Lean Mean Thirteen (Stephanie Plum 13)

“Hal got to the back of the building just as the car was leaving,” Tank said. “Hal saw a rope hanging from a third-floor window. Looked like someone might have rappelled out. Hal had to turn around to follow the car, and we were both too far behind to catch him. He was really moving.”

“Did Hal get a plate?”

“He got a plate the first time he followed him. We've already traced it.”

“Stolen?” Ranger asked.

“Yes.”

“I'm taking Stephanie home. Stay here a while longer and let me know if anything weird goes down.”

Ranger opened his apartment door for me and walked me to the kitchen.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Famished. And tired.”

“I can call Ella. She'll make whatever you want. Or you can prowl through the kitchen. There's still peanut butter from the last time you were here.”

“Peanut butter sounds perfect.”

I shucked my coat and assembled a peanut butter and olive sandwich while Ranger leaned against the kitchen counter and punched a number into his phone.

“Who are you calling?” I asked.

“Morelli. Do you want him on speakerphone?”

“No. I haven't the energy.”

“We need to talk,” Ranger said to Morelli. “There was a second fire tonight. Two people toasted by a flamethrower. I saw them just before the building exploded. Same drill as the warehouse. Both times there were victims already burned, accelerant in the area, and there must have been an incendiary device on a timer. I'd like to see the reports. And it would be good to get a fast ID on the bodies in the apartment building tonight.”

Morelli said something, and Ranger looked over at me.

“No, she wasn't directly involved,” Ranger said. “She was with me the whole time. She's fine. Her hair didn't even catch fire.”

I rolled my eyes and gave Morelli and Ranger the finger.

“I wanted to bring this to you first,” Ranger said. “If you're unavailable, I can go to your captain. This probably could benefit from a task force.”

Ranger flipped his phone closed and uncorked a bottle of red wine. He poured me a glass and ate an olive from the bottle.

“Is Morelli going to run with this?” I asked.

“He's going to make a phone call.”

I had my sandwich made, but I was so exhausted I could hardly chew. I washed a chunk down with wine and felt all my bones dissolve. “I'm going downstairs to research flamethrowers,” Ranger said. “Ill be up later.”

I finished the sandwich and wine and fell asleep wearing one of Rangers T-shirts. It was big and comfy, and it was the first thing I laid hands on in the dressing room.

Sleep is very strange stuff. One minute you don't know anything, and then you're awake and life starts over. I opened my eyes to Ranger, fully dressed, standing over me, coffee cup in his hand.

“I let you sleep as long as possible,” he said. “We have a meeting at the station in a half hour. You have ten minutes to shower and get dressed. I'm putting your coffee in the bathroom.”

“Meeting?”

“Fire marshal-that would be Ken Roiker-Morelli, Captain Targa, Marty Gobel. Don't know who else. We're going to give information, and we're going to get information.” He looked down at me. “If I leave, you'll get up, right?”

“Yeah.”