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Mac stood and reached for his jacket where it was draped over the back of the chair. After slipping it on, he began gathering the papers on the bed.

“Where do you think you're going?”

“To put this in my safe.”

“Not without me, you aren't.”

He groaned. “Mallory, I'd like to keep you out of this for now. The less you know, the safer you are.”

“You can't keep me out of it. I'm already in up to my neck. Em's
my
daughter, not yours.”

“Do you realize how dangerous this could be?” he asked. “Just getting to my office will be a feat in itself. We're not only going to have to make certain we're not tailed, but after we get there, we have to be sure no one's staking out the building.”

“Then I'll come in handy, won't I? You'll be needing a second pair of eyes. As for anyone who might be watching the building? If we see someone we'll just call the police and report a nutcase in the building who's wearing nothing but a raincoat who's hiding and leaping out at women. Not even Lucetti's goons would be stupid enough to make a move on us when the place is crawling with cops.”

Mac couldn't keep from grinning. “You have a devious streak, don't you?”

“You're just now realizing that? Either you're slow, Mac, or I haven't been performing up to my usual standards since we've been hanging around together.”

* * *

A
HALF
HOUR
LATER
, Mac was sitting at his desk, addressing a large manila envelope to Scotty Herman. Inside were copies of the ledgers, which Mallory had helped make, and all of Miles's correspondence to Keith, which was self-explanatory. Mac knew he could count on Scotty to get the evidence into the right hands. And with mail time delaying things, Scotty wouldn't receive it until well after Em and Mallory were safely away. There was no risk this way of cops on the take reporting back to Carmichael and endangering either of them.

Mac tossed his pen on his desk and rose from his chair. He had sent Mallory up the hall to a pop machine so he could fill out the address on the envelope while she was out of the room. She'd be back soon. Picking up the package, he hurried out into the hall and dropped the envelope into the mail drop. Because Mallory had insisted on coming, Mac had had no choice but to let her know he had made copies, but he didn't dare tell her who he was sending them to. Number one, she'd be upset, fearing the wrong people in the precinct would get hold of them. And he also had to think of Scotty's safety. If something went wrong and Mallory didn't escape with Em, Carmichael was probably an expert at making people talk. As long as Mallory didn't know who would receive the copies, Scotty wouldn't be endangered.

Returning to the office, Mac gave the room a long, slow study, committing it to memory. This might be the last time he ever stood in here. He had a lot of good memories. His gaze drifted to the clutter on top of his desk. If he had time, he would clean it up. Less mess for someone else to sort through. A grin tilted his mouth. Might as well go out like he had lived. Why disappoint everybody?

He sighed and glanced at the telephone. It reminded him he still had to get to a pay phone and call Shelby. He was the one person Mac trusted enough to take care of Em and Mallory.

* * *

“A
NY
PROBLEMS
?” Mallory stepped into the room just as Mac glanced away from the phone. She popped the seal on a can of Coke and set it on the desk for him.

Mac avoided looking at her. He had never been good at deceptions. “None. One package is in the mail. The other is in the safe. All I have left to do is make arrangements with Shelby.”

“Who did you send the copies to?”

Mac smiled ruefully. Count on Mallory to ask the one question he had hoped she wouldn't. “I can't tell you that.”

He expected an argument, but to his surprise, Mallory nodded. “Good precaution. What I don't know, I can't repeat.” Catching the surprise in his expression, she added, “I want to help, Mac. And I want to know what's going on. But not when it serves no good purpose or jeopardizes someone's safety. What sort of arrangements are you making with Shelby?”

He handed her a piece of paper. “That's his address. I'll make sure he'll be there waiting for you and Em tomorrow. I don't want him anywhere near the center, just in case Carmichael or his goons spotted him. When you arrive at Shelby's, he'll take you out of Seattle to that mountain cabin I told you about. After you're both safe, he'll call my answering machine at the office and leave the number of a phone booth near the hideout so I'll be able to contact him later. Carmichael will have to let me call if I tell him that's the only way he'll get the package. I can call my answering machine and get the number after the twenty-four hours are up. That way I'll know you're safe before I make my break. Once I'm free I'll call Shelby. We'll set a time for him to be waiting at his end.”

Mallory felt slightly sick. Mac's plan was nearly in motion, and it looked as if it could work. But what if it backfired?

“We'll arrange the exchange in the late afternoon so the Seattle City Center will be packed with people. This time of year, there should be crowds of vacationers. Carmichael won't want any trouble if he's afoot. And I'm going to demand he come himself.”

“But then he'll know that we know his true identity.”

“He already does. We've seen the ledgers, remember? He's got to know that. I want the weasel there, Mallory, so there won't be any surprises. He'll be too worried about his own skin to play any tricks.”

“Oh, Mac.” Despite their recent argument, Mallory set her can of pop down and hurried around the desk to him.

To her surprise, he enfolded her in his arms without hesitation. “Nothing'll happen. Think about you and Em and Keith all being together again.”

How could she make him see that for her the picture no longer seemed idyllic without him being included?

Chapter Fifteen

The next nine hours passed as slowly for Mallory as cold molasses dripping through a pinhole. Mac, being the kind man he was, tried to set their differences aside and be supportive of her, but nothing could really lessen her anguish. She spent the night sitting up in bed, a slat in the headboard crushing her spine, her gaze fastened on shadows as she thought about Emily and all the things that could go wrong during the exchange. She was also trying desperately to come up with a plan to rescue Mac once
he
became Carmichael's hostage. Mac lay beside her, awake most of the time, her hand cradled in his, his thumb making circles on her skin.

Long before dawn, they drove to her place. As he had once before, Mac drove up and down the side streets near her house looking for watchers before pulling into the cul-de-sac. Mallory scanned the neighborhood for any suspicious movements in the shrubs while Mac searched for strange cars. They saw nothing. They broke the police seals on her garage door to sneak inside the house to await Carmichael's phone call. Since they couldn't afford to be seen, they had to sit there in the semidarkness for hours.

When it grew light enough, Mac passed some of the time showing her how to use his gun, a Smith & Wesson .38 Chief's Special. Mallory swallowed down her aversion to firearms. If her becoming proficient with a gun would increase Emily's chances, then Mallory was determined to cooperate. She did exactly as Mac instructed: loading, snapping the cylinder into place and taking a firing stance to grip the gun with both hands to aim. When she sighted down the barrel, she imagined Carmichael's face as a target. Could she kill someone? Sweat trickled down her spine. For Emily's sake, Mallory knew she could do almost anything.

They repeated the procedure with the gun until Mallory could do it by rote. When they were finished, Mac gave her six extra cartridges to carry in her jeans pocket. She didn't ask why. She didn't want to know. After the gun lesson, they went over their plans again, step by step, so she would know exactly how to reach Shelby once the exchange had taken place. She could tell by the expression in Mac's eyes that he didn't expect to meet her at the hiding place in two days as he claimed he would. Fear coiled within her like a poisonous snake and seeped its venom into her system. She wouldn't let him die. Not after all he'd done for her and Emily. She
wouldn't
.

When the phone finally rang, she was shaking. Until now, Carmichael had called most of the shots. Now she and Mac were going to make demands. There was no way they could anticipate Carmichael's reaction, whether it would be angry or retaliatory. Mallory couldn't help but be frightened. It wasn't her own life she was gambling with but her daughter's.

Mac stood beside her while she answered the phone. Mallory took a deep breath, sent up a prayer and then said, “Hello?”

“You have it?”

“Yes, Mr. Carmichael, I have it.” There was complete silence after she said his name. Licking her lips, Mallory rushed on. “I'll meet you by the fountain at the Seattle City Center, one o'clock. You, Mr. Carmichael, not a stand-in. You may bring one man with you, no more. If you send someone in your place or if I see you've brought more than one man, I'll leave. I'll stand on the west side of the fountain, you on the east.”

To her surprise, Carmichael didn't argue. “You'll come alone, no police.”

“I'm bringing Mr. Mac Phearson. He's going to be the go-between. As he walks toward you around one side of the fountain with the package, I want my daughter walking alone toward me around the other side.”

“That sounds fair. If Mac Phearson's going to be there, I want him in plain view so I can keep an eye on him.”

“So it's agreed? One o'clock this afternoon?”

“Agreed.”

Mac grabbed the phone from Mallory's hands. “Carmichael? One more thing. If you expect this exchange to go off without a hitch, you'd better call off your goons, Paisley, Fields and Godbey, whichever two of them are still alive. After going through Miles's correspondence last night, we have reason to believe they're the men who have been trying to kill Mrs. Christiani. The one who died, in fact, was electrocuted the night before last after breaking into her house. They don't want you seeing those ledgers because the evidence Miles recorded incriminates them. They worked with Miles, skimming your profits. Miles doctored your books so you wouldn't suspect.”

Another long silence ensued on Carmichael's end. “Rest assured, they won't be bothering Mrs. Christiani anymore.”

Mac nodded. “And now the child? I'd like to speak with her.”

“I anticipated that.”

Mac heard a rustling sound, then Em said, “Mommy?” Mac smiled and handed the phone over to Mallory. The glow that washed over her face upon hearing her daughter's voice made Mac's heart catch. Love like that, so perfect, so selfless, was rare. Mac had never been self-sacrificing and he certainly harbored no suicidal tendencies, but bringing Emily home to her mother was something he was willing to risk his life for. Even though the odds were stacked against him.

* * *

T
WELVE
FIFTY
-
THREE
. Mallory glanced from her watch to the opposite side of the fountain, her heart slamming like a sledgehammer as she scanned the milling crowd.
Emily.
It seemed like years since she had seen her, held her in her arms. Seven more minutes. What if Carmichael didn't come? What if he planned a double cross? What if he had planned one all along? What if Em was already dead? Mallory's legs began to shake. She had a sudden, painful urge to go to the ladies' room. When she tried to pray, the words jumbled in her head.

“Here they come,” Mac whispered.

Mallory was suddenly conscious of the pistol Mac had given her that was stuck in her waistband. She pulled her sweater to be sure it was covered, and turned to gaze across the expanse of water. Coming in the entrance gate, she saw Carmichael. She recognized him immediately from pictures she had seen of him in newspapers. He was a tall, attractive man with brown hair, very refined looking and well dressed, not at all what one would expect. Beside him walked a shorter, gray-haired man, also dressed in a suit. Criminals? Killers? Kidnappers? It didn't seem possible. Her gaze dropped to the amber-haired child in a red-plaid school jumper who walked between them. Tears rushed to Mallory's eyes. Em, alive and well.
Thank You, God.

Mac turned slightly and placed a hand on her shoulder. When she looked up, she found his eyes intent on her face. “Mallory, just in case...once they get here, I may not have another chance to tell you that...” His voice trailed off and he cleared his throat. “I just want you to know...” His expression became taut. Very quickly, he bent his head and brushed his lips across hers. “I'll never forget. I'll treasure the memory of being with you as long as I live.”

She caught his sleeve before he could turn away. Tears rolled down her cheeks, leaving cold trails on her skin. She felt her face contorting, her mouth twisting. “Thank you. For bringing her back to me. Thank you so much.”

He cupped her cheek in his hand. “When you get to Shelby's, would you do something for me? Tell him this one is a ringer. He'll know what it means.”

She dashed the wetness from her cheeks. “A ringer. Yes, I'll tell him.”

Mac repositioned the manila envelope under his arm and turned to watch Carmichael's approach. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself to start around the fountain. A few more steps and Carmichael would reach his destination. Mac lowered his gaze to the child and feasted his eyes on her for a moment. A miniature of Mallory. Even at this distance, her eyes looked as big as dinner plates in her elfin face.

Carmichael looked nervous as he drew to a stop. He checked Mac over to be sure he had the package. Mac lifted his jacket to show that he wasn't armed. Carmichael nodded and scanned the surrounding area for any sign of police. When at last he seemed satisfied, he gave another nod and released his hold on Em's hand. Mac started walking. For a moment the child just stood there, seemingly unaware that her mother was nearby. She had her head tipped back to study the Space Needle, the tallest structure in the city center. Carmichael said something to her and pointed. Em leaned sideways to see around the spiral of orange metal in the center of the fountain, her gaze following the direction of Carmichael's finger. The next instant, her small face lit up with delight. “Mommy!”

Before Carmichael could react, Em bolted in the wrong direction and came around the south side of the fountain toward Mac. Mac's guts coiled into icy knots.

“Freeze, Mac Phearson!” Carmichael yelled.

Mac stepped away from the fountain and held his arms out from his sides.
Please, God, don't let him panic.
Carmichael reached under his jacket, his attention riveted on the fleeing child.
Don't let him shoot. Please, not at the kid.
Mac tensed, ready to knock Em to the ground as she passed if Carmichael drew his weapon. The little girl sped by, so close Mac could have touched her, her big brown eyes riveted on her mother, her face aglow with anticipation. “Mommy?”

“Em,” Mallory cried. “Oh, Em!”

Standing where he was, Mac was afforded a view of Mallory as she caught her daughter up in her arms. It was a moment he was glad he hadn't missed. Mallory sobbing, Em chattering like a magpie, every few words interrupted by a giggle. For just an instant, Mac allowed himself to drink in the sight of them, amber heads glinting in the sunshine, their faces shimmering. Then he forced himself to turn and start walking. When next he glanced back, Mallory and her child had disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

M
ALLORY
'
S
HANDS
SHOOK
as she shoved the key into the ignition of the Honda. She had checked for explosives before getting into the car, but that didn't mean there was no one nearby, sighting on them with a rifle. She was so panicked that she forgot to depress the clutch and the car lurched when she started the engine. Em, perched on the passenger seat, fastened wide eyes on her.

“Mommy, why did you lay on the ground before we got in? You're shivering. This isn't our car. Did you buy a new one? Is Gramps okay?”

Mallory got the car started. A thick line of traffic had her momentarily boxed in. Keeping the clutch depressed, she leaned sideways and gave her daughter another swift hug, afraid to linger for fear Carmichael might have set a trap. Em clung to her like a little octopus, her plump arms squeezing Mallory's neck. Prying her loose, Mallory smoothed her hair and flashed what she knew was an unconvincing smile. “Oh, darling, yes, Gramps is okay. I'm just in a hurry, that's all. We're going to meet a new friend. His name is Shelby, and he's expecting us. If we're late, he may worry.”

“I thought your new friend was named Mac.”

“Yes. Shelby is another new friend. We can have more than one new friend, can't we? How are you, princess? Did those people treat you nice? They weren't—” Mallory tightened her hold on the steering wheel. “Were they cross or anything?”

There was still no break in the line of traffic. Mallory watched her rearview mirror.

“No. They were nice. There was a cat named Peaches and a parakeet. Can we have a parakeet? They can learn to talk, you know. I watched lots of movies. Ruthie, the lady, rented some dumb ones, though.”

“But she was nice to you?”

“Yes, except for when I let the bird loose and Peaches tried to eat him.” Em's small face puckered in a frown. “Mommy, why did you leave me there if you thought Ruthie wouldn't treat me nice? I liked it better at Beth's house.”

“I didn't—” Mallory flashed her daughter a too-bright smile. “It's been a busy week. I'm glad Ruthie was nice. Peaches didn't hurt the bird, I hope.”

Em grinned. “Nope, but he made snags in the curtains climbing up them. Ruthie's face turned purple and her eyes bugged at me. I thought she might spank me, but she didn't.”

Mallory swerved out when a break in traffic gave her the opportunity. Then she forced herself to concentrate on driving. Em was safe. At least, she soon would be.
Think, Mallory.
She checked her mirrors, glanced out the side windows.
No tail.
Without signaling, she swung across two lanes and took a sharp left turn. After being around Mac, she knew better than to drive directly to Shelby's. No way. If Carmichael had someone following her, she'd give them a merry chase or die trying.

“Mommy, you just went on a red light.”

Mallory laughed softly and nodded. “I did, didn't I? Wonders never cease. Are you buckled in? Good girl. If I tell you to, Em, you undo your belt and get on the floorboard, okay? We're going to play
running from bad guys
. Sound fun?”

“Not very.”

“Well, fun or not, humor me.”

“Okay. What kind of bad guys?”

“The kind we don't want to catch us.
Bad
bad guys.”

“Are we going to play it until we get to Shelby's?”

“Yes, darling, until we get to Shelby's.”

* * *

S
HELBY
LIVED
IN
a new high-rise on the west side. Mallory parked on the street and glanced at the paper she'd pulled from her pocket. His was apartment 1410. She climbed out of the car and tipped her head back to look up at the building. Would he welcome them? Be hostile? Recalling the conversation she had overheard between him and Mac, she fought off apprehension. Mac trusted Shelby. He had extracted her promise that she would come here. It was too late to change arrangements at this point.

Mallory helped her daughter from the car and then drew her toward the high-rise entrance, holding tightly to her small hand.
Please, let him be nice.
If he was unpleasant—if he so much as
seemed
reluctant to help them—how could she possibly leave Em with him?