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“I don't really need proof, you know. After all that's happened, how could I not believe you?” But even as she said it, to satisfy him and herself, Mallory opened the wallet and glanced at his identification. She couldn't afford mistakes.

“I'm glad to hear it.” He flopped back down behind the wheel. “If we're stuck with each other, a little trust can't hurt.”

A heavy silence settled over them. “I said I was sorry.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

From his tone, she couldn't be sure if he was sorry for something he'd done or if he just regretted his entanglement with
her
.

“I should have had my ID with me. I was stupid to forget it in the car. When I lecture on crime prevention, I warn women never to—” He swiped at a hank of hair that waved across his forehead, getting in his eyes. “Let's just forget it, okay?”

Mallory offered his wallet to him. He took it and shoved it into his jacket pocket. She studied him for a moment, then said, “I feel as if I'm having a bad dream and can't wake up. Why are those men doing this? I can't understand it.”

“For now, I'm not going to worry about why. A gun in my back has a way of dampening my curiosity. As for dreaming, I wish.”

She rolled down her window and inhaled a bracing draught of spruce-scented air. The sound of children's laughter came to them from up the street. The sound reminded her of Emily and unbidden tears welled in her eyes. “Shouldn't we be going? I'd like to get my daughter.”

He stuffed a rumpled handkerchief into her hand. “In a few more minutes. They'll comb the streets for a while. Let's make sure we're safe.”

Mallory searched for a clean spot on the handkerchief.

“Sorry. Toby's hot dog and orange slush is all over it.”

“Who's Toby?”

“My pitcher.” He grabbed a dog-eared notepad off the dash, unclipped the Lindy pen attached to the bent spirals and jotted something down. “Was that a Buick they were driving? An '88?”

“There was a
gun
hanging out the window. That's all I noticed.”

He didn't even look up. “It was at least an '88. I think the first three letters on the plate were LUD.”

“Are we going to the police?”

“Keith said no.”

“Then why write the tag number down?” She stared at his taut face. “Every cop in King County can't be working for Lucetti.”

“Do you want to take a chance on trusting the wrong one?”

“Do you know what you're saying? That there are policemen who know about this and aren't doing anything to stop it.”

He tossed the tablet back onto the dash and braced his arms on the steering wheel. “That's right.”

“This is Seattle, not Miami Vice.”

His eyes locked with hers. She had the feeling that he thoroughly disliked her.

“You say
Seattle
like it's smack dab in the middle of
Disneyland
.
Most
cops are on the level, probably ninety-nine-point-nine percent, but it only takes one. Bellevue, with its manicured streets and fancy houses and fifty-thousand-dollar cars, isn't the real world. I know that's hard for you to digest, but take a stab at it.”

“Just what
are
we going to do, then?”

“We're going to go pick up your kid and then get out of town.” He gave her a challenging glance. “Unless you can come up with a better suggestion?”

For the life of her, Mallory couldn't think of a single one.

Chapter Three

The ride to Beth Hamstead's house, where Emily was staying, took thirty minutes, during which Mallory felt the tension in her neck and shoulders beginning to ease. She couldn't think of any way anyone could know where Emily was. That thought and the peaceful country scenery along the Woodinville-Duvall Road soothed her as nothing else could. Leaning her head back against the rest, she watched the green hillsides whiz by, relishing the cool caress of the early-evening breeze as it rushed in through her open window. In a few more minutes, she would have her daughter safely in her arms, and Mac Phearson would spirit them away to a safe place where they could wait together until he could find out what was going on.

Turning her head, she watched him as he maneuvered the car, one shoulder propped against his door, one hand loosely curled around the steering wheel. At a glance, he appeared relaxed. Only his eyes gave him away. They darted continually from the road to his rearview mirror. His watchfulness reminded her that the nightmare from which they'd just escaped was far from over.

“See anyone?”

“Not yet. Mrs. Christiani—”

“Mallory, please. Mrs. seems so formal.”

“Mallory,” he corrected. “I want you to think back over the last few weeks. Has Keith said or done anything odd?”

She shook her head. “He's been horribly tense, that's all.”

“Any strangers been calling the house? People who've never called before? It's extremely important.”

Again she shook her head.

“Has Keith been gone at odd hours? Has he, um, had a sudden increase in income?”

Mallory stiffened. “Just what are you implying?”

“Nothing. I'm just trying to—” He narrowed his eyes. “Get something straight, okay? Keith's like a father to me. I'm not maligning his character, just looking for answers.”

“He
isn't
dealing in anything criminal, not Keith.”

“Has he had an increase in income?”

“No!”

“Don't just say no,
think
. Like it or not, he's tied up in something pretty nasty and there has to be a reason for it. Not everyone runs in your circles, you know. Keith didn't meet Lucetti over a friendly game of handball at the athletic club.”

Mallory sat straighter in the seat. He made affluence sound like a sin. It wasn't as if she were one of the rich and famous, after all. Her dad was an ex-congressman—so what? She had been raised in a town where the wealthy greatly outnumbered the middle-income families. Again, so what? People didn't pick their parents, after all.

“You don't like me, do you?” she ground out.

His jaw tensed. “I just met you. Why wouldn't I like you?”

“You tell me.”

He turned his attention from the road to give her a lazy perusal. “If I had to describe my feelings toward you, I'd have to say I'm indifferent. I haven't known you long enough to form a personal opinion of you. I'm here as a favor to Keith. Which brings us back to my question. Let's stick to that.”

He didn't sound indifferent, he sounded contemptuous. And for the life of her Mallory couldn't see what it was he found so revolting. Her expensive green suit was a mess, no doubt about it, but he wasn't going to take any fashion prizes himself. In frustration, she decided to let the issue drop. Indifference could be mutual.

She forced her mind back to his question, Keith's income. Could her father-in-law have become involved in something shady? No, she couldn't believe it of him, not for an instant. “There's been no increase in income that I'm aware of. No strangers calling. Nothing. He's been tense...that's all.”

“How about strange cars in the neighborhood?”

“No, not that I noticed. Our neighborhood is pretty quiet.”

He frowned. “There has to be something we're missing.”

Mallory had no answer. “Keith's a good man, an honest man.”

“I know that.” He squinted to see out the dirty windshield. “You said to take a left at two hundred and twenty-sixth, right?”

She nodded and tried to read the street signs. They still had about a half mile to go before their turn. “It's not finished yet, is it? They could still find us.”

“Assuming Lucetti doesn't already know where we're heading. It's possible that he's been having you followed.”

Sweat sprang to her palms. So much for her calm assumption that Emily was safe. Thank goodness they were only a short distance from Beth's. “You think that he might've?”

“It's possible. But let's not borrow trouble.”

He was right. She had problems aplenty already.

He glanced over at her. “You look exhausted. How long since you slept and ate?”

“I'm fine.”

Remembering the bitterness that had crept into his voice earlier, she fastened a curious stare on him. One minute he sounded almost as if he hated her, the next he took her off guard by being kind. Did he have some particular reason for disliking Bellevue people? He seemed loyal enough to Keith, referring to him as a surrogate father, which meant he must have grown up in the Seattle area. Intercity, probably. But what part? She shifted her gaze to the pile of junk on his back seat. The baseball bat caught her eye. “I take it you like kids?”

“They're okay.”

“You must think they're a little better than okay or you wouldn't coach ball.”

He checked the rearview mirror again. “We can't all do our good deeds at fancy charity dinners.”

She ignored the dig. “Still live in your old neighborhood?”

“My mom does.”

“Is that where you coach?”

He hesitated before answering. “That's right.”

“Is it a school team?”

He looked over at her. Something flickered in his eyes, something so cold it almost made Mallory shiver. “You want to know what part of Seattle I'm from, right?”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“Nope. Just predictable.”

It was several seconds before she realized he hadn't answered her question.
Just predictable.
What was that supposed to mean? He took the sharp left turn off the Woodinville-Duvall Road. She pointed through the trees toward Beth's two-story, white house. “It's the third right, up there on the hill.” Glancing at her watch, she added, “The kids are probably out in the pasture with Lovey. It's not quite supper time yet.”

“Lovey?”

“The Shetland pony.”

Mac Phearson steered the car up the narrow, winding driveway. Trees blocked Mallory's view of the house. She strained her neck to see the upper pasture, hoping to spot her daughter. When she looked back at Mac Phearson, he was staring straight ahead, his eyes flat and hard. He braked to a stop.

Mallory immediately knew something had to be wrong. Her heart leaped when she saw the police car angled across the driveway. Beth Hamstead was standing beside a tall policeman out in front of the garage. Mallory threw off her seat belt and wrenched her car door open. Mac Phearson cut the engine, pulled the emergency brake and piled out his door after her. She felt his hand clamp down on her arm. “Be careful what you say.”

Mallory jerked away from him. Beth's brood hovered around their mother. But where was Emily? Mallory searched for her daughter's amber-colored braids among the bobbing redheads. Oh, dear God, where was Emily? A call came over the police car radio, and the officer left Beth to go answer it.

Beth stiffened when she spotted Mallory running up the steep driveway. “Oh, Mall, thank heaven you're here. I've been out of my mind, trying to call you. Em's wandered off.”

It felt to Mallory as if the ground had disappeared from under her. She didn't realize she'd nearly fallen until a hard, strong arm caught her around the shoulders.
Mac Phearson.
Forgetting that she barely knew him, no longer really caring, she leaned into him for much-needed support. “Wh-what do you mean, she's wandered off, Beth? How long has it been since you saw her?” Mallory dreaded hearing the answer.

Beth lifted both hands, blue eyes apologetic. “I only turned my back for a few minutes. The phone rang and I ran inside to answer it. That's all, I swear it. You know how closely I watch her. She was right here playing with the others and then—then she was just gone.” Running her fingers through her red hair, Beth flashed an unconvincing smile. “I'm sure she's just lost her way in the woods. No need to panic. In this thick brush, it happens sometimes. I can't count the times my kids have gotten turned around. Of course, they're more familiar with the area, so they've always gotten back before I felt it was necessary to call the police.”

Fear sluiced down Mallory's spine and pooled like ice at the small of her back. An image of her daughter's face swam through her head, and she felt a scream welling in her throat. She clamped her arms around her middle, clinging desperately to her self-control. Mac Phearson's hand clasped hers where it rested at her waist and she threw him a pleading look. The dismay she read in his eyes only intensified her fear. “Lucetti?” she whispered.

“Let's not jump to conclusions,” he cautioned in a low voice. “It doesn't add up.”

He threw an uneasy glance at the policeman to make sure he wasn't listening.

Ignoring his warning glance, Mallory continued her questions. “You don't think Lucetti took her, then?”

Mac Phearson's gaze slid to Beth before he answered. The redhead was busy speaking with one of her children, not listening to them. “When professionals make a hit, they do it quick and clean, Mallory. They couldn't have found a more ideal place than here, remote, no witnesses. Why take her someplace else and risk being seen while they—” He broke off and swallowed.

Mallory knew what it must be that he had left unsaid, but she couldn't let herself dwell on it. What he
had
said was what she must concentrate on and that was bad enough. If Lucetti was out for blood, he couldn't have found a better place to spill it. Which meant what?

The police officer turned away from the car, his face lined with concern. He stared at Mallory's torn stockings and bare feet for a moment, then lifted his gaze to Mac Phearson's smeared sweatshirt. “I assume you're Mr. and Mrs. Christiani?”

“I'm Mrs. Christiani. This is my friend, Mr. Mac Ph—”

“Pleased, I'm sure,” Mac Phearson said, cutting the introduction short and extending his arm for a handshake.

“I'm Officer Maloney. It looks as if your daughter has wandered off into the woods, ma'am.”

“Did you already question the children?” she asked.

“Yes, but they weren't much help. It seems they left Emily holding the Shetland's halter while they ran into the barn to get some oats. Evidently the pony isn't a very cooperative riding mount unless she's bribed. They had trouble getting the feed-room door open and took longer than they meant to. When they came back out, Emily was gone. Mrs. Hamstead had gone inside and wasn't watching them, as I understand it.”

Beth approached, her eyes taking on a glint of anger. “I
was
watching them. I just went in to answer my phone.”

The officer cleared his throat. “I don't think there's any cause for alarm. She's been gone less than two hours. We have four squad cars on the roads, three officers on foot. We've asked all the neighbors, and no one has seen her. But most people are busy this time of day preparing dinner, so that's not really odd. We'll have her home for her own dinner if my guess is right. Too many roads around here for her to wander far.”

Mallory nearly groaned in exasperation. Em wouldn't take off without permission. The child
knew
better. And Mallory never left her here without cautioning her against leaving the yard. In one direction, there was a busy highway, and in the other, a lake.

There was a horrible, quivery feeling in the pit of Mallory's stomach, a feeling that seemed somehow connected to her throat.
Emily?
She searched the faces of the other children, willing her daughter to appear. This was every mother's nightmare, the sort of thing you read about in the paper but never dreamed would happen to you.
Oh, please, God, not my baby.

“It's not like my daughter to leave the yard without permission,” Mallory said, struggling to keep her voice calm. “Have you considered the possibility that she might have been kidnapped?”

Mac Phearson stiffened and cast Mallory a warning glance, which she presumed was meant to silence her. She lifted her chin and met his gaze head-on before returning her attention to the policeman.

“Kidnapping is always a possibility, Mrs. Christiani, but we've no reason to suspect that at this stage. Mrs. Hamstead hasn't noticed any strangers hanging around. This is a quiet area, not much off-the-highway traffic. Who'd be up here to spot an unattended child and take her that quickly?”

“Unattended?”
Beth protested. “What are you implying? I watch the kids more closely than most mothers, especially with a lake so close.”

Mallory doubled her hands into fists. Her nails bit into her palms. Her daughter was missing. This was no time for Beth's ego to get in the way.

“I— Don't misinterpret what I'm saying, Mrs. Hamstead,” the officer said patiently. “I didn't mean that you were neglecting the child. Kids will be kids. They forget rules sometimes and wander farther than they realize. Unfortunately a turn of the head is all it takes and they're gone. Especially in a wooded area like this. Emily probably didn't intend to go more than a few steps and simply got turned around. Where is this lake?”

“Right up the road.”

The alarm that flashed across the officer's face was impossible to miss. “Did Emily know about the lake?”

“Yes!”
Mallory cut in. “I've warned her about it.”

“Does your daughter like the water?”