The Ideal Man (12 page)

Ellie passed a large, slouch-shouldered Hispanic man wearing a tank top and jeans. He was handcuffed to his chair and sat next to a detective who was typing a report into his computer. She noticed a woman and a little boy anxiously watching the proceedings from a bench across the room and assumed they were related. The man’s head was bent as he grumbled answers to the detective’s questions.

Ellie walked by the man and paused momentarily. She also noticed something else, backtracked to get a better look, then continued on to the back of the room where Wahlberg and Ben waited. Wahlberg courteously pulled a chair out while Ben placed two binders on the desk in front of her. He opened one to a page of mug shots. After getting instructions from Wahlberg, Ellie proceeded to study the faces on each page.

Every few minutes she looked up to see what was happening with the man sitting with the detective. There wasn’t any question what she had to do. When she saw the detective unlock the handcuffs, she pushed her chair back, stood, and said, “Excuse me a minute.”

Ben started to follow her, but she raised her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

“What’s she doing?” Wahlberg asked.

“I don’t know,” Ben replied.

Ellie didn’t have any idea how the man would react, but it was her responsibility to talk to him.

“This is your lucky day, Carlos Garcia,” the detective was saying as she approached. “I’m gonna let you go, but I won’t be so lenient next time.”

As soon as Carlos stood, so did his wife and child. Ellie walked around the desk to face the man.

“I’d like to have a word with you in private.”

Carlos looked wary at first, then angry at the request. The detective stood and asked, “What do you need with him? Maybe I could help you?”

“No,” she answered. She thrust her hand out to Carlos, all but grabbing his to shake it.

“Who are you?” he asked, glancing at his wife and then back to her. “Did I do something to you?”

“No,” she assured him. “Would you mind following me? It will only take a minute.”

She didn’t wait for his response but walked toward the corner of the room. Carlos followed.

“Look, lady, I don’t know what you think—”

She interrupted. “My name is Dr. Sullivan,” she began.

And that was all the detective who had been working with Carlos heard. The rest of the conversation was spoken in such a low voice he couldn’t catch a word. A few moments later Carlos called his wife over, and she was included in the conversation. She nodded as she listened to what Ellie was saying, looking more and more worried.

“What is she doing?” Wahlberg asked the question again.

Ben shrugged. He watched Ellie lean over the desk, grab a piece of paper, and write on it before handing it to Carlos.

Ellie put her hand on Carlos’s shoulder. “This isn’t going to cost you anything. I promise. The doctor owes me. Just promise me you’ll go soon. I’ll make sure he works you in. My cell phone number is on the bottom,” she added, looking at his wife. “If there is any problem, you call me.”

Both Carlos and his wife shook her hand. Ellie even shook the little boy’s hand.

“Okay then,” Ben heard her say as she walked back to him.

Without a word of explanation, she resumed her inspection of the photos.

“Ellie?”

She looked up. “Yes?”

“Did you know that man?”

“No, I didn’t,” she replied as she turned the page.

“Why did you talk to him?” Wahlberg wondered.

“I needed to,” she answered, but she didn’t say another word about the matter.

She wasn’t going to explain that, as she walked past Carlos, she had noticed the mole on the back of his neck and, upon closer inspection, was 95 percent certain it was a melanoma. It needed to be checked as soon as possible.

Carlos’s wife had told Ellie she, too, had noticed it, and that she was sure it hadn’t been there long. That was a good sign. Hopefully, if it was melanoma, it would be caught before it spread throughout the body. Ellie wanted her diagnosis to be wrong, but she doubted it was.

Both agents let the matter drop. Ben pulled up a chair and began to answer some texts as he waited.

Ellie turned a page and continued to examine the pictures of some of the homeliest and most terrifying men and women she’d ever seen. And that was saying something considering the number of gangbangers she’d put back together.

Her phone beeped that she had a text, and she paused to respond to it. When she was finished, she turned to Ben. “Your wife says hello.”

He grinned. “What’s she worried about today?”

“Diet,” she answered. “And just for the record, I like hearing from her, so don’t tease her when you get home.”

“I won’t,” he promised.

Ellie turned back to the photos.

“Look who’s here,” Wahlberg said. “I knew Hughes couldn’t stay away. And that must be the guy who was in the park and says he saw the Landrys.”

She looked up to see two men coming toward her. The one leading the way appeared to be in his early forties, but his hair was prematurely gray and his face was creased with deep frown lines that suggested he was not used to smiling often. He carried himself with authority, so she suspected he was Hughes, the agent she’d been warned about. With him was a younger man with a lanky build. His long hair was combed forward, concealing his forehead and nearly covering his eyes. And right behind them was Max.

Her heart skipped a beat. Damn it, she thought she wouldn’t see him after last night. Now she had to go through the angst again?

Oh no, she wouldn’t, she decided. She would choose not to be affected by him.

Great plan, lousy follow-through. Her stupid heart was racing by the time he reached her. It didn’t help that he was dressed in a pair of jeans and a gray T-shirt that showed off the muscles in his chest and upper arms.

Stop noticing
, she told herself. She said hello and quickly returned to the mug shots. She would rather have stared at Max, but then who wouldn’t?
Ignore him
, her better judgment told her. That was the key to averting a heart attack. A heart attack? The possibility of such a thing happening was so absurd she couldn’t help but smile.

“What are you smiling about?” Ben asked.

“These lovely photos.”

Agent Hughes came around the desk to face her. “We haven’t been introduced,” he said. “Don’t get up,” he added as he extended his hand.

He was a polite but extremely stiff man, Ellie decided. The job showed on his face, but he seemed pleasant enough and not as overbearing as Max had suggested.

“Have you looked through that book yet? Did you really examine each picture?” Hughes asked her.

“She just got started,” Ben said.

“You should probably back off,” Max added with some irritation in his tone. “Let her look at the mug shots without any pressure.”

“Introduce me to the lady,” the young man standing next to Max requested. “My name’s Greg,” he said as his eyes scanned her body from head to toe.

She started to say, “Ellie,” but Max was quicker. “She’s Dr. Sullivan.”

“What kind of a doctor are you?” Greg asked.

“Why don’t you go sit at that desk over there and start looking through the binder,” Max suggested. He stood directly behind Ellie and casually placed his hands on her shoulders. “Or you could look at the photos on the computer. Your choice.”

“I’ll do what she’s doing,” Greg said. “In fact, why don’t I sit next to her, and we can go through the pictures together.”

“That’s not how this is gonna work,” Max said. “Go sit.”

“Ellie, have you looked through this entire binder?” Hughes asked. And before she could answer, he said, “Maybe you ought to start over.”

“Why don’t you go sit with Greg,” Ben said, “and let Ellie look without any prodding.”

Hughes raised a hand. “Okay, okay. Just make sure she—” “Enough already,” Max snapped.

“Do you want to tell her what page the Landrys are on?” Ben asked.

Hughes shook his head and crossed the room to get some coffee but turned back to say, “Maybe we should just put six or seven photos on the table like we usually do . . . maybe . . .”

“You can’t change the set now. Let her look.”

Ellie felt as though she were in the middle of some macho competition. Hughes’s demeanor had become so intense, she was glad he was going to give her some space, but she did start over on the first page. She paused halfway through and tapped a photo. “I remember him. He came through the OR last year. Switchblade nicked the lateral thoracic artery. It was a tough surgery.”

“Don’t nicks in arteries bleed out quickly?” Ben asked.

“Not when the surgeon has her finger on it holding it together.”

“You did that?”

She nodded as she studied more faces. Three pages later she tapped another photo. “Two bullets in the stomach. Horrible recovery.”

And on it went. Twice more she pointed to photos and described the surgeries.

Max leaned against the desk. He watched her look at both Cal and Erika Landry’s photos, which Hughes had inserted among the other mug shots, and there was absolutely no recognition on her part.

He went to Hughes and gave him the bad news, that Ellie hadn’t been able to identify the Landrys.

Hughes couldn’t hide his disappointment. “Have her look again,” he insisted. “Maybe she was distracted when she—”

“She’s gone through them twice now. She’s not gonna be a witness, so she doesn’t go on the list.”

Ellie wasn’t paying any attention to the raised voices. She received two texts back to back. She read the first and decided to ignore it, but the second text was more insistent. Dr. Westfield wanted to make a deal. If she would come in and do a colon resection for him, he would let today be her last day at the hospital. The offer was too good to resist. Since Westfield didn’t need her in the OR until five o’clock and the patient was stable, she texted to say she would do it.

“Okay, Ellie, you’re done here,” Agent Hughes reluctantly told her.

She stood, slipped her phone into her purse and, trying to ignore Max, said, “It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen.”

She turned to leave but stopped, realizing she hadn’t driven her car to the station.

“I need a ride home.”

Every man in the room immediately offered to take her. Greg was the most vocal and leapt to his feet. “I’ll drive you, and maybe we could stop for lunch.”

Max shoved him back in the chair. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Ben was intrigued by Max’s behavior. He apparently had decided he didn’t like or trust Greg, and that didn’t make any sense at all. Then he noticed the way Max was looking at Ellie. Ah, now he understood. Damn, he was slow today. He should have picked up on the signal much earlier. He stood and fished the keys out of his pocket and started toward Ellie, but Max stopped him.

“I’ve got this,” Max muttered. He took Ellie’s arm and practically pulled her across the room toward the stairs.

“It’s amazing,” Ellie whispered so only he could hear.

“What?”

“One minute you’re this aloof federal agent, and the next you’re Neanderthal man.”

He flashed a smile. “I just want to get you out of here before Hughes shoves the Landry photos in your face.”

Once they were in his car and on their way, she said, “Maybe Greg will be able to identify the Landrys.”

“Yeah, maybe. He says he got a good look at Cal before he put on the sunglasses.”

“Are you going to tell him witnesses have a way of disappearing?”

“Hughes will talk to him.”

“When does your flight leave?”

“In a day or two. It depends on how much we need to do here.”

She hated that she was going to have to say good-bye again. No kisses this time, she vowed, and no angst.

“I forgot to say good-bye to Ben,” she remarked.

“I’ll tell him. Listen, Ellie . . .”

“Yes?”

“I’m not forgetting about Evan Patterson. I will find him, and as soon as I do, I’ll call you.”

“Maybe he’s back in a mental ward somewhere,” she suggested.

“I’m checking,” he promised.

He pulled up to her building.

“I’m not going inside,” she told him as she unhooked her seat belt. She fished her car keys from her purse and got out before he turned off the motor.

“You be careful,” she said in farewell. She was able to stop herself before she added, “Chasing bad guys.” How lame would that have been?

He didn’t say good-bye to her. At least she didn’t think he did, but then she practically dived into her car and drove away. She forced herself not to look in the rearview mirror, and after she’d turned the corner, she sighed. Not too awkward, she decided. But in the back of her mind an unwanted thought nagged at her. She should have slept with him.

G
reg Roper was a dream come true. Agent Hughes was overjoyed to have found such a strong witness to testify against the Landrys. The twenty-six-year-old had come forward the day after the shooting and had told Hughes he had seen both Cal and Erika Landry in the park.

When Hughes met Roper at the police station to look at the photos Sunday afternoon, the agent had his suspicions that Roper was a bit of a flake because of the way he kept hitting on Ellie Sullivan, but as soon as she left the station, Roper got down to business and quickly pointed out the suspects.

As far as Hughes was concerned, Roper was an ideal witness. He had never had any trouble with the police, had never even gotten a speeding ticket, and he had held down a good job for more than four years. Most important to Hughes was the fact that Roper wasn’t at all ambivalent about what he saw. He explained that he was crossing the park and was taking a shortcut through a thicket of shrubbery to get to his car when he saw Erika Landry. She was sitting in the passenger seat of a big Mercedes that was driving slowly down the street.