Husband by Choice

This wasn’t about Steve.

“You do know Dr. Bennet?” The officer was back again.

“Sir, I think it might be best if you take a seat.” Lila’s voice came from her right. The officer was on her left. And Jenna was scared to death.

* * *

“THANKS, WAYNE.”

Max stood, hands in the pockets of his purple scrubs, picking at the threads there, while Chantel took the call that had just come in on her phone. Presumably her cop friend on the Santa Raquel police force.

The officer who’d discovered earlier that day that a fellow officer had seen Meredith on Sunday. The one who owed Chantel a favor.

He’d spent a couple of hours going over business surveillance footage nearby the stop where Meredith had vacated the bus.

He’d been going to talk to Meredith.

And then call Chantel. Who wouldn’t tell Max where she was.

If she was in a hospital, he’d find out soon enough. As soon as Chantel got off the phone and gave him whatever report she was going to

give him.

He was a respected pediatrician who worked with all of the area hospitals, not only the two in Santa Raquel, but those in surrounding cities, as well. His consultation work took him as far as Los Angeles.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow,” Chantel was saying.

Max waited. Staring at the laces in his orange tennis shoes as he rocked back and forth on his toes. The high-tops matched the orange-and-purple dinosaur shirt he was wearing.

Color put kids at ease. Put him at ease, too, truth be told. Because some days weren’t good. Some days he had to cause pain to make things better. And some days even painful treatments couldn’t save a life.

“I will. And yes, lunch sounds great.”

He’d lost a patient that day. A youngster who’d been born premature, had experienced a brain bleed at birth and had suffered permanent neurological damage. The boy had had little chance to survive from the beginning, but he’d hung on for more than two years.

“No, burgers are fine. Really.”

Tommy was at peace. His parents were at peace.

Max still felt as if he’d let them down.

And Chantel was discussing burgers.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHANTEL STOOD AS she hung up the phone. With her hands on her hips, hips that looked smaller in the jeans she was wearing than they did in the uniform she’d arrived in the week before, she faced Max toe-to-toe.

“Wayne spoke with Meredith.”

His shoulders sank. Every bit of nervous energy drained out of him, and Max knew a second of sheer relief.

It was only then that he consciously acknowledged that deep down inside he’d been afraid that Steve had killed her—his sweet, beautiful, vulnerable wife.

“Where is she?” he asked as the tension seeped back.

“I can’t tell you,” she said, looking him straight in the eye.

“But, obviously, since Wayne had just gotten off duty when he went to see her, she’s still close by.”