was attached to his collar.

Feed Bob and walk him and remember to take a BLUE PLASTIC BAG.
Mr. GORVICH (THE GROUCH NEXT DOOR) IS COMPLAINING. LOVE YOU,
JOE.

PS -MAKE SURE ZOOK GETS TO SCHOOL.

PPS-THERE'S A NEW HOUSE KEY FOR YOU ON THE KITCHEN
TABLE.

I stumbled into the bathroom, took a shower, and dressed for the
day as a Rangeman employee. I dragged Bob out of bed, down to the
kitchen, and fed him.

Then I dragged him outside to go for a walk. I ignored Morelli's
instructions and let Bob poop to his heart's content on everyone's
lawns. I know it was irresponsible of me, but I wasn't up to
bagging poop first thing in the morning.

I dropped my new house key into my purse and drove the short
distance to my parents' house.

My mother's house always smells wonderful. Apple pie, roast
turkey with stuffing, chocolate chip cookies, mari-nara sauce.
Never air freshener. Air freshener was for sissies and slackards.
My mother's house announced the day's menu. This morning, it was
bacon and coffee and home fries with onion and green
pepper.

Everyone was at the kitchen table when I walked in. My mother
was manning the stove, frying the potatoes. My grandmother was at
the table with Zook. Zook was dressed for school in his usual
Gothic black getup. Grandma was a carbon copy, except for the
piercings. Black jeans, black boots, black T-shirt with warrior
written in gold-and-red flames across her chest. Big chunky chain
belt and a wooden cross on a chain around her neck. She looked like
the Grandma from Hell.

“Nice outfit,” I said to her. “What's the
occasion?”

“I'm going online as soon as I'm done with breakfast,” she said.
“I'm gonna lay waste to the griefer.”

I looked over at my mother and she made a gesture like she was
going to hang herself.

“What's a griefer?” I asked. I'd heard Zook use the term, but I
didn't actually know what it meant. I also knew Moondog was a
griefer, but I didn't know what a Moondog was,
either.

“A griefer's a snert,” Grandma said. “A cheese player. A
twink.”

I nodded. “That makes it all clear.”

“A cyberbully,” Zook said. “I got your grandmother playing
Minionjire last night, and Moondog terminated your grandma's PC.
That's a player character. Had him take a dirt nap. Man, your
grandma was really pissed.”

My mother clanked the fry pan against the burner, and we all
jumped.

“Excuse me,” Zook said. “I meant she was... angry. Anyway, she
was able to regen, and now she's rolling.”

“Yeah,” Grandma said. “I'm a newbie, so my PC runs at a pretty
low level, but I've got some iiberelves camping for me. They're
evil, but they're bitchin'.”

“Where'd you get the clothes?” I asked her.

“Harriet Gotler took me shopping after we paid our respects to
Warren Kruzi. He had an early viewing. And I'm not Grandma no
more,” she said. “I'm Scorch.”

“Scorch?”

“Yep, 'cause I'm hot. Get it? Scorch.”

My mother was eyeing the cabinet alongside the stove where she
kept the liquor.

“It's sort of early in the day,” I told her.

She blew out a sigh and shook the potato pan. She brought it to
the table and dumped the home fries into a bowl. She had eggs going
in another fry pan, and she divided them up on everyone's
plates.

My stomach was filled with eggs and potatoes, Zook was at
school, and I wasn't scheduled to meet with Ranger until eleven. I
had a stack of skips to find, but nothing recent and nothing that
interested me. For lack of something better to do, I stopped at the
office.

Lula was on the couch, wading through a stack of bride
magazines, marking pages with little red sticky
tabs.

I looked over at Connie, and Connie did an eye
roll.

“I saw that,” Lula said. “Don't you do an eye roll about me. I
gotta consider my options. I gotta keep an open mind. Tank could be
real disappointed if he don't see me in a long white dress. And
what about his mama? She could be expecting a wrist corsage. I
gotta consider flowers. I don't want to get started on the wrong
foot with his mama.”

It was hard to imagine Tank having a mama. Much less one who
would wear a wrist corsage.

“You said you didn't want a big wedding,” I said to
Lula.

“Yeah, but looking at the cake got the ball
rolling.”

“Have you talked to Tank about any of this?”

“No. I didn't see him last night. He called up and said he had
one of them stomach viruses.”

“Sometimes men don't like elaborate weddings,” I said to Lula.
Especially when they don't want to get married.

“That better not be Tank,” Lula said, “on account of I'm
starting to get into this wedding shit. And anyways, after all the
things I do for him, the least he could do is marry me in a church
and all.”

“You do lots of things for Tank?”

“Well, I might in the future,” Lula said.

My mother's ring tone went off on my cell phone.

“There's a strange man here, and he's looking for you,” my
mother said. “I told him you weren't here, but he won't go
away.”

“Does he have white hair and big black glasses?”

“Yes.”

“I'll be right there.”

“Me, too,” Lula said. “Where we going? Who has white hair and
glasses?”

There were three cars lined up at the curb in front of my
parents' house. The white Taurus was one of them.

“I never seen a real stalker before,” Lula said. “I'm looking
forward to this.”

I parked in the driveway and slid from behind the wheel. “Let me
do the talking. I don't want to make a big deal over this. And I
especially don't want to freak my mother out.”

“Sure,” Lula said. “I understand that. My lips are
sealed.”

“And don't shoot him or gas him or fry his hair with your stun
gun.”

“You got a lot of rules,” Lula said.

“He's harmless.”

“That's what those stalkers want you to believe, and then
wham-they get naked pictures of you and put them on the
Internet.”

“You have personal experience?”

“No, but I heard. Well, okay, maybe a little experience. But not
with a stalker.”

My mother was at the door waiting for me. “How do you attract
these strange men?” my mother asked. “They're never
normal.”

“He's a stalker,” Lula said. “He might even be
dangerous.”

I turned and looked at Lula. “What about the sealed
lips?”

“I forgot. I got carried away.”

“He's confused,” I said to my mother. “I just need to talk to
him. Where is he?”

“He's in the kitchen. I have a full house today. Your
grandmother is in the dining room with Betty Greenblat and Ruth
Szuch. They're all insane. They each have a computer, and they're
playing that game. They don't even take bathroom breaks. I think
they're all wearing Depends. They said they're ganging up on the
griefer. They don't like being disturbed, so you have to sneak past
them.”

My mother, Lula, and I tiptoed past Grandma, Betty, and Ruth.
They were all dressed like Zook, and they were all hunched over
their computers.

“We got a bad snert here, girls,” Betty said. “Let's kick
ass.”

“This looks like the Queen of the Damned costume party at the
Shady Rest Nursing Home,” Lula whispered to me. “Is this what the
golden years looks like?”

“I heard that,” Ruth said. “The golden years are for pussies. We
went straight to brass.”

The stalker was in the kitchen stirring a pot of chili. He did a
big smile when he saw me. “Surprise,” he said.

“So you're the stalker,” Lula said, looking him over. “I thought
you'd be nastier. You're kind of a disappointment.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I'm not any good at this. I can't get anyone
to pay attention to me.”

“You gotta look assertive if you want people to hear you,” Lula
said. “You gotta talk with authority. You gotta walk the walk and
use the language. You see what I'm saying?”

“I guess so. I guess I could try that.” He stiffened his spine
and pointed his finger at me. “Listen, bitch...”

My mother gave him a whack on the head with her wooden spoon.
“Behave yourself.”

“Don't you have anything better to do?” I asked him. “Don't you
have a job?”

“I'm currently between positions. I had a job, but then I had
the dream, and I had to give the job up so I could follow Brenda
around.”

“Okay, now we're getting somewhere,” Lula said. “This is about a
dream?”

“I told all this to the police and the judge and the
psychiatrist,” the stalker said.

“Then you should have the story down good,” Lula said. “Tell it
to me.”

“Three years ago, I was struck by lightning in the Wal-Mart
parking lot. All my hair fell out, and when it grew back, it was
this white color. And I was sort of psychic. Like sometimes people
glow and I can see their aura.”

“Oh yeah? What's my aura?” Lula wanted to know.

“I'm not seeing one right now.”

“Hunh,” Lula said. “Some psychic. Can't even see my aura. I bet
I have a hell of a aura, too.”

“Wait a minute. I think I'm starting to see one. It's...
red.”

“That's a powerful color,” Lula said.

“Anyway, sometimes I have these vision dreams that I'm pretty
sure mean something. And I started having them about Brenda. And I
got this feeling that I was supposed to be protecting her. You
know, like staying close by for when I got a vision of
danger.”