Page 14 of Going Rogue

I switched my bedside light on and propped myself up on an elbow. “Have you heard anything from dispatch about Connie?” I asked him.

“No. Sorry. I’ll ride by Pino’s on my way to work and check on her car.” He strapped his watch on and took his gun out of the top drawer in his nightstand. “Are you getting up or are you going back to sleep?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“If I’m gone by the time you get downstairs, there’s cereal in the cupboard and yogurt in the fridge.”

“Yogurt?”

“It’s healthy. It compensates for the junk that I eat the rest of the day.”

He gave me a kiss and headed out with Bob on his heels. I didn’t think I was ready to face yogurt, so I turned the light off and tried to go back to sleep.

I gave up on sleep at six o’clock. I took a fast shower, got dressed, and followed the aroma of coffee to the kitchen. I ate a bowl of cereal and looked at my watch. It was six thirty. It was dark outside. No one would be at the office. The mall was closed. My parents didn’t get up and moving around until seven thirty. The bakery might be open.

“What on earth do people do at this time of day?” I asked Bob.

Bob wagged his tail and looked toward the front door, so I hooked Bob up to his leash and took him for a walk. It was seven o’clock when I got back to Morelli’s house. I checked my email, shot some pool, and thought about going home to my apartment. I decided that I would go to the office instead.

On the way to the office, I detoured to Pino’s to see if Connie’s car was still there. I got a chill when I saw that it was parked alone in the lot. I drove past Connie’s house. Lights were off. I wanted to call her mother, but I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t want to wake her. I drove past the office. No lights on inside. No cars parked at the curb. No activity in the area. Some morning traffic on Hamilton Avenue. I parked behind the office and sat for a couple minutes, trying to work up enough nerve to get out of the car.

A kidnap scenario was running through my mind. The chances that Connie had parked her car in Pino’s lot were just about zero. Connie always parked her car in this lot, I thought. She parked it right where I was currently sitting. She’d gotten out of her car with a box of doughnuts, and when she approached the back door to the office, somebody grabbed her.

My hands were sweating on the steering wheel. It was dark in the alley. Lots of places for a man to hide. There used to be a light over the back door, but someone had shot it out a year ago and it had never been replaced.

Now or never, I thought. Just do it. Get out of the car and into the office. Pretend you’re Ranger.

Ranger was the other man in my life. Riccardo Carlos Manoso, a.k.a. Ranger. Formerly Special Forces and now owner of a high-tech security firm in downtown Trenton. He was dark, inside and out. He was fearless. He was perfectly toned and supremely skilled in just about everything. Okay, he didn’t cook, at least not in the kitchen, but he was magic in all the other rooms.

I slipped out of the car, got the key from under the brick, and let myself into the office. I locked the door behind myself and turned the lights on. My heart was thumping in my chest, and I had to admit to myself that I was no Ranger. Still, I’d gotten myself into the office and that was pretty good.

I hit the power button on Connie’s computer and found the file detailing all the items held as security against a bond. I printed the list and took it to the storeroom. The items were organized by date received. Nothing recorded yesterday. Two bonds had been issued over the weekend. One was secured by a Harley. One was secured by a promissory note from a third party. Three bondshad been issued last Wednesday. They were low monetary bonds secured by a watch, a man’s ruby pinky ring, and a DVD player. I found all of the items, including the registration for the Harley. The week before had been a decent week for Vinnie. Twelve bonds had been issued. Carpenter Beedle was one of the bailouts. Two other men had also been bailed out with Carpenter—Sydney Bowler and Paul Mori. Everyone checked out but Paul Mori. He had a low bond and had used a coin as security. No details were given on the coin and there wasn’t a coin in the storeroom. I suspected the coin had gone to Atlantic City with Vinnie.

It was almost eight thirty when Lula banged on the front door to the office and woke me up. I’d fallen asleep on the fake leather couch and was disoriented for a moment before getting my act together. I stumbled to the door and unlocked it, and Lula bustled in.

“I saw the light was on in here when I drove up. How come you were sleeping on the couch? Did something happen to your apartment? Did it get firebombed again?”

“I came in early to check on the bond inventory. I thought I might find something that would lead to Connie.”

“And?”

“Nothing jumped out at me,” I said.

“I guess you’re thinking about the guy who called yesterday and said Vinnie had something of his that he wanted back. Personally, I think it’s a long shot that it’s something stuffed away in the storeroom. I mean it could be anything. This is Vinnie we’re talking about. This guy could be talking about his wife or a barnyard animal.” Lula set a bakery box on Connie’s desk. “I stopped to get the doughnuts this morning. The people at thebakery said they hadn’t seen Connie. Have you talked to her mama this morning?”

“Not yet. I didn’t want to wake her.”

“For all we know Connie could be sound asleep in her bed.”

I dialed Connie’s number. No answer on her cell phone. No prompt to leave a message. This wasn’t a good sign. I dialed the number of their house phone and Connie’s mother answered.

“Hello,” she said. “Who’s this?”

“It’s Stephanie Plum,” I said. “Is Connie there?”

“No. She didn’t come home last night. She didn’t call me or anything. She never just doesn’t come home. I know something terrible happened to her. I can feel it. The Margucci boy didn’t come home one night, and they found him in the river a week later. I’m going to call the police and tell them to look in the river.”

“I’m sure she’s okay, Mrs. Rosolli. Tell her to call me when you talk to her.”

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