“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?”
Mallory stared at the policeman, scarcely seeing him as she pictured Em standing on the diving board at home, poised to do a back flip. Mommy, look at me! The memory made her eyes burn with unshed tears. The trees in her peripheral vision seemed to be closing in, spinning. “Yes, she loves the water.” Her voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else, calm and reasonable, completely at odds with the panic churning inside her. She wanted to charge off into the woods—scream, cry—beg someone to tell her this wasn’t really happening. “We have a pool. She’s an accomplished swimmer. She’s already in intermediate lessons.”
“Excuse me just a moment.” The policeman walked back to his car and leaned through the open window to grab the mike to his radio. After talking a few minutes, he strode back to them. The expression on his face spoke volumes.
Mallory couldn’t breathe. It felt as if a thousand-pound weight had hit her square in the chest. The lake. Em was a good swimmer, but what if she had fallen in? Her woolen school uniform and shoes would soak up water like a sponge and hamper her.
Mallory began to tremble. She could almost feel Em’s soft little body hugged tightly in her arms, smell her shampoo, see her twinkling brown eyes and freckled nose. “We have to find her,” she said, glancing up at Mac Phearson. Fear made her voice sound slightly off-key. “She’s only seven. It’ll get dark soon.”
“We’ll find her.” Mac Phearson’s arms slipped around her reassuringly. “There’s plenty of daylight left.”
Mallory nodded and sucked in a breath of air, holding it until her temples throbbed. Exhaling with a shaky sigh, she forced herself to relax. She had to stay calm. Think. Where might Em have gone? She glanced over the bushy hillsides, trying to see it from a child’s perspective. What could have enticed Em from the yard? A squirrel, perhaps? A pretty bird? Mallory couldn’t imagine her daughter disobeying the rules on a whim.
“Better?” Mac Phearson’s arms loosened and she felt him smoothing her hair. “She’s okay. Count on it.”
Lifting her head, Mallory looked deep into his gray eyes. The low timbre of his voice bolstered her. He sounded so certain. Oh, please, let him be right. Again she turned to stare in indecision at the semicircle of trees that hemmed the property. Emily’s name ached in her throat. Could Lucetti have tailed them here last night, as Mac Phearson had mentioned? What if he had? What if he had taken Em? If he had, they’d be wasting time searching the woods.
But what if Lucetti doesn’t have her? Em might be lost. They had to search for her here first—just in case. She might panic, fall and hurt herself. That thought spurred Mallory into action. She took several steps toward the trees, only to be dragged to a stop by Mac Phearson’s strong grip on her shoulder.
“You can’t take off on foot, not without shoes.”
“I have to. She’ll be getting scared by now.” She tried to slip out of his grasp. “She’ll come if she hears my voice. Hearing a bunch of strange men yelling her name might frighten her. She could start running and fall or—”
His grip on her wrist tightened. “We’ll take the car. You can drive up and down the roads while I search the brush. If you keep your window down, she’ll be able to hear you just as well as if you were walking, and you can cover more ground that way. She’s bound to stumble out to a road sooner or later, right?”
Mallory glanced at the car, anxious to start searching. If Em did come out onto a road, she would surely stay on it. Mac was right. Looking for her in an automobile might prove to be the fastest way to find her.
The policeman turned to Beth. “Someone should stay here.” Beth nodded. Glancing at Mac Phearson, the officer said, “We’re sweeping up from the highway in this direction. As soon as the men get here, we’ll go on up the road.”
It went without saying that “up the road” meant the lake. Despite Mac Phearson’s reassurances, Mallory’s stomach lurched.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, Mallory stood beside the car. Mac wove his way toward her through the thick brush, never taking his eyes off her. Standing there barefoot in the dusky light with her tousled hair framing her face, she looked like a scared twelve-year-old. The bruise along her cheek was a dark shadow against her white skin.
His stomach tightened as he drew closer. The fear in her sherry-brown eyes reached out and coiled itself around his heart.
He had hated Mallory Christiani so venomously for so many years that the sudden wave of pity he felt for her confused him. Time after time today, he had found himself forgetting who she was. Now he was getting to a point where he didn’t much care. She wasn’t at all as he had imagined her. Admitting, even to himself, that he might have been wrong about her didn’t sit well. But the truth was staring him in the face. She wasn’t the empty-headed, spoiled little rich girl he’d expected. She had more guts than most.
And now he had to kick her when she was already down.
The news he had wasn’t good. A few minutes ago, he had run into one of the policemen beating the brush. The general consensus was that if they didn’t find Emily soon, there was only one place she could possibly be—in the lake. There were so many houses and fences peppering the woods that they didn’t think the child could have wandered past them into open country.
After beating the brush as thoroughly as he had this past hour, Mac was inclined to disagree with the lake theory. He’d circled the body of water himself, and there wasn’t any sign that a child had been playing along the shore. After leaving the lake, he had worked his way back toward the Hamstead place.
He’d found a dirt road above the property that looked down on the Hamstead house, a cul-de-sac where some new homes were being constructed. There were tire tracks on the road’s shoulder where a car had been parked. Judging from the scattered cigarette butts, someone had sat there a good long while, chain-smoking. There were also a man’s shoe prints in the dirt going from the car toward the pasture where Emily had been playing right before she disappeared.
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