Lifeguard

And I meant it.

Sol’s latest car pulled up – a Caddie. The driver hopped out.

“Don’t thank me so much,” he said as the driver opened the rear door, “as her.”

Ellie was sitting in the backseat.

“Oh God, you’re great,” I said. I jumped in beside her and gave her a hug. Best hug of my entire life. Then I looked at those deep blue eyes and kissed her on the lips. I didn’t care whether anybody saw, whether it was wrong or right.

“If you two lovebirds don’t mind,” Sol said, clearing his throat in the front seat, “it’s late, I’m a few thousand poorer on account of you, and we have work to do.”

“Work?”

“Why am I under the impression there was someone you wanted to nail for murder?”

I couldn’t contain the grin spreading across my face. I squeezed Sol’s arm. It was hard to explain how warm I felt inside – these two people standing up for me.

“I ?gure we can beat the press by going out the back way,” Sol said, nudging his driver. “You mind your old room back at the house?”

“You mean I can just go back to the house?”

“You’re free to go where you want, Ned,” Ellie said. “At least, until your trial. Mr. Roth here took responsibility for you.”

“So, don’t get any ideas.” He shot a stern look back at me. “Besides, you still owe me two hundred bucks. And I aim to collect.”

I couldn’t believe what was happening. I was numb. I’d felt hunted for so long. Now I had people who believed in me, who would ?ght for me.

We got back to Sol’s house in a few minutes. The gates to his estate swung open and the Caddie pulled into the bricked courtyard in front. Sol turned to me. “I think you’ll ?nd the place like when you left. In the morning, we’ll see about hooking you up with a good lawyer. That sound okay?”

“Yeah, Sol, that sounds great.”

“In that case, I’m going to bed,” he sighed. He said good night with a wink, and I was left with Ellie, staring up at my old place above the garage, realizing that for a few amazing moments, nobody was chasing me.

Ellie stood there, staring at me. There was an ocean breeze warming us through the swaying palms. For a second I drew her close and cupped her face in my hands. I wanted to tell her how much I appreciated what she’d done, but no words came out.

I bent and gave her another kiss. Her mouth was warm and moist, and this time there was nothing hesitant about it. When I was out of breath I pulled away. I let my hand linger on her breast. “So, Agent Shurtleff, what happens now?”

“Now,” Ellie said, “maybe we go upstairs, go over a few details about the case.”

“I thought that was wrong,” I said, taking her gently by the hand. I drew her close, felt her heart beating, felt her tight little body ?t into mine.

“Way wrong,” Ellie said, looking up at me, “but who’s counting now?”

Chapter 82

THERE WAS NO holding back this time. It was a struggle just to drag ourselves up the stairs. Our mouths were locked and we were pawing at each other’s clothing the second we stumbled through the door.

“What was it you wanted to discuss?” I said, and grinned, undoing the buttons on Ellie’s jacket.

“I don’t know…” she said. She wiggled out of her blouse. She had a wonderful body. I had seen it the day I caught her kayaking. This time I wanted all of it. I pulled her close to me.

“I want you to know,” she said, pulling at my belt, then tunneling her hand down my jeans. I was as hard as granite. “You’re still going to jail. No matter how good this is.”

“That’s not much incentive,” I said. My hands traveled down her spine and into her skirt. I eased the zipper down and helped her slink out of the skirt, until it fell to the ?oor.

“Try me,” Ellie said.

I picked her up in my arms and laid her softly on the bed. I kicked off my pants. She arched her back, slithered gracefully out of her panties, and smiled.

I held myself over her, our eyes locked. Every muscle in my body, every cell, was exploding with desire for this incredible girl. Her skin was smooth and soft; mine was sweaty and on ?re. She was taut, cut; small, tight muscles in her arms and thighs rocked against me with willowy restraint. She arched her spine.

“I can’t believe we’re really doing this,” I said.

“Tell me about it,” Ellie said.

I eased inside her. Ellie let out a whimper, a beautiful sound, and held on tight to my arms. She was so small and light, I could almost lift her. We rocked like the steady rhythm of the surf outside. I couldn’t help thinking, This is what it’s about, you lucky SOB. It’s about this wonderful gal who risked everything for you, who looked inside and saw what no one else was willing to see.

Now what are you going to do about it? How are you going to hold on to Ellie Shurtleff?

Chapter 83

THE WINDOW WAS OPEN, the moon was bright, and a breeze coming off the ocean was softly brushing us like a fan. We curled up against the pillows, too exhausted to move.

Not just from each other, from the three times Ellie and I had made love, but from the stress of all that had happened. And now, being there with Ellie. For a moment, feeling a million miles away from the case, I leaned my head against her shoulder.

“So, what do we do now?” I asked, Ellie balled up in my arms.

“You do what Sol said,” she answered. “You get yourself a great lawyer. You stay out of trouble for a change. Tend to your case. With what they have on you, Ned, with a clean record, you’re looking at maybe a year – eighteen months, max.”

“You’ll wait for me, Ellie?” I tickled her, teasing her with pillow talk.

She shrugged. “Unless another case turns up and I meet someone else. This kind of thing, you just never know.”

We laughed, and I drew her in to me. But I guess it was dawning on me that I was thinking about something else. I was going to jail. And Stratton had manipulated everything. Perfectly.

“Answer me something – you trust the Palm Beach cops to see this through? Lawson? What about your own out?t, Ellie? Moretti?”

“There may be someone I can trust,” she said. “A Palm Beach detective. I don’t think he’s under Lawson’s thumb. Or Stratton’s.”

“I still have a chip to play,” I said. She looked at me, eyes wide. “My father…”

“Your father? You didn’t give him up to the police?”

I shook my head. “Nope. You?”

Ellie stared blankly. She didn’t answer, but I could see in her still face that she hadn’t.

She stared into my eyes. “I’m thinking we’re missing something. What Liz said in the car. Only one painting was stolen. And, ‘You’re the art expert. Why do you think he calls himself Gachet?’”

“What is it about this Gachet? What’s so special?”

“It was one of the last paintings van Gogh ever did. In June 1890, only a month before he killed himself. Gachet was a doctor who used to stop in on him, in Auvers. You saw the picture. He’s sitting at a table, in his cap, head