James Patterson - Lifeguard

She was inside it, almost as if there were a tube. This is a ten . In the stillness, waiting for the wave to crash, she felt a hundred percent alive.

Finally the wave collapsed over her. She shot up, the kayak bucking in the air. She rode it for a few strokes, gliding in toward shore. Another wave bumped her from behind. Then Ellie slid up onto the beach. She shook the salt spray off her face.

A ten !

She thought about one more ride, then dragged the fiberglass craft out of the surf. She tucked it under her arm and headed back to the pink two-bedroom bungalow in Delray she rented, a block away.

These late-afternoon rides, after work, when the tide was high, were the only time Ellie could feel alone and free enough from the rest of the world to think. Really think. It was a bonus to moving down there: her own little world when something was troubling her. And it seemed as if everything were troubling her right now.

She knew Moretti wasn’t going to do crap about Stratton’s connection to Tess. They already had Ned wrapped up with a yellow ribbon. Fingerprints, a connection to the victims, kidnapping a federal officer.

Be a good little agent , Ellie said to herself. As Moretti said, this Tess McAuliffe thing, it wasn’t even their case.

Something drifted into her mind, something her grandfather used to say. He was one of those self-made men who had battled mobsters in the thirties. He called the bad guys “crumb-bums.” And he had built a small blouse factory into a large sportswear firm.

When life boxes you in a corner , he would always say, box back !

Ellie was sure that bastard Stratton was involved somehow. In the theft of his own art, maybe in Tess’s murder. The way he laughed at her, it was almost as if he were egging her on. Find something on me. I dare you .

So fi nd something, Ellie . She dragged the fiberglass kayak up to her porch.

Box back !

Like that’s so easy, right ? Still in her tight-fitting neoprene suit, Ellie rinsed the salt off the craft’s hull.

She was in the FBI, not the blouse business. There was a chain of command. She had this well-defined job. Someone she reported to. This wasn’t just some hunch she was following up on. This was going over people’s heads.

It was her career.

Ellie leaned the kayak against the wall and peeled off her rubber river shoes, shaking the spray out of her hair. That sure would be a waste of that fancy degree of yours, wouldn’t it ? Moretti had sniffed. She was losing ground with him every day. And Ned? Why was she doing this?

“What’re you trying to do,” she muttered, shaking her head, exasperated, “let this guy destroy your career?”

She heard a voice from behind, scaring the wits out of her. Ellie spun around.

“Be careful what you wish for, Ellie…You never know what the tide will roll in.”

“JESUS, NED !” Ellie’s eyes grew wide.

Or at least it looked like Ned, with his hair short and darker, and a four-day growth on his chin.

“Don’t be scared.” Ned put up his hand. “No abductions this time, Ellie. I swear.”

Ellie wasn’t scared. Just angry and aware this time. Her training kicked in. Her eyes darted to her holster on the coat-rack just inside the kitchen. This time, she was thinking, she was going to be the one in control.

She bolted toward the kitchen. Ned ran after, catching her by the arm. “Ellie, please…”

She spun wildly in his grasp. “Goddammit, Ned, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Guess I thought, given all the publicity” – he held back a smile – “your office just didn’t seem the place to meet.”

Ellie tried to pull away one more time, but he held her firmly, but not too hard. “I need to talk to you, Ellie. Just hear me out.”

She felt an urge to try and throw him, to go for the gun, but she had to admit that a tiny part of her was actually pleased, pleased that he was all right, anyway. That he was there. In her skintight suit, with his hand on her, she felt a little embarrassment take hold. She was blushing now. “What the hell are you doing, Ned?”

“I’m trusting you, Ellie. That’s what I’m doing. I’m showing you the new look. So what do you think?”

“I think when you get out of prison, you’ll be a helluva candidate for Extreme Makeover .” She pulled against him.

Ned relaxed his grip. “What I meant was, maybe you could start to trust me, too.”

She stood there, glaring at him. Part of her still wanted to make a run for the gun. The other part knew he wouldn’t even try to stop her. “It’s hard to trust you, Ned. Every time I do, someone else you’re connected to seems to turn up dead. You don’t just show up here like this. I’m a federal agent, not your AOL buddy. What the hell makes you think I won’t arrest you?”

“One thing,” he said, still holding her arm.

“What?” she asked, glaring back at him.

He let go of her arm. “I think you believe me, Ellie.”

Ellie took another quick glance toward the gun, but she knew it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going for it. Ned was right. She did believe him. She felt her body coil up with frustration. Then she finally gave in, staring into his eyes. “Did you kill that woman, Ned?”

“Tess?” He shook his head. “No.”

“And your brother? What happened to him?”

“All I did was go see him. That was after I met with my father. Ellie, my brother was dead when I got there. My brother , Ellie. Whoever did it was waiting for me. Nearly killed me, too. Someone sent him, Ellie. He thought I had the paintings. I still don’t even know who he was.”

“His name was Anson. He was a two-bit enforcer from south Florida with a record a mile long.”

“So, don’t you see… that proves it. Someone sent him from here .”

Ellie narrowed her eyes. “ You live in south Florida, don’t you, Ned?”

“You really think I knew him, Ellie?” He reached into his pocket and came out with a folded-up piece of paper. “Look, I have something to show you.”

She recognized it instantly. The page ripped out of the art book. Van Gogh’s Dr. Gachet .

“Dave was trying to show me this when he was killed. He wasn’t trying to turn me in. He was trying to help me, Ellie.” Ned’s eyes were like some helpless, pleading child’s. “I’ve got nowhere to go, Ellie. Gachet’s real . You have to help me find him.”

“I’m a federal agent, Ned. Don’t you get it?” She touched his arm. “I’m sorry about your brother. I truly am. But the only way I can help is for you to turn yourself in.”

“I think we both know it’s a little late for that.” Ned leaned back against the porch rail. “I know everyone figures I took the art. Tess, Dave… my prints are all over the place. You want the truth, Ellie. It’s not about that anymore – clearing myself. Whoever sent that sonuvabitch to kill Dave was looking for the art. We both know that no one’s going to continue looking if they have me.”

“Will you please get real, Ned.” Ellie felt tears of frustration biting at her eyes. “I can’t join up with you. I’m with the FBI.”

“Get real, huh, Ellie?” Ned seemed to sink. “You don’t think every day I wake up and wish this wasn’t real…” He backed off to the edge of the porch. “I made a mistake coming here.”

“Ned, please, you can’t go back out there now.”

“I’m gonna find out who set us up, Ellie.”

Ned jumped off the deck and Ellie realized her heart was beating wildly. She didn’t want him to leave. What could she do? Make a play for the gun. Was she going to shoot him?