Smokin' Seventeen: A Stephanie Plum Novel (Stephanie Plum Novels)

construction trailer. Very little is visible from the road. And the killer doesn’t waste time dropping the body.”
    I watched the video and saw a car appear in the alley behind the lot. The car swerved into the lot and stopped. The driver got out, ran to the other side of the car, and opened the back door. The car shielded him from the camera, but whatever he did took less than a minute. I was watching the time tick on the computer screen. He ran around the car, got back behind the wheel, and drove away. The body left on the ground appeared to be a woman with long blond hair.
    “Any ideas?” Ranger asked.
    “Play it again.”
    I watched the clip three more times and was increasingly disturbed.
    Ranger forked a piece of melon into his mouth. “Well?”
    “The car looks like a light-color, late-model Toyota. Youcan see the emblem when he pulls into the lot. I’m guessing it’s a Camry. And with some enhancement you should be able to see the plate when he leaves. Have you given this to the police?”
    “Yes. And we’re also running the plate.”
    “Hard to tell on the infrared, but I didn’t see any blood. I couldn’t see her face. Slim body. Short skirt. Tank top. No shoes.”
    “And the killer?”
    “Male. Obviously disguised. He’s wearing a coverall that looks padded. And he’s wearing a rubber Frankenstein mask. His hands are hidden in gloves. Judging his height by the car I’d say he’s somewhere between 5′10″ to 6′ tall. And there’s something familiar about him.”
    Ranger looked at me. “You know him?”
    “I can’t exactly dial in on it, but the more I watch the video, the more I feel like I’ve run into him before.”
    “You’ve met a lot of bad guys since you’ve worked for Vinnie.”
    I ate some of my muffin. It would be comforting to think I recognized the killer from a previous takedown, but I wasn’t sure that was it. I felt like I
knew
this guy.
    Ranger closed the file. “What’s your plan for the day?”
    “I thought I’d do my bounty hunter thing.”
    “You know where to find me if you want to do your vordo thing.”
    The hideous truth was I wanted to do my vordo thing at this very moment. I wanted to do it bad. I had memories of Ranger in bed, his voice a whisper against my ear, the small of his back slick with sweat, his silky brown hair falling across his forehead when he took control and moved over me. The only thing stopping me from closing his office door and straddling him as he sat in his chair was the knowledge that we were out of raincoats.
    He read my thoughts, and it dragged another smile out of him. “Babe.”
    “Vordo is a bitch,” I told him.
    • • •
     
    I passed by the office on my way home. Mooner’s bus was still there, plus a couple cop cars, the M.E.’s truck, the state crime scene van, a satellite truck from Fox News, Morelli’s SUV, and Vinnie’s Caddie. I thought it best not to stop since I was wearing yesterday’s clothes, coming from the wrong direction, and even though I’d taken a shower I worried that I smelled like sex, or at the very least like Ranger, since I’d used his shower gel. Okay, so I have an agreement with Morelli and technically I didn’t do anything wrong. And last night was all his crazy grandmother’s fault. That didn’t mean it was a good idea to stand next to him reeking of Ranger first thing in the morning. If the situation was reversed and I knew for sure hewas doing Terry Gilman, I might be inclined to pry her heart out of her chest with a butter knife. I assumed Morelli had similar issues with Ranger.
    I swung into the lot to my apartment building and parked. The plan was to make a fast pit stop, turn myself into a brand-new Stephanie, and head back out to the crime scene. I hustled to the lobby and took the stairs two at a time to the second floor. I burst into the hall and saw that a gold foil gift bag had been placed in front of my door. There was a red apron inside the bag and a card.
    L OOKING FORWARD TO SEEING YOU WEAR THIS . O THER CLOTHES WOULD BE OPTIONAL . D AVE .
    Good grief. I took the bag to the trash chute and tossed it.
    Forty minutes later I was back on the road. Rex had been fed, I’d re-showered and dressed in clean clothes, I’d checked my phone for messages, and I’d checked my email. I’d had sixteen junk emails advertising male enhancement drugs. This was like trying to sell sand in a desert, because my males needed no further enhancement.
    I also had three messages