2,179CHAPTER 51
DAY 6 TRENTON
Friday
This morning I took my tired butt to Rangeman to put in a full day of work. I had a stack of my skip files I needed to run through Rangeman's search engines. I hoped to uncover enough information to catch at least one this evening or tomorrow morning because I had serious plans tomorrow night. Plans I'd been looking forward to for months. Plans that were essential to putting the past to rest once and for all. When I got off the elevator on the fifth floor, Lester was waiting to tell me he had acquired the necessary explosives to blow up the cellar. It was finally time.
I also wanted to finish searches on the list of employees Ranger had given me. But first, I had to run my skip files. Luckily, I uncovered a few addresses where I thought I might catch my fugitives hiding and mapped out where I'd hit first. Between tonight and tomorrow morning, I could be sitting on a nice pile of cash. Returning assholes to the system was rewarding in many ways.
Setting my skip files aside, I concentrated on Ranger's saboteur case. I'd already explored Cole Reynolds' personal history and traced his bank accounts to discover at least one anonymous LLC. Today, I wanted to tackle the rest of the Rangeman employees hired within the last six months. Keeping multiple systems constantly running without getting confused with which printouts belonged to which person was a delicate balance. With my trusty highlighter in hand, I tackled the reams of printouts I'd accumulated. Some might say my process was a waste of natural resources, but it was what worked for me. Yes, Rangeman recycles. Tank makes sure of it. He's all about sustainability.
I worked backward, beginning with employees with the newest hire dates, and looked for information connecting my suspects to Cole Reynolds. If I didn't turn up anything substantial with this targeted list, I'd incrementally extend the hire date range. It all depended on what I found. I wasn't a professional researcher, but I kept reminding myself that I'd impressed Finn and Oz with my ability to spot patterns. I could do this.
By six o'clock, I had my completed list of Rangeman saboteurs. Spoiler alert… there were eight spies in total. Spoiler alert again… Sasser and Henderson were on the list. I knew there was a reason my Spidey sense had gone off the moment I stepped off the elevator and locked eyes with them. They'd been hired three months ago. Two other spies had been hired nine months ago, two more were hired twelve months ago, and the last two were hired sixteen months ago. I felt sure I'd gotten them all. If I'd searched further, I'd have been looking into the long-term Rangeman employees. That would have been a waste of time because I didn't believe they were capable of this kind of betrayal. I blew out a breath. Ranger wasn't going to be happy to find out this had been going on far longer than he had assumed.
My plan was to give Ranger my list and outline my reasons. It was up to him to catch the spies in the act. If it were me, I'd individually feed them false information regarding the next bid and see what happened. I stuffed all my printouts into the appropriate files I'd made and moved to stand.
I took a deep breath at his closed office door. I dreaded going in there. Things between us were still strained. I imagine they would be for some time. Finding the right balance in our friendship was hard after being sexually involved. But I was willing to try, just like with Joyce.
I knocked on Ranger's door. "Come in."
Tank and Ranger were standing near his desk. I suspected they'd been deep in conversation before I knocked. I hoped it wasn't anything serious. It didn't sound like Rangeman could handle any more problems. "I can leave these with you and come back later," I said, holding the stacks of files out.
Ranger shook his head and walked to me. He was looking at me like I was a pineapple upside-down cake. I thought he was going to kiss me, and for some reason, my legs wouldn't move me out of his way. Instead, he reached around me and closed the door. Wow, that had been close. He took the files from me and put them on his desk. "What'd you find?" he asked, leaning against his desk and picking up the first file to begin skimming. I cleared my throat and waited because Tank was still in the room, and Ranger had said everything to do with the saboteur investigation was confidential. Ranger looked up, saw my reticence, and said, "Tank knows."
"Right." I smiled at Tank and cleared my throat. "So, I think you've got eight employees reporting information to Cole Reynolds."
"Eight?" Tank said a little loudly, but not so loud anyone could hear outside the office.
Ranger's eyes narrowed, and he gritted his jaw so tightly I heard his teeth grind. Eek. He was mad, alright.
"How the hell did eight traitors get by me?" Tank looked at Ranger, truly appalled and feeling guilty. "I'm sorry, man. This was all on my watch."
"No, it wasn't. At least not all of it," I said. Both heads swung back to me, and with the look they were giving me, I started spewing information fast. "Phillip Sasser, Mark Henderson, Chris Garrett, Todd Henson, Lee Ramage, Jay Higgins, Michael Morton, and Brian Overton are personally connected to Cole Reynolds from way back. Morton and Overton were hired sixteen months ago."
"That's far longer than we suspected anything was going on," Tank said, his mouth hanging open. I've never seen him do that before.
"True. If I'm right, Cole Reynolds put them in place months before he opened Elite Security and started siphoning clients right from the beginning. I bet Morton and Overton were setting themselves up in positions of trust and getting the lay of the land at Rangeman. Then Higgins and Ramage were hired twelve months ago. Garrett and Henson were hired nine months ago. And bringing up the rear is Sasser and Henderson, hired three months ago."
"Take us through this. How did you come to this conclusion?" Ranger had gotten ahold of his anger now. I kinda felt sorry for the spies in his company because they were in for a world of hurt.
I took a deep breath and hoped I could explain in a way that made sense. Sometimes I was surprised that I was able to follow pieces of information that looked meaningless and end up with a clear picture of a crime. "Well, to understand how I came to my conclusions, I need to take you through my process, so bear with me. First, I did a deep dive into Cole Reynolds. He's a real piece of work. Which I'm sure you already know firsthand. He's ruthless to the point he has no qualms about destroying his wife after she filed for divorce. He took the kid and painted her as crazy. As you know, he was a Navy SEAL and is trained pretty much like you and the Merry Men."
Tank grinned. He knew I called them that and thought it was funny because if Tank gave off any type of vibe, it wouldn't be described as merry.
"Reynolds comes from a radical, anti-women's rights family. They are part of a fundamental group called "The Traditional Way." The movement spreads a really fucked up message. I'm just gonna call it what it is… a cult."
"Cults usually have an authoritarian leader. Who is theirs?" Tank asked.
"Some dude named Byron DeSandalwood. He's gained favor with several local and national politicians. He's protected. But even he couldn't stop the recent expose' where kids who had grown up in the cult and left as adults were interviewed. By the way, leaving the cult meant leaving their family and friends forever. The ones who escaped said their parents handed them over to DeSandalwood to be molded into an army that was supposed to stop progress in this country, or at least the progress they disagreed with, which basically consisted of anything that allowed women freedom."
"I've heard of DeSandalwood," Ranger said. "He's got heavy influence."
"Yeah. Everyone's turned a blind eye to what's going on in his training camps. Children are segregated by gender and indoctrinated into the beliefs of the cult. Girls learn cooking, sewing, and how to be submissive. They are taught to be silent, and their actions cause wickedness in others, especially boys. If something bad happened to the girls, and trust me, a lot of bad things happened—things like being molested and raped—the movement taught them it was their fault because their clothes were revealing, or they acted seductively, or they spoke when they should have been silent. It was a perfect circle of blame with nowhere to seek recourse. Those girls are being groomed to be victims, and they don't even realize it because they're being taught these beliefs by people they love. Quite a setup. Can't believe the assholes running it haven't been put in jail yet. Somebody should get on that." I really meant that last part. I hoped Ranger's revenge against Cole Reynolds would extend to "The Traditional Way" movement. I hoped he obliterated it. I would help. "So, while the girls were being taught all that toxic shit, the boys were being trained to become adult assholes."
I paused to let them digest all that and gauge how they took the news. This was much bigger than they thought. Tank wiped the sweat from his forehead with a hankie he kept in his pocket for that purpose while Ranger flipped pages in the file. I wasn't sure he was reading or even seeing the pages. With any luck, he was already crafting a plan to deal with Reynolds and his cronies.
"I wasn't surprised when my investigation pointed to Phillip Sasser and Mark Henderson," I said. "I knew something was off with those two on my first day back." They'd been on monitors that day, and how they looked at me was disconcerting. It had set off my Spidey sense.
"Why? What did they do?" As mad as Ranger had been a moment ago, he was livid now. He looked like he was about to murder someone or two someone's.
"Nothing specific. They just gave me predator vibes. It wasn't so much what they did as the looks they were giving me. It was like they had contempt for me being here, you know? I brushed it off because I've experienced a lot of that kind of thing from men." Ranger and Tank were about to ask who else had treated me that way. It was sweet they wanted to save me from all the assholes in the world. "Their reaction to having me in the building as a co-worker makes sense now that I understand they were taught that women don't belong in the workplace but at home taking care of the home fires. Anyway, with them being new, I ran them first. I discovered they were both at the "Traditional Way" training camp in their youth which is probably how they knew Reynolds. From there, I just kept going further back according to hire dates. All eight of the guys on the list I gave you were trained at the camp. Generally, I don't believe in coincidences, but even if I did… this was too much. No way would Rangeman hire eight employees within sixteen months tied to the same radical fringe group."
"How far back did you go in checking employees?" Ranger asked.
"Two years. I don't think it goes further than Morton and Overton." I was about to leave when I remembered one more thing. "Oh! I discovered an anonymous LLC I suspect belongs to Cole Reynolds." Ranger and Tank's eyebrows rose because finding information on anonymous shell corporations was tricky. "I thought it would be a good lead, but it didn't pan out. However, there could be leverage there. I'm sure Reynolds wouldn't want his girlfriend, Courtney Montrose, to discover his affair with Cassie Danvers." I frowned.
"Why is she making that face?" Tank asked Ranger.
"I think she's glowering," Ranger said.
Tank stepped closer to Ranger. "I'm scared, Ranger. Will you hold me?" Ranger shoved him away.
I rolled my eyes to keep from laughing. Then, I remembered why I was mad. I pointed at my face. "This is my disgusted face. Not to be confused with my repulsed face. I don't get how Cole Reynolds could love Courtney yet have a mistress set up in another town? If he doesn't love Courtney enough not to disrespect her by keeping another woman stashed away, he should just cut her loose. She deserves to know the complete story. Someone should tell that poor woman what this douchebag is doing. I just don't understand why people do that." Tank's body language had changed while I spewed my diatribe, and he shot Ranger a pointed glare. Was that displeasure? It was so quick and so minute that I would have missed it had I not studied Finn's book on micro-expressions. I wonder what that was about. Oh well, not my business. As if I were a lawyer resting her case, I said, "Well, that's all I've got so far."
"You did well, Babe."
"I hope this solves your problem." I headed for the door and then turned back. "Oh, Tank, I might have someone interested in one of your kittens."
I caught Ranger's smirk as Tank straightened with interest. "Yeah? Get me their names. I'll have to check them out."
"Like a full background check?" He simply crossed his arms over his chest and stared. "I guess that's a yes. Well, I'm off the clock. See you next week."
DAY 7 TRENTON
Saturday
Hector, Lester, and I arrived in the Pine Barrens around 5:00 p.m. to give us time to set up the explosives before the sun went down. We wanted to use the cover of darkness to assist in our getaway in case someone heard the explosion. Blowing up the cellar had occupied my mind since Agent Kinkade told me the landowners planned to leave it as is and just keep it locked. That wasn't good enough for me or Miss. Odette or any family members of Durant's victims. I made Miss. Odette a promise, and I intended to keep it.
After parking a couple hundred feet from the cellar, Hector turned to me. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Yes," I said, more confident about this than I'd been about anything in my life. Not wanting to discuss it further, I got out of the truck. The area had changed in the last four months. Winter had turned into Spring and now Summer. Everything was fresh with renewal. While it was beautiful above ground, underneath had been pure misery for eight—make that nine women—for more than fourteen years. The contradiction of this place was maddening.
I found the tree trunk shaped like a scary face and made the straight shot to the area where the cellar was. We found the padlocked cellar door under the pine needles. Anyone could have stumbled upon it and continued to use it for evil purposes. It had to go.
Lester put down his box of supplies and put on a pair of latex gloves. "Stay here. I'll be back in a few minutes."
"No way." I shook my head to add emphasis. "We're doing this together." Not waiting for his protest, I grabbed a pair of gloves, put them on, and took the bolt cutters out of the box. Lester and Hector exchanged a concerned look, but I wouldn't let them deter me. This was happening, and I would be instrumental in the cellar's demise.
"I will stay on lookout," Hector offered, realizing my mind was made up.
"Good idea." Lester took the bolt cutters from me. "Let me do that."
"Okay." I'd worked hard the last three months to increase my upper body strength, but I didn't have a point to prove. Lester could cut through the lock much faster than I could.
A frisson of unease swept through me as he reached for the trap door and opened it wide. The fear I thought I had conquered reared its powerful head. Those stairs. Those mother fucking stairs. My hand went to my lotus flower belt buckle, rubbing it like a talisman. It reminded me to see myself as Hector did. Strong. Capable. Powerful.
"It's okay, Steph," Lester said. "You don't have to go down. I can set the charges."
I shook my head, and those debilitating fears scurried back into their hiding spot. I didn't fool myself into thinking they were gone for good. I couldn't be that lucky. I straightened my spine. No way was I wimping out. I wasn't the weak woman who woke up in the cellar. I'd done the work to get strong mentally, physically, and emotionally. "Let's do this." I picked up the box of supplies and went down the stairs. Lester quietly followed.
We stopped at the base of the stairs and saw that the door leading into the cellar still had the three padlocks attached. While Lester cut through them, I shifted from one foot to the other as images of my time chained up in the cellar assailed me. I almost gagged when Lester pushed the door open to the stale room. The stench wasn't as powerful since the bodies had been removed. Still, my nose remembered the smell and conjured it as if the rotting bodies were still staged in glass cases waiting for me to return.
The room was empty except for the sink and the metal bedframe, both attached to the wall. The FBI agents had taken everything else as evidence. I looked down at the concrete. I was standing in the middle of a large section of dried blood near the door. This was where I'd taken my final stand against Durant. I'd attacked him with the cuff I'd gotten off my left hand by breaking my bones. I looked down at my hands, expecting to see them covered in my and Durant's blood. They'd been so slick as I tried the various keys in the locks at my wrists, ankles, and neck. The blood in my veins could still feel the panic I'd experienced.
Lester was careful not to crowd me. He stood by the wooden support pole Durant had chained me to while he beat me. "Destroying this place might help in the moment," he said slightly above a whisper. "But it won't change what happened. Believe me when I tell you I know what I'm talking about."
"You're wrong. Every last fucking second with Durant will be buried when this place blows. Now, how many sticks of dynamite do you have?"
"No offense, but dynamite is pretty sensitive stuff, and this is you we're talking about. Soooo, I went with the much more stable C4. It's not volatile like other explosives." He cut into the black plastic-wrapped block, revealing a white putty-like substance, and worked it until it was pliable.
My nose twitched. "It smells like motor oil."
"That's because there's motor oil in the composition. It's only a small percentage, but it makes it easier for bomb-sniffing dogs."
I'd been excellent at making things out of playdoh, so I reached for a portion of C4. "Can I do that?"
"Sure." He helped me break off the right amount, and I began working it like he was.
Lester inserted a small metal tube attached to a roll of cord into his section of C4 like he was taking the internal temperature. "What are you doing?"
"This is the blasting cap. It contains a booster. Without it, the C4 won't explode."
We set four strategic charges, one in each corner of the cellar. Lester assured me it was enough to obliterate the cellar out of existence. We didn't bother locking up because there wouldn't be a cellar when we were done. Still, I stopped at the door and faced the room. "You tried to take everything from me, but I'm the one left standing, not you," I whispered.
I caught up to Lester, who was waiting on the stairs. When we made it to the top, we shut the trap door and walked to where Hector was waiting. Lester handed us earplugs and pointed to the truck. "We need to be over there, far enough away from the blast wave." After we were at a safe distance, Lester handed me the toggle switch. "Make sure you have your mouth wide open when you flip that switch."
"Why?" I asked.
"It'll help equalize the pressure in your ear drums."
Sensing I had to do this alone, Les and Hector stood several feet away but close enough to offer support if needed. A feeling of peace came over me, much like when the orbs of light burst out of the cellar and lingered overhead. That might have all been in my head, no one else had seen them, but I'd felt the appreciation of the women then, and I felt them now. There was a strong link between us, even in death. We had been tortured, and they had been killed. They didn't have a voice anymore. It was up to me to complete this final act. I had a duty.
"I'm going to count down," Lester said. "When I say one, flip the switch. Okay?"
I nodded and then said, "Yes." This moment was too important for indecision.
"Five. Four. Three. Two. One."
The blast rumbled through the ground, and my ears rang as the ground inflated like a balloon and then sunk like a crater. It was over.
"Let me go check it out," Lester said after the dirt settled. After giving the all-clear, I walked closer.
"Are you okay, Angelita?" Hector asked.
"I am now."
To be continued in Book Three.
AN: Well, guys, that's a wrap for book two. Thank you all so much for the many reviews. They mean the world to me. They show me that you like this book and want more. If you haven't left a review yet or you're just now reading this book for the first time, please leave a review and let me know what you think.
Book three continues the storyline with the saboteurs. They will be dealt with, and so will Cole Reynolds. Stephanie will get a new partner, someone we have yet to meet. I think you'll like him. A former flame of Steph's will come back to town. Ranger won't be happy about that.
Please remember this five-book story arc spans around five years. Don't panic, though. No matter how clearly Steph tries to draw the friendship line with Ranger, it will always be blurry. That's just how it is when two people love each other, yet one denies their possible future.