20 Takedown Twenty (11 page)

“What the fuck?” Moe said.

“The goddamn block is stuck,” the SUV guy said.

“Are you shitting me?”

“No. It got pulled into the guardrail when she went over, and it’s caught there.”

I heard more grunting and swearing and then a moment of silence.

“It’s not coming loose,” the SUV guy said.

“So cut the rope,” Moe said.

“I haven’t got a knife,” the SUV guy said. “You got one?”

“Isn’t there one in the car?”

“Why would we have a knife in the car? In case we want to cut salami? I don’t use a knife. I’m a gun guy.”

“Great. Then fucking
shoot
the rope,” Moe said.

I heard someone leaning on a horn, more swearing, and the sound of men running. There was shouting and car noise, but I couldn’t sort any of it out. I had my own problems. I was hanging upside down by one foot with my heart racing and the rope biting into my ankle.

I tilted my head to look up at the bridge and saw Ranger straddling the guardrail.

“Try to stay still,” he said to me. “I’m going to pull you up, but you have to stop twirling. You’re loosening the knot.”

I instantly froze, but I was still gently swaying, and I felt the knot slip. A heartbeat later I was in free fall. I caught a glimpse of Ranger flying off the bridge after me. I curled into a cannon-ball position, and took a deep breath a split-second before I hit the water. I plunged below the surface and came out of my fetal position disoriented. I felt myself being pushed up, and in the longest moment of my life I struggled not to breathe and suck in river water. I surfaced sputtering and gasping for air. I went
under briefly and was pushed up again. I could feel Ranger against my back, his arm wrapped around me.

“Relax!” he shouted. “I’m going to float with the current and tow you in.”

I tried to tell him I could swim, but I was shaking and my teeth were chattering and I couldn’t get any words formed. By the time we reached the bank there were four Rangeman guys in the water waiting to help us, and an EMS truck and a police car were idling a short distance away, lights flashing.

I was pulled out of the water and wrapped in a blanket. Someone removed the cuffs. Ranger held me tight against him, his cheek against mine.

“You’re okay,” he said. “You’re safe.”

I nodded, unable to speak.

He stepped back and looked at me. “Anything broken?”

I shook my head. “N-n-n-no.”

“Do you need to get checked out by the EMS tech?”

“N-n-n-no.”

“I need to take care of things here,” he said. “I’m going to have Tank take you home. You can talk to the police after you’ve had a shower and gotten into dry clothes.”

“It was M-m-moe and Shorty,” I said. “Damn, I can’t stop shaking.”

“Adrenaline burn-off,” Ranger said. “It’s normal.”

“Why aren’t
you
sh-sh-shaking?”

“I’m not normal.”

TANK IS APPROPRIATELY named. He’s big and indestructible. He’s second in command at Rangeman, and he’s the guy Ranger trusts to watch his back. A while back he dated Lula, but Lula was allergic to his cats, and Tank wasn’t giving up his cats for love or money or Lula.

“Your messenger bag is on the backseat,” Tank said. “We found it in the Lincoln. Good thing they threw it in with you, or we wouldn’t have been able to track you down.”

“Did you capture Moe and Shorty?”

“They took off in the SUV, and Hal and Gino and five police cars went after them.”

I retrieved my bag from the backseat, found my cellphone, and dialed Lula.

“Where the heck are you?” Lula asked. “I’ve been standing here by the car, waiting for you.”

“I sort of got kidnapped and thrown in the river, but I’m okay now. Tank is driving me home.”

“Say what?”

“It wasn’t a big deal. I’ll tell you about it later. Did you find Kevin?”

“No, but there was some homeless guy eating Kevin’s lettuce. I gave him five bucks for a bottle of wine and he left.”

“Are you going to Bingo tonight?”

“I’m gonna pass. I got a date.”

“Does your date involve standing on a corner?”

“Maybe for a moment.”

I disconnected, and Tank looked over at me. “Seemed to me that it was a big deal.”

I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes. “I’m trying to forget.”

“Don’t forget too much or it might happen again.”

The very thought made me shudder.

A half hour later Tank walked me to my door.

“Would you like me to stay?” he asked.

“Not necessary. But thank you. I’m fine.”

I closed and locked my door. I looked in at Rex and told him not to worry, because I was okay. And then I burst into tears. I cried all through my shower and halfway through drying my hair. I’d stopped sobbing, but my eyes were red and my nose was still leaking, when my cellphone rang.

“I’m at your door,” Morelli said. “You’re supposed to be in
there, according to Ranger, but I’m pounding on your door, and you’re not answering.”

“I didn’t hear you. I had the hair dryer going.”

I opened the door to Morelli, and he scooped me into him.

“You’re crushing me,” I said. “I can’t breathe.”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to find out the woman you love has just been thrown off a bridge? My heart stopped beating. Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“I got some scratches and bruises, but nothing serious. Mostly I was terrified. I was so scared I don’t even remember hitting the water.”

His cellphone buzzed with a text message.

“I hate this thing,” Morelli said, eyes on the message.

“It’s okay if you have to go. All I want to do is sleep. Now that I’m warm and dry, I’m flat out done.”

He kissed me on the forehead. “I’ll call when I get a break.”

I locked up after him, crawled into bed, put a pillow over my head, and instantly fell asleep.

I woke up when the pillow got lifted off and Ranger looked down at me.

“Babe.”

“Getting dropped into the Delaware is exhausting.”

Ranger was sitting on the side of the bed, and he was looking comfortably dry and perfectly groomed in Rangeman black
fatigues. There was almost always a softness to his mouth that was sensuous and youthful, but his eyes were dark and serious and reflected his troubled history.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m doing great.”

And that was true. Turns out I’m very resilient. All I need is some chattering teeth, about an hour of uncontrollable sobbing, some sleep, and I’m ready to face the world again. Plus I was pretty sure there was one last leftover hot dog in my fridge, and that would make everything just about perfect.

“I wish I could say the same,” Ranger said. “I’m having a hard time erasing the vision of you falling from the bridge.”

“Yes, but you jumped in and saved me. You’re my hero.”

“Being your hero is a full-time job. I worry that someday I’m not going to get to you in time.”

“I didn’t know you worried about
anything
.”

“I worry about
everything
.”

“What happened to Moe and Shorty and the two guys in the SUV? Were they captured?”

“They were captured and booked, and they’re already out on bail.”

“They tried to kill me! They were serious. How could they get released?”

“Sympathetic judge. Would you consider moving into Rangeman until we get this sorted out?”

“It’s tempting, but no.”

Rangeman was headquartered in an under-the-radar
office building on a quiet side street in the center of the city. There was secure underground parking and seven secure floors aboveground. Ranger’s one-bedroom, one-bath private apartment, professionally decorated in earth tones with black accents, occupied the entire seventh floor. It was calm and cool and immaculate, thanks to the building’s housekeeper, Ella. The problem was with the bed: Ranger slept in it.

Moving into the Rangeman building would protect me from everyone but Ranger. Not that I could compare sleeping with Ranger to being dead. And not that Ranger would force himself on me. My fear was more that
I’d
force myself on
Ranger
and screw my life up in a major way.

I looked at my watch. “
Damn
. It’s almost seven o’clock! I’m late. I told Grandma I’d pick her up for Bingo at seven.” I thunked my forehead with the heel of my hand. “My car is still parked at the bonds office.”

“I had it picked up and brought here. It’s parked in the lot.”

The firehouse is on the fringe of the Burg. It has a large public-use room that holds Bingo games, wedding and baby showers, small wedding receptions, and pancake breakfasts that benefit a variety of causes. The floor is oak, the walls are painted a bilious green, and the lighting is fluorescent. The Bingo game setup is pretty much the same as at the Senior Center.

Grandma and I, the last to arrive, were relegated to the back
of the room. This was perfect for me. I could see everyone playing. Twenty percent of the players were gonzo Bingo junkies who played Bingo every day and were also at the Senior Center. The remaining 80 percent were mostly from the Burg. A bunch of Grandma’s cronies were there, plus some of my grade school and high school friends. At least half the room had been drinking, and they were feeling no pain.

“Your hair is different,” I said to Grandma.

“Yeah. I went blond. The gray made me look too old.”

Grandma’s gray hair was just the tip of the iceberg. She was young at heart, but she had a body like a soup chicken and skin like an elephant.

“I went to the beauty salon today and got spruced up,” Grandma said. “Ever since Mildred Frick called me a slut my phone hasn’t stopped ringing. I got two dates for the weekend.”

“It might not be such a good thing to have men calling you because they think you’re a slut,” I said. “They’re only going to be after one thing.”

“I hope that’s true. I don’t want to find out I went blond and bought them thongs for nothing.”

“Did you happen to hear anything about me this afternoon?”

“Just how you got thrown off the bridge and Ranger jumped in to save you.”

“Does Mom know?”

“Yeah. She ironed sheets for three hours, mumbling about how she wished you were more like your sister with all the kids
and a lawyer for a husband, and how she couldn’t understand you not wanting to be a butcher. And then she had a couple nips of booze while she was making supper, and some red wine when we sat down to eat, and she was pretty much in a nice stupor by the time I left.”

My mother always irons when she’s upset. If you walk into the house and see the ironing board up, it’s usually a good idea to turn tail and leave. I guess that’s cowardly, but Grandma and I are almost always the cause for the stress, and we’ve learned it’s best to give my mother some space when she’s freaked.

Grandma and I each had three Bingo cards. Every time a number was called I’d bang my splint onto the Formica table-top, trying to use my dauber.

“How long do you gotta wear that thing?” Grandma asked.

“A couple weeks.”

“Maybe you want me to take over your cards so you don’t break any more of your finger bone.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

There were three men playing Bingo. All three had been at the Senior Center. Two were a gay couple who were probably in their seventies. It was hard to judge their exact age because they were Botoxed, exfoliated, and moisturized, and had skin like a baby’s bottom.

Gordon Krutch was the third man. He was also in his seventies, but without the benefits of gaydom his face looked like a road map of Newark: lots of intersecting streets, plus a bunch of potholes, and skin the color and texture of concrete.

Grandma caught Gordon’s eye and waved at him. Gordon waved back and blew Grandma a kiss.

“Isn’t he something?” Grandma said to me. “We’re going to the movies tomorrow. He still drives and everything. He’s a real catch. He’s kept himself in shape. He takes the fitness class for old people at the Senior Center.”

I suppose it’s relative, but Gordon didn’t look to me like he was in great shape. He was about fifty pounds overweight, and he broke into a sweat from the exertion of walking. Plus there was the near-death pallor.