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“Mommy, is Shelby nice?”

“Mmm, yes, very nice.” Mallory wasn't sure who she was trying to convince, Em or herself. She pressed the elevator button. “He's Mac's best friend, so he has to be a nice man.”

“Do you like Mac a lot?”

Mallory had forgotten how many questions Emily could ask. She smiled as she pulled her into the elevator. “I like him very much.”

The elevator jerked and then began its ascent. Em grasped the handrail. “Very
very
much?”

Dropping to her knees, Mallory wrapped both arms around her daughter. This was the first opportunity she had had to simply hold her, to
absorb
the fact that she was actually here and in one piece. Unshed tears ached behind her eyes. Em, of course, didn't realize how close she had come to dying so Mallory had to play down her own relief to avoid frightening her. This wasn't the first time that she and Mallory had been separated, so Em couldn't see what the big deal was. Mallory was grateful to Carmichael for that. The man had
some
good in him.

“Yes, Em, I like Mac very very much. But not as much as you.”

“Silly, you
love
me.”

The elevator doors slid open. Mallory took Emily's hand in hers again. Together, they exited into a plushly carpeted hall. Arrows indicated that Shelby's apartment was to her right. Mallory turned, tugging Em along beside her. Apartment 1410 was only a few doors down. Mallory halted before the door and took a deep, bracing breath. Here went nothing. She rapped softly. Seconds later, she heard a chain rasp and the portal opened a crack. A tall black man with a mustache and dimples peered out. There was a hard, rough edge to his features, but he had twinkling eyes that glowed warm and friendly from his brown face.

“Are you Shelby?”

“That's my name. You must be Mallory.” The door swung wide. “And
you
must be—Ellen? Or was it Etta? Esther? Emma?”

Emily giggled as she and Mallory stepped across the threshold. “You're getting warmer. I'm—”

Shelby held up a hand. “No, no, don't give it away! If I can't get it right, I have to pay off with a banana split from the Dairy Queen. House rule around here if you forget somebody's name. You
do
like banana splits?”

“Yummy. My favorite.”

“Oh, that's good. We wouldn't have hit it off at all if you didn't.” Shelby shut the door and fastened the chain. Meeting Mallory's gaze over the top of Em's head, his expression grew suddenly serious. “Did everything go all right?”

What could she say? Yes, it went fine? A lump rose in Mallory's throat. “He—um—yes, well enough. He gave me a message for you. He said to tell you this one was a ringer.”

Shelby smiled slowly. He ran his gaze over her and lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “Oh, he did, did he?” His smile dimpled his cheeks. “Well, now, isn't that a mind-blowing development?”

Mallory wasn't quite sure what that meant. Since Shelby seemed to find it amusing, she relaxed a bit. “It's not bad news, then?”

“It depends on how you look at it, I guess. Is your name Erica?” Shelby hunkered down in front of Em. “Evelyn? None of those, hmm? I can't believe this. I'm usually very good at remembering names. Especially when the owner is so pretty. Erin?” He heaved a theatrical sigh. “Egghead?”

Emily was clearly disarmed by Shelby's teasing grin. “Shall I tell you? I'm afraid you aren't going to guess.”

“Well, it means I'm out the money for a trip to the Dairy Queen, but I reckon I have to give up. Tell me.”

“Emily.”

Shelby clapped his hand to his forehead. “Emily! Of course. I remember now. I came close with Emma. I think we should
share
a banana split.”

“Oh, no. You didn't guess it! And it's
your
rule.”

“True,” Shelby conceded. “Close is only good in horseshoes. How about I let you eat three-fourths?”

“Nope, you owe me a whole one.”

Shelby cupped the child's chin in his hand. “My goodness! I never saw so many freckles on one little nose in all my life. How do you do it? I can stay out in the sun until I'm cooked to the bone and I can't get a single one.”

Emily found that hilarious and giggled with delight. “
You
can't get freckles.”

“I can't?”

“Nope. But don't feel sad. You'd hate them once you had some. They won't wash off, you know.”

“They're too pretty to wash off. If I can guess how many freckles you've got, will you call us even?”

“Nope. I want my banana split. Besides, I'd starve by the time you got all
my
freckles counted. I've got 'em all over.”

Mallory had to look away because her eyes were filling with tears. She should have known Shelby would be wonderful. He was Mac's best friend, so he had to be. He clearly loved children. Em would not only be safe with him, but as happy as a bug. Now all that remained for her to do was be certain Shelby's plan of escape was fail-safe and then to inform him of her own plans. Glancing at her watch, she did some quick calculations. Mac planned to stall Carmichael for twenty-four hours before taking him to the safe at his office and giving him the package. That didn't give her much time. She hoped Shelby didn't decide to be difficult.

* * *

T
WO
HOURS
LATER
, after Mallory had grilled Shelby mercilessly to satisfy herself that he was capable and that his plans for fleeing Seattle had no holes in them that might endanger her daughter, she told him her intentions.

“You're gonna
what
?”

Until this moment, she had thought Shelby had very nice eyes. Now, however, they looked a little wild. “I'm going to bargain for Mac's release,” she repeated, peeking into the living room to be sure Em was still happily absorbed in the movie they had been watching on Shelby's VCR. Shelby wasn't exactly whispering. “Please don't be difficult, Shelby. I'm going to do it no matter what you say, and you'll only waste precious time.”

“Oh, no, you ain't!”

She pursed her lips. Shelby's grammar became nonexistent when he got upset. “I'm perfectly capable, you know. I've got it all planned out. And when it boils right down to it, you haven't got much to say about it.”

“Once you get to know me better, you'll find out I always got plenty to say about everything. No. That's
N-O
, as in absolutely not. Mac sent you here for me to watch out for you. Soon as it's dark, we're gonna get in my car and head east over the mountains to that cabin where nobody can find us. If I let you do otherwise, when he finds out, I'll think I'm grass and he's a lawn mower. No way. It'd be different if I could go with you, but I can't. So just put it out of your pretty little head.”

Mallory felt her temper rising. Her pretty little head? She planted her hands on her hips. “Look into my eyes. Do you see a vacancy sign? Don't talk to me like I have feathers between my ears.”

He jutted his chin at her. “Feathers? I think all you got up there is air. Those boys don't play nice. Do you understand what I'm saying? They pack weapons that fire
real
bullets.” He motioned toward the living room with his thumb. “I'm taking you and sweet thing to eastern Washington. That's it. No arguments.”

“Shelby, I love him. Can't you understand? If he dies, how will I live with it? Now that I know Em will be okay, I have to do something. When Mac calls you tomorrow, just tell him I'm with you.”

He groaned, rolled his eyes and did a half turn away from her. “I'm not lyin' to him. No way. Forget that idea.”

“You'll have to. Otherwise, he'll do something foolish before I can make my move. You don't want him dead, do you?”

“Mac's no dummy. He'll get himself out of it. He told me over the phone that he had a plan.”

“He lied. His only plan was to exchange himself for Em. Don't you see? Look at her, Shelby. Could you let her die? He decided to take her place. He
lied
to you.”

Shelby groaned. “It was his choice. I promised him, Mallory. You know that message he sent me? About the ringer?
You're
the ringer. It's a name we came up with years ago. Over in Nam. I was engaged to be married, and Mac called my girl a ringer because of the engagement ring I bought her. I got hurt over there—bad hurt—and he promised me if I didn't make it, he'd take care of her. You understand? He sent that message in case he didn't come back. He wanted me to look out for you.”

Mallory's throat tightened.
Oh, Mac.
“You'll be taking care of Em. That's the most important thing. As soon as it's dark, you'll leave and head east over the mountains. She'll be safe over there. Carmichael won't be able to find her. Day after tomorrow, Mac and I will join you.”

“And what if something goes wrong? What happens to her?”

“My parents will raise her if Keith isn't able. Believe me, the thought of that is enough to keep me on my toes. Trust me, Shelby. I've been planning this since last night. I won't leave room for mistakes.”

She could see that Shelby was weakening. She spoke to him quietly for several minutes, then showed him the note she'd composed and planned to leave for Carmichael.

He read it carefully then nodded once, convinced. She smiled tremulously and turned toward the living room to say goodbye to Em. Leaving her daughter was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.

Em reacted to Mallory's announcement that she was leaving with only momentary sadness. “I get to go camping with Shelby? And pretty soon you and Mac are coming? That'll be radical.”

Mallory scooped the child into her arms and clung to her, fighting back a deluge of tears. “Oh, Em, I love you so much, darling. Do you have any idea how I've missed you?”

Em squeezed her back and craned her neck to see what Spock was doing. Mallory had clearly interrupted her during a suspenseful moment in the movie. “I missed you, too, Mommy. Shelby! Come and watch! Spock's going to get killed.”

Shelby, clearly reluctant to horn in on such an emotion-packed farewell, obliged the child, throwing Mallory an apologetic glance. Mallory forced herself to release her hold on her daughter, trying to comfort herself with the realization that this was a difficult parting only for her.

Rising to her feet, she swiped at a stray tear on her cheek. Shelby smiled and gripped her shoulder. “You take care. Don't go gettin' yourself hurt. He'll never forgive me.” His face tightened. “And now that I know you, I'm afraid I'd never forgive myself, either.”

Chapter Sixteen

Mallory left Shelby's apartment and drove directly to Mac's office building. Breaking and entering in broad daylight wasn't her idea of fun, especially when she had never in her life broken in anywhere. But she didn't dare wait until dark. Just in case Carmichael somehow managed to make Mac reveal the whereabouts of the package sooner than planned, she wanted that safe to be empty. Except, of course, for the note she'd shown Shelby.

Mac's office door had a window in the top half. That helped. All she had to do was break the glass. No need to pick the lock, thank goodness. The only trick would be to break the glass so quietly that no one called the police. She had watched enough television to know she needed tape. Going to a store for it would waste time. She cast a dubious glance at her attire. Maybe, just maybe, since Mac was so haphazard about everything else, someone in a neighboring office would believe his new secretary came to work dressed in jeans and athletic shoes.

Repositioning the shoulder strap of her purse, Mallory took off down the hall. Several offices away, she looked through a door window similar to Mac's and saw a woman bent over an adding machine. Mallory pasted on a smile and stepped inside. “Hi, there. I'm Mallory, the new secretary up the hall. I work for Bud Mac Phearson. Could you save the day and lend me a roll of tape for about five minutes? I forgot to get some, and I'd really rather not be fired my second day on the job.”

“Oh, sure, no problem. As if Mac ever fired anyone.” She threw Mallory a conspiratorial smile. “He just drives people crazy until they quit. He's having a good day if he comes in wearing socks that match.” She shoved the tape dispenser forward, her eyes alight with laughter. “You aren't going to do anything foolish, like straighten his desk, are you? It completely throws him off stride. Believe it or not, he knows where everything is in that jungle he calls an office.”

Mallory remembered the condition of Mac's Volvo and chuckled. “What the man needs is a wife.”

The other woman rolled her eyes. “Isn't he a doll? I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers, that's for sure. Hang in there, kiddo. If I wasn't already married...”

Mallory picked up the tape. “Thanks. I'll be right back.”

Her heart slammed all the way back up the hall. She quickly crisscrossed Mac's door window with tape, then used the tape dispenser to whack it. Glass splintered in both directions, and not very quietly. She winced and wiggled one foot to dislodge several errant slivers from her shoe. Nothing ever worked the way it did on television. After returning the tape with a cheerful thank-you, she raced back to Mac's office.
Hurry, hurry.
Reaching through the broken window, she unlocked the door, shoved it inward and then kicked the scattered glass across the threshold so nobody would see it.

Mac's filing system, if there was one, left much to be desired. How did he ever find anything in all these piles of papers? She focused on the safe, which sat in one corner of the room, serving as the stand for a drip coffeemaker. As she stepped across the room, she reached in her purse for the note she had already composed. Grabbing the safe dial, she worked the combination, which she had committed to memory when she had seen Mac open it earlier. To her relief, the door swung open after her first try. She removed the familiar manila envelope. Very quickly, she scanned the note one more time to be sure she hadn't left anything out. Carmichael should get it tomorrow, when Mac brought him to pick up the package.

Mr. Carmichael:

If you want your precious package, meet me tonight at the Mukilteo ferry at 12:55. If you're late, I will take your package directly to the police and it will be in their hands by 1:30. I want you, no one else, to walk to the ferry ramp with Mr. Mac Phearson. I will be waiting for you there. As Mac Phearson steps onto the ferry, I will hand you the package. You will return to your men; I and Mr. Mac Phearson will depart on the ferry to Whidbey Island. No tricks. Keep Mac Phearson in good health if you value your freedom.

She had signed it with her full name.

Mallory's hands shook as she laid the note on the floor of the safe and closed the door. She was trusting Mac's assessment of Carmichael's character. If he was right, she knew that the moment Carmichael read her note, he would fly into a rage. She wanted him angry—so angry that he became careless. A lone woman, and a not very astute one at that, against his army of trained professionals? Carmichael would believe that getting the package from her would be as simple as taking candy from a baby.

Mallory had news for him. She would be the first to admit that she had been out of her element these past few days. She wasn't much good at playing duck in a shooting gallery. And threats against her daughter's life reduced her to sniveling terror. But Em was safe now. No more mindless panic. No more feeling powerless. Carmichael was about to learn a very bitter lesson, that muscle could never take the place of brains.

Mallory had planned carefully. The hardest part had been to forget what Mallory Christiani might do and start thinking like Carmichael would. Last night, when she had first conceived this idea, she had tried to put herself inside his skin and anticipate his every move. It hadn't been too difficult once she started getting the hang of it. For instance, the very first thing she had imagined him doing was to assess the situation from all angles and study the layout of the area that she had chosen for the exchange. He would instantly realize that an island like Whidbey could become a death trap. The last ferry run was at 1:00 a.m., so once she and Mac went over to Clinton Landing and disembarked, they would have only one escape route off Whidbey, the Deception Pass Bridge, which connected into the mainland at the north end. Carmichael would be ecstatic when he realized that. Because it would be dark, he wouldn't even have to worry about witnesses identifying him.

To saturate him with false security, that was her aim. She had deliberately chosen a place where he could close off every avenue of escape. He would station snipers at strategic spots around both ferry landings. If his men couldn't nail her and Mac at the ferry dock on the mainland, they would try again after she and Mac disembarked at Clinton Landing over on the island. And, just in case that failed, Carmichael would have both ends of the Deception Pass Bridge covered. Oh, yes, he would think of everything. And feel utterly confident that she was a stupid little broad who was playing right into his hands. Which was exactly what she wanted him to think. That he was shrewd, that she was as good as had, that it was only a matter of time. Oh, yes...let him feel cocky. He would never expect her to pull a switchback like this, to outsmart him at his own game. Let him forget that she came from the upper crust world of politics and wheeler-dealer big business. She had grown up watching her father grind much better men than Carmichael under his heel.

“A piece of cake,” she whispered, thinking of Mac as she shut the safe with an ominous little click. He had been her rock for days, watching out for her, taking care of her, lending her his strength, thinking for her when she couldn't think for herself. Well, now it was her turn to carry the ball.

Striding to the desk, Mallory picked up the phone and dialed her bank. A woman named Sarah answered. “Yes, Sarah, this is Mallory Christiani.” Mallory recited her account numbers. “I'd like to arrange for withdrawal of my funds by morning.”

Sarah hesitated. “All of them? Less than twenty-four hours isn't much time to give us.”

“I'm sorry. It's an emergency.”

“Have you become dissatisfied with our service?”

“Not at all. I simply need a lot of cash.”

“If we liquidate your market bonds, you'll lose large sums of money.”

“I don't care. I want the cash—three thousand in small bills, the remainder in large denominations, so it will be easier to carry. See to it, please?”

Mallory hung up and pulled her list of things to do from her pocket. She only had until tomorrow night, so every second had to count. Some of this stuff simply couldn't be done today, though. Not until she had withdrawn all her funds from the bank. She sighed and ran a hand over her eyes. If she forgot one minor detail, she and Mac might pay for it with their lives. The first thing tomorrow morning, before banking hours, she would have to drive to the hospital and exchange Trudy's Honda for her Mercedes. Then she'd park her Mercedes at the Mukilteo ferry landing and take a cab into Everett to rent a dark-colored car, preferably one with plenty of horsepower, in case she needed speed.

Tomorrow afternoon after withdrawing her money from the bank, she would put the cash in the trunk of the rental car and take the vehicle over to Whidbey Island on the ferry, park it up the road from the landing where it wouldn't be conspicuous, and then return to the mainland as a walk-on ferry passenger. Once that was done, she would drive her Mercedes down to Tacoma and rent still another car, which she would leave parked near the marina slips there. Today, all she had left to do was some shopping. She needed a box of large heavy-duty freezer bags, a sturdy leather belt, an extra key chain and a suitcase in which to carry the cash.

It was going to be the slowest day and night of her life waiting for tomorrow night to finally arrive. Mallory picked up the phone and dialed the hospital to get the good news about Em to Keith. No sense in both of them waiting in agony. She wanted to make sure he knew Em was safe.

* * *

T
WENTY
-
EIGHT
HOURS
LATER
, the longest hours of Mac's whole life, he hung up the phone after speaking to Shelby. He'd been all too aware of Carmichael, who was squeezed into the phone booth behind him, jabbing him in the back with a gun. Mac figured he might survive the loss of one kidney, but he wasn't too sure what else a bullet there might blow away. He'd have to wait for a better opportunity to make an escape attempt. At least now that he had spoken to Shelby, he knew Em and Mallory were safe in eastern Washington. From here on in, all he had to worry about was himself.

“Satisfied?” Carmichael snarled.

Mac turned slightly. “Yes.”

“Then take me to the package. And no tricks.”

“No tricks. It's hidden in my office building.”

Carmichael backed out of the phone booth, keeping the gun trained on Mac.

* * *

M
AC
KNEW
SOMETHING
was wrong the moment he approached the door of his office. The window had been broken. A chill of apprehension inched up his spine. Wouldn't it be just his luck if vandals had stripped the place? The first thing they would steal was a safe. He unlocked the door, put his hand on the knob, gave it a twist, stepped inside.
Relief.
The safe was still in the corner. He looked over his shoulder at the three armed men behind him. He wasn't going to get out of this one. Carmichael was going to plant a slug between his eyes the minute he got his hands on that package. The building was empty at this time of night, so no one would hear the shot.

Mac cast a panicked glance around him. No place to hide. nowhere to run. This was it. He tried to pray as he walked to the safe, but the only prayer he could remember was a dinner blessing he had learned as a child—
bless us, oh Lord, and these, Thy gifts.
Somehow it didn't seem fitting. So as he grasped the safe dial, he resorted to the basics, a straight-from-the-heart plea.
Please, God.
He didn't know for sure what he was requesting. Rescue would be nice. A bolt of lightning that struck everyone in the room but him, maybe? Salvation was less appealing, but it was certainly a thought, given the fact that he was about to meet the Grim Reaper.

“Hurry it up!” Carmichael shoved the barrel of his gun against Mac's temple. “You're stalling.”

One more number. Mac heard a click. The safe door swung open. His legs wobbled a bit. Sweat was running down his face.
Come on, Mac, where's your pride?
He took a deep breath and tensed, trying to prepare himself for the explosion of noise, for the sudden pain that would surely come, even if only for an instant. In his mind's eye, he pictured Mallory's face, then Em's. Knowing they were together made everything worthwhile, all of it, even dying.

“What the hell? Where is it? I told you, no tricks!”

Mac focused on the inside of the safe. His guts clenched.
No package?
He stared at the small piece of white paper lying there, unable to believe his eyes. “It isn't a trick. I left it here, I swear it.” He had an insane urge to laugh.

Carmichael snatched up the paper to read what was written on it. Mac swiped at his upper lip, relieved that the gun was no longer pointed at his skull.

“That stupid little—” Carmichael butted the safe door with the heel of his hand and whirled to glare at his men. “The Christiani woman has taken the package. Can you believe it? The naive little twit thinks she can play power games with me?”

Now Mac's legs felt
really
wobbly. Mallory? She was supposed to be in eastern Washington. Less than thirty minutes ago, Shelby had said, “Don't worry, Mac. Em and Mallory are both okay.” Shelby had never lied to him. Well, maybe
never
was too strong a word, but he certainly didn't make a habit of it. Surely he wouldn't have started now. Or would he? A wave of nausea rolled over him.
Damn.
Mallory had stayed in Seattle? Like an idiot, he had brought her to the office and let her see him open the safe. She must have memorized the combination and come here to take the package, probably to try to bargain for his release. He couldn't bear the thought that she might end up getting herself killed for him.

Carmichael started roaring orders. “We have to meet her down at the Mukilteo ferry at twelve fifty-five. There isn't much time. I want every available man on this.”