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“Meaning?”

“I went slumming in downtown Seattle last night.” Mac could only hope that by hinting around, he could imply that he knew a great deal more than he actually did. “Does the murder of Steven Miles jog any memories? And the death of a certain professional? If the wrong people get wind of that, things could become very uncomfortable for you.”

The silence on the other end of the line stretched into infinity. “Leak it to the cops and the kid's dead.”

Mac swallowed down an upsurge of anger. “I have no intention of leaking anything. We need more time. And to borrow your phrase, I'm playing my trump. Cooperation's the name of this game. Now do we get some leeway here, or not?”

“Another forty-eight hours. And that's it. If you don't come through by then, Mrs. Christiani will be the one who receives a package. A small one, to start. Would her daughter's little finger motivate her, do you think?”

Mac heard a whimper erupt from Mallory. Sweat popped out on his face. He wanted to shove the phone down Lucetti's throat. “Put the child on the phone. I stress this. If I don't talk to her, if I'm not completely satisfied that she's not only alive but in good spirits, I phone the cops. In short, you'd better treat that little girl like she's made of glass. Got it?”

“I'll call back.”

The line went abruptly dead. Mac hung up and turned to look at Mallory. She stood near him, her face blanched pasty white, her eyes gigantic. She looked like she'd topple if he touched a finger to her forehead. Mac closed the distance between them and enfolded her in his arms even though he had sworn off any further physical contact with her. Four o'clock that morning seemed like a lifetime ago. She felt so small and insubstantial. He tightened his embrace, hunched his shoulders around her and buried his face in her hair.

“It's okay. Just threats. He won't really do it.”

“H-her finger? Oh, Mac...” Her voice trailed off into a wail. She clutched his shirt so hard that he felt her nails dig into his skin. “What am I going to do?”

“Mallory, it's all right. Shh. Don't let him do this to you.”

Unable to think of anything else to say, Mac simply held her, stroking her hair, swaying with her from side to side, keeping his arms cinched tight as if he could pour his strength into her. When the phone rang, he lowered her onto a chair.

“You want to talk to her?”

She covered her face with trembling hands and gave her head a vehement shake. “In a minute. I don't want to f-frighten her.”

Mac stepped to the phone, lifted the receiver and said hello. A brief silence ensued. Then Em's hesitant voice came over the wire. “Where's my mommy? Do I have the wrong house?”

That voice reached right down inside Mac and wrapped itself around his heart. He closed his eyes and smiled. “This must be Em. I'm Mac, your mommy's friend.”

Another silence. “A boyfriend?” she asked, clearly amazed.

Mac's smile widened. “Sort of.”

“Do you have hair?”

That question took him aback for a moment. “Um—yeah, I have hair.”

“Oh, good. Gerald didn't. I didn't want a new daddy who didn't have hair so Mommy stopped bringing him. Gramps said he was stuffy, anyway.”

Good for Keith. “How are you, Emily? Are the people there treating you nice?”

“Yeah, but I still wish Gramps would get well so I could come home. The lady where I'm at brings me movies and ice cream, but it's not fun like it is with Mommy. I don't have my Pooh bag and I miss Ragsdale.”

The child evidently still believed she was staying away from home because her grandfather was still in the hospital. “Your mommy's been really busy,” Mac replied. “She couldn't get away to bring you Ragsdale.”

“Is my Gramps real sick?”

“He's a little better, but still very weak.”

“Can I say hi to my mommy, please?”

Mac glanced toward Mallory. She was so white, she looked as though she might faint, but she stood and came to take the phone. In a tremulous voice, she said, “Hi, princess. How's my favorite girl?”

“Fine. Do I get to see you today?”

Mallory closed her eyes. “Not today, darling, but soon.”

“Tomorrow, then?” Em whispered something and the line crackled. “I have to go, Mommy. Would you bring me quarters when you come so I can talk a long time? I love you. Don't forget Ragsdale, okay? Bye.”

“I love you, too, Em.” Mallory tightened her grip on the phone. Mac heard more rustling noises coming over the wire. The next moment, Lucetti's voice rasped over the speaker. “Forty-eight hours, same place, same time of morning.” Lucetti punctuated the order with a click of the phone. Mac sighed and cast a concerned glance at Mallory as she dropped the receiver into its cradle. She was still shaking.

“I want to try questioning Keith again,” she said. “There m-must be a way to set up some s-sort of signal. There has to be. I'll call his physician and get special permission for you to enter the ICU.”

“Are you sure you want to take that risk? If he realizes Em's been kidnapped, it might make him worse.”

She nodded. “If something happens to her, he'll n-never forgive me for not at least trying.”

Mac wasn't as concerned about Keith's feelings as he was about Mallory's. If questioning the older man caused a second stroke, she would spend the rest of her life blaming herself for it. On the other hand, if they didn't question Keith, and Emily was killed... Mac shuddered. Just talking to the child for a few minutes, he had completely lost his heart to her. And if he felt that strong a pull, what must Mallory be feeling?

* * *

T
HE
MOMENT
THEY
stepped into the ICU, Keith's eyes filled with apprehension. Mallory caught her lower lip between her teeth and approached the bed. As before, Keith's hand felt cold when she grasped it. Was it her imagination, or was he thinner? The network of bones in his hand felt fragile. Mallory tried to smile and failed miserably. Keith's mouth drew down at one corner and he moaned, glancing pleadingly at Mac.

“Dad,” Mallory began hesitantly. “I, um, want you to stay calm, okay? I have something to tell you—bad news, I'm afraid.” She hesitated to let that sink in. “Em's been kidnapped.”

Keith shrank into the mattress like a deflated doll, his eyes falling closed.

“She's safe. We spoke to her just a few minutes ago. They're giving her ice cream and showing her movies. She sounded fine.” Mallory took a deep breath. “In exchange for her return, Lucetti is demanding a package. He believes it's in your safe-deposit box at the bank. We, um, are having some difficulty finding the box key.”

Keith's eyes flew open. He looked imploringly at Mac. Leaning forward, Mac grasped his shoulder. “You can count on me, Keith. I'll get her home, safe and sound.”

Mallory took another deep, bracing breath. “We're hoping to set up some kind of signal with you so that you can give us some hints as to where the key might be.”

Keith kept his gaze glued to Mac and moaned. The sound was so pitiful that Mallory flinched.

“Anyway, I came up with an idea. I know that you can't control your eyelids enough to blink just once. We tried that last night. But if you could only blink when you mean yes and try your best not to let your eyelids close when your answer is no, maybe we can ask you enough questions to find the key. Do you think you could do that?”

Keith blinked in rapid succession. Mallory threw Mac a joyful glance. “Oh, Dad, that's great.”

Mac drew up a chair and sat down. Mallory lifted Keith's hand to enfold it in hers. “Dad, it's crucial that you stay calm through this. We don't want to hurt you, you know. So before we start, I want to assure you that Emily will be fine. Mac dug up some dirt on Lucetti, so he doesn't harm her. If he does, he knows we'll have him arrested. So there's no reason to feel frightened for her, okay?”

Keith's eyelids fluttered and Mac smiled encouragement to Mallory. “Okay,” she said, “if you get tired, just keep your eyes closed and we'll let you rest. First question. Is the package in your safe-deposit box?”

Keith blinked furiously.

“Okay, so all we have to do is find the key.” Mallory glanced at Mac. “Is the key at the house?”

No blinking.

“Not at the house. Okay. Is it at your office?”

No.

“Is it in your car?”

No.

“Is it in Bellevue?”

No blinking. Mallory began to squirm. This yes and no questioning could only go so far.
Please, God.

“Is it in Seattle?”

Keith's eyes went crazy and he moaned.

“Now, Dad, stay calm,” she reminded him. “Don't become frustrated. Remember that every answer you give us eliminates a wild-goose chase and brings us one step closer to finding the key. Think of it positively, even if you can't tell us everything you'd like.” A frown drew her brows together. “Is it in another safe-deposit box in Seattle?”

No.

“In a locker at the bus depot?”

No.

“At the airport?”

No.

Keith was breathing heavily now, his air rasping as it went down his throat. Mallory glanced at the monitor. His pulse had accelerated. “Mac, it's about time for him to rest,” she warned.

Mac rose from his chair to place a staying hand on her shoulder, his gaze intent on Keith's. “Just one more question. Did you give it to a friend?”

Keith's eyelids fluttered wildly and his bottom lip twisted in a grotesque grin as he tried desperately to say something.

“Okay—okay, relax, Keith,” Mac said soothingly. “It's with a friend. That's something for us to go on. The rest is elementary. We'll just get on the horn and start calling people. Did you tell this friend not to give the key to anyone?”

No.

“That's great,” Mac said enthusiastically. “Now all we have to do is find the friend. There can't be that many people you trust that much.”

Keith looked so tormented that Mallory wished they hadn't come. “Dad, you have to stay calm.”

The ICU nurse came bustling in just then. Her blue eyes shot daggers at Mac as she came around the end of the bed. “He's going to have to rest now. I'll have to ask you to leave.”

Mac leaned over Keith. “Trust me. I'll find it. We'll try to get word to you as soon as we have news. Meanwhile, remember one thing. When I needed you, you were there. This is my chance to pay you back. I'll come through for you. You've got my word on it. So don't worry, okay? Concentrate on getting well.”

* * *

A
S
THEY
EXITED
the hospital, Mallory glanced up and spied tears glistening in Mac's eyes. To her surprise, he made no effort to conceal them. When one escaped and trailed down his cheek, he wiped it away, throwing her a rueful smile.

“I love that old man,” he muttered. “It kills me, seeing him like that. I hated upsetting him. Makes me feel like I ran the knife in deeper and gave it a twist.”

“I know what you mean,” she said in a tight voice.

“No. I don't think anyone can.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “He's—” He shook his head. “To me, he's the father I never had.”

“What was the favor he did for you?”

He shoved his hands deep into his slacks pockets. “Put my life back together for me. Have you ever been completely alone?”

Mallory hadn't been, but she understood now what he meant, better than he knew. If not for Mac, she would have been alone since Em's abduction. Alone and desperate.

“So alone that there's no hope, no way out? I—” He took a ragged breath. “Someone I loved got killed. My brother. We'd had an argument. I was working to put him through school. He was throwing four years of my life away, his grades going to hell, his attitude disintegrating. I had put up with all I was going to. He left in a rage. Got drunk. Killed himself in a car. I blamed myself. Couldn't forget the ugly things I had said. I felt like I had driven him to it.”

Randy.
Mallory averted her face.

“I started drinking. I know that sounds weak, but I was young, confused—I think I wanted to die, too. I'd sit by his grave, me and my whiskey bottle, and stare at his name until I got so blasted I couldn't read it anymore. When my poor mother was at her wit's end, she called Keith Christiani. He found me. Took me to a hotel. Threw me in a cold shower. And made me so miserable I sobered up in self-defense. It took him a while, but he finally made me see that I wasn't to blame, that I couldn't have stopped what happened, even if I'd seen it coming.”

“He's a wonderful man,” Mallory whispered. “A loving man.”

Mac sighed, a shaky, wet sound. “I never knew my biological father. Maybe it sounds corny, but Keith's the only person besides my mother who ever believed in me. Because he had been so fond of my brother and knew I had worked to put him through school, he saw something worthwhile in me that I had never been able to see. He stuck his neck out for me, not once but a dozen times. When I didn't have confidence, he had enough for both of us. If not for him, I'd be— You said once that I didn't owe him my life? I do, Mallory, I really do.”

She at last found the courage to face him. “Add another person to that list.”

“What list?”

“Of people who believe in you.” She felt tears welling in her own eyes. “Make that two people. I have a feeling Em will want to be on it one day.”

When they reached the BMW, Mac checked the car over for explosives. When he found nothing, he waved Mallory in on her side, then climbed behind the wheel and cranked the engine. He didn't seem to want to talk about Keith anymore. She didn't, either. It could lead too easily into a discussion of Randy.