Julie Garwood - The Ideal Man

He was in a hurry, she reminded herself. Otherwise, he surely would have said something sweet in parting, wouldn’t he? Come to think of it, Max had never said anything sweet to her in the past, so why would she think he would start now?

Since she had left her car in the Wheatleys’ garage, she took a cab to their house and then decided she might as well spend the night. Millie and Oliver wanted to hear all about her visit home. Ellie glossed over the horror that had taken place inside the Winston Falls hospital. She told them that Patterson was dead and that she hoped he was finally at peace.

Then she told them about Ava’s garden party, and by the time she finished, they were laughing so hard, tears streamed down their cheeks.

Millie kept saying, “Poor Ava,” and then she’d go into fits of laughter again.

After dinner, Ellie went up to her room and called Ava. Her sister, as cranky as she was, deserved a little sympathy.

Ava answered with, “What do you want?”

“Don’t be rude, Ava. Patterson’s dead.”

“I heard.”

“It would have been a wonderful garden party.”

Ava agreed and began to talk about the details for the wedding. “I didn’t mean what I said about staying away. I still expect you to be in the wedding.”

Ellie didn’t make any promises. She listened as Ava described the flowers and the music and even the table settings for the reception. Ellie knew what she was going to have to do, spend a fortune on another airline ticket, put on a black dress, and walk down the aisle for her sister. It didn’t matter whether Ellie wanted to or not; it was the right thing to do.

She was glad she went. It was a quick and expensive weekend by Ellie’s standards, but she was happy she got to spend more time with Annie and her parents. Her mother was thrilled that Ellie had stopped being stubborn and had finally agreed to be in Ava’s wedding. Ava did make a beautiful bride. She was still obnoxious, but beautiful, all the same.

Once Ellie was back in her apartment, she became restless and out of sorts. She could go anywhere and do anything now that she wasn’t hiding from Patterson. There was only one little problem-she didn’t have the faintest idea where she belonged. And oh God, how she missed Max.

She went back to the familiar. Dr. Westfield patted her on her shoulder, which was an effusive gesture for him, and said, “Well done, Prod, well done.”

“Sir, now that I’ve won the Chapman, will you please stop calling me Prod.”

Because he was so happy about the money his department would receive, in a weak moment, he agreed. He also accepted the fact that she wasn’t going to sign a contract but would fill in for a little while.

“We’ll do week by week until you come to your senses and sign a contract,” Westfield said, always wanting to have the last word.

One week passed and then another, and still no word from Max. Ellie went though all the emotions: anger, frustration, misery, and anger again.

Addison texted her on a regular basis-they were becoming good friends-but the only comment she’d made about Max was that he and Ben were doing undercover work for what Ben had told her was a special project.

At least once a day, Ellie told herself she was over him, and she desperately wanted to believe that, someday, it would be true.

She threw herself into her work. It was late on a Thursday afternoon, and she had just finished removing a ruptured gallbladder from a knife attack. She was heading to her locker to change when she saw Carlos Garcia’s wife in the waiting room. She went in to say hello. The news was good, but Carlos had to go through a round of chemo before he could be released from the hospital. Ellie walked into his private room just as he was waking up. She was pleased to hear that his doctors were treating him so well. Amazing what a little blackmail could do.

Ellie was able to get through the days without thinking about Max, but as soon as she got home, he jumped into her thoughts. Sleep became difficult, a problem she had never had before. Misery. The word was synonymous with Max Daniels.

Max was having a hell of a great day. Seeing Cal and Erika Landry down on their knees with their hands cuffed behind their backs was a thing of beauty.

Seven federal agents and twelve policemen surrounded the couple. The dealers, eight of them, were facedown on the cement floor with their hands behind their backs, but without a doubt, the Landrys were the stars of the show.

“Are you going to try to put hits out on all of us?” Ben asked. He was so happy, he couldn’t stop smiling.

“I think they’ve run out of hit men,” Max said.

Five crates filled with weapons and explosives-some he and Max had never seen before-were being opened and inspected. None of them would reach the streets now, and he was confident Cal and Erika Landry were going away for a long, long time.

Using his phone, Max took a photo of the unhappy couple as they screamed obscenities and claimed entrapment. He sent the photo to Agent Sean Goodman and Agent Rob Hughes.

Exactly one minute after receiving the picture, Agent Hughes was on the line. Max explained to the flabbergasted agent that he had been kept out of the loop because there was a leak in his office. At first, Hughes didn’t take the news well, denying any possibility that there could be a traitor among his ranks. Max told him what the investigation by the special task force had turned up, that one of the assistants in Hughes’s office was selling information to the Landrys for sizable amounts of money, but Hughes was still skeptical. However, when Max named the assistant and the number of cash payments that had been traced to a hidden account, Hughes relented. He was sickened that he hadn’t been more astute. Max told Hughes that special agents from the task force would appear in his office momentarily to make the arrest, and Hughes agreed to assist.

The next day Hughes was on a plane to Honolulu. Since he had been chasing the Landrys for years and had the longest history with the facts, he was needed to help prepare the case. The FBI and the federal prosecutors were determined to leave no stone unturned. After looking at all the new evidence, Hughes strongly urged they add other counts to the weapons charges. With the testimony of Willis Cogburn, he insisted, they should be able to add on convictions for the attempted murder of Sean Goodman and also for ordering the murder of Dr. Ellie Sullivan.

“I want to get them for all of it,” he said.

The prosecuting attorney agreed.

“Willis Cogburn testifies and then goes into witness protection,” he suggested.

“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,” the prosecutor said. “There’s no way a judge will allow these two to get out on bail to do their dirty work this time. We’ll watch them closely. Potential witnesses won’t have to be afraid. Dr. Eleanor Sullivan will have to testify, and I want Agent Goodman on call. Get all of them over here as soon as possible. The preliminary trial date has been moved up. Landrys’ gaggle of attorneys isn’t objecting.”

“Why aren’t they?” Max asked.

The attorney shook her head. “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

Max and Ben celebrated the arrest of the Landrys over a couple of beers at their favorite bar, and Max showed him the picture he’d taken of the angry couple as they knelt in front of the agents and policemen with drawn guns.

“I wish you’d gotten one of their faces when the agents first rushed into that warehouse,” Ben said. “Their expressions were priceless.”

“They looked shocked, all right,” Max said. “I especially liked the way Erika tried to feign innocence at first. I fully expected her to say she had no idea how those guns got there.”