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“Hal is my night watchman?”
“Until twelve.”
“It’s really not necessary to have someone out there all night. I’m sure I’m safe here in my apartment.”
“The alternative is to have me in your apartment or for you to move in with me.”
“I’ll consider it,” I said.
“Is there anything new that I should know?”
“You heard the phone call.”
“I did.”
“I haven’t had any contact since.”
“This is getting tedious,” Ranger said. “I’d like to go more proactive but all we’ve got so far are dead ends.”
He took a silver medallion necklace out of his pocket. The medallion was engraved with a cross.
“Don’t take this off,” he said. “Ever. Wear it in the shower.”
“GPS?” I asked.
“Next generation.”
He fixed it around my neck, and he gave me a quick kiss. He thought about it for a beat and kissed me with a lot more passion.
“Think about the alternatives,” he said.
He left and I did a lot of thinking about the alternatives.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
There are laundry facilities in the basement of my building, but I’ve always suspected that a troll lives behind the dryer. A better solution to the laundry problem is to cart my laundry to my parents’ house once a week and turn it over to my mom. Since my underwear drawer was empty and I had no clean jeans, this was the day.
I skipped breakfast, hung my messenger bag on my shoulder, and hauled my laundry basket out to the parking lot. The Rangeman SUV was one row away with a clear view of my Whatever. I was certain the occupants were awake and on the job, ever vigilant. No doubt hoping for a hooded guy to jump out from behind a car and try to stun gun me. Then they could pounce on him and this whole nightmare would be over. I was hoping for this too.
I slowly walked to my car, giving the bad guys plenty of time to rush me. The bad guys didn’t appear, so I drove to my parents’ house with Rangeman following at a discreet distance. I handed my laundry over to my mom, and I sat down to bacon and eggs and crumb coffee cake.
“Anything new from the gossip line?” I asked Grandma.
“Nothing worth repeating from bingo,” Grandma said. “And I didn’t go to the bakery this morning, so I’m not up on the latest. We had a beauty of a thunderstorm last night, though. Woke me up. And I think I heard fire trucks, but nobody called so far about anything burning down.”
“Do you need help with the laundry?” I asked my mom.
“No,” she said. “I’ve already got the darks in the washer.”
“Are you going after anybody interesting today?” Grandma asked. “Murderers or rapists? Animal abusers?”
“None of the above,” I said. “Business has been slow.”
“We’re having pork chops tonight,” my mother said. “If you want to come to dinner and pick up your laundry.”
“I’ll see how my day goes,” I said. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”
Grandma looked at me and rolled her eyes. No one ever wanted to eat my mom’s pork chops. She was a good cook, with the exception of pork chops. You couldn’t cut her pork chops with a steak knife. You couldn’t cut them with a hatchet.
