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scared as she was, which meant he truly believed they were in terrible danger. Her thoughts flew to Emily again. Mac Phearson was either totally immersed in make-believe or on the level. Her skin prickled. Had someone really threatened to kill her and her daughter? Mac Phearson
had
reached for his wallet earlier, presumably to show her his ID. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he
had
forgotten his wallet in his street pants, just as he had claimed. And there
had
been a priest in the ICU visiting Keith.
    What if? She recalled the terror she’d seen in Keith’s eyes, the feeling she’d had that he’d been trying desperately to tell her something.
    They were halfway across the lobby. Time was ticking by, second by treacherous second. If she was going to scream and try to get away, it was now or never. The click of her shoes against the tile resounded inside her head as her captor led her through the milling people. She fastened her gaze on a toddler fleeing from his mother. If Mac Phearson was unbalanced, he might pull his weapon and fire indiscriminately. On the other hand, what if he was perfectly sane and telling the truth? What if there were killers in the hospital?
Now or never. Now or never
, her mind taunted. A few more feet and they would be out of the building.
    Mallory couldn’t be sure what it was that finally decided her. Perhaps it was the firm but somehow gentle pressure of Mac Phearson’s grip on her arm. Or the way he walked, turned slightly toward her, as if he were trying to shield her. She only knew she couldn’t risk being wrong. It was broad daylight, after all. There were bound to be people in the parking lot. If he was telling the truth, he had identification in the car. She would simply demand to see it before going anywhere with him.
    A sea of parked automobiles stretched before them as they left the loading area. Mac Phearson never broke stride as they crossed the parking lot. His arm felt unnervingly strong vised around her shoulders. He was a tall man, heavily muscled and agile. If he wasn’t who he claimed to be, she was in big trouble.
Just as far as the car.
If he didn’t come up with identification then, she’d scream so loudly that people on the next block would hear.
    He drew her closer to his side. “Lean into me and look down, Mrs. Christiani.”
    â€œWhat for?”
    â€œTo hide your face.
Just do it.
”
    Mallory almost refused, but the urgency in his voice compelled her. She dropped her chin to her chest and pressed her shoulder against his ribs.
    He quickened his pace. “Be sure you don’t look up.”
    â€œIs there really someone out here?” Now that was a brilliant question. If he was lying, would he admit it?
    â€œIn a car to our left, two rows over. Three men. Listen to me and listen close. If I tell you to get down, I want you to drop right where you are. Understand? Don’t try to run.”
    Surely this wasn’t an act. Fear inched up her spine.
    â€œThey may have a perfectly legitimate reason for sitting there. But it pays to be safe, and they look suspicious. If they have guns, I can’t see them. My car’s not far.” He fished in his jacket pocket for his keys. “Just a few more steps. You’re doing great.”
    He drew to a stop and reached across her to unlock the door of an old, blue Volvo. As he opened the door, he took hold of her elbow and shoved her forward, giving her no time to protest.
    â€œFasten your seat belt,” he ordered, as he slammed her door.
    On the floorboard was an array of tools, including a hefty screwdriver and a tire iron. An investigator might use such things. On the other hand, so might a killer. Mallory reached for the door handle. She threw open the door, but before she could get out, Mac Phearson had climbed in on his side.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” he snarled. “You don’t seem to understand, lady. This isn’t