Hard Eight (Stephanie Plum 8)

“See, here's the thing . . . I usually work alone.”

“Sure, but once in a while you work with a partner, right? And I could be that partner sometimes, right? I got myself all prepared. I got a black hat with BOND ENFORCEMENT printed on it this morning. And I got pepper spray and handcuffs . . .”

Handcuffs? Be still, my fast-beating heart. “Are these regulation handcuffs with a key and everything?”

“Yeah. I got them at that gun store on Rider Street. I would have gotten a gun, too, but I didn't have enough money.”

“I'll pick you up at twelve.”

“Oh boy, this is going to be great. I'll be all ready. I'll be at my office. Maybe we can get fried chicken this time. Unless you don't want fried chicken. If you don't want fried chicken, we could get a burrito, or we could get a burger, or we could—”

I made crackling sounds into the phone. “Can't hear you,” I yelled. “You're breaking up. See you at twelve.” And I disconnected.

I cruised out of the Burg and turned onto Hamilton. In a few minutes I was at the office. I parked at the curb behind a new black Porsche, which I suspected belonged to Ranger.

Everyone looked over when I swung through the door. Ranger was at Connie's desk. He was dressed in SWAT black, again. He caught my eye, and I felt my stomach do a nervous roll.

“I had a friend working the emergency room last night, and she told me you came in with a little guy who was all busted up,” Lula said.

“Kloughn. And he wasn't all busted up. He just had a broken nose. Don't ask.”

Vinnie was lounging in the doorway to his inner office. “Who's this clown?” Vinnie asked.

“Albert Kloughn,” Ranger said. “He's an attorney.”

I stopped short of asking how Ranger knew Kloughn. The answer was obvious. Ranger knew everything.

“Let me guess,” Vinnie said to me. “You need another pair of cuffs.”

“Wrong. I need an address. I need to talk to Dotty Palowski.”

Connie fed the name to the search system. A minute later the information started coming in. “She's Dotty Rheinhold now. And she's living in South River.” Connie printed the page and handed it over to me. “She's divorced with two kids, and she works for the Turnpike Authority in East Brunswick.”

Ordinarily I'd stay to chat, but I was afraid someone would ask about Kloughn's nose.

“Gotta run,” I said. “Things to do.”

I paused just outside the office door. I was sheltered by a small overhead awning. Beyond the awning, the rain fell in a relentless drizzle that didn't measure up to downpour status but was enough to ruin my hair and soak into my jeans.

Ranger followed me out. “It might be good to keep more than one bullet in your gun, babe.”

“You heard about the snakes?”

“I ran into Costanza. He was looking at life through the bottom of a beer glass.”

“I'm not having much luck finding Annie Soder.”

“You're not the only one.”

“Jeanne Ellen can't find her, either?”

“Not yet.”

Our eyes held for a moment. “Which team are you on?” I asked.

He tucked my hair behind my ear, his fingertips brushing feather light across my temple, his thumb at the line of my jaw. “I have my own team.”

“Tell me about Jeanne Ellen.”