Switchback Read Free Page A

Do you know what this is about?”
    â€œI—no—I—” Mallory swallowed. “You’re really serious.”
    â€œDead serious.”
    â€œWhy didn’t Keith simply call the police?”
    â€œHe said Lucetti has a couple of cops on the payroll. He must have been afraid, not sure who was safe to talk to and who wasn’t. Mrs. Christiani, Pete Lucetti heads one of the largest crime rings in Seattle. He’s bad news—
real
bad news.”
    Silence fell over them, such complete silence that Mallory could hear herself breathing. Her gaze dropped to the mustard stain on Mac Phearson’s shirt. She hesitated. Christiani and Finn was one of the most prestigious law firms in Bellevue. Surely no one associated with the firm would be dressed so scruffily.
    The man heaved another exasperated sigh. “I had a run-in with a kid toting a hot dog. I know I’m a mess, okay? My flight was late getting in. I went directly from the airport to coach baseball—changed into my sweats in the dugout. During break, I went up to the pay phone to call for my messages. After hearing that recording from Keith, I didn’t take time for anything. My other clothes are in the car.”
    â€œDo you have any identification? Something besides a business card? For twenty dollars, you can have one of those made up proclaiming that you’re just about anything, a snake charmer, an underwater basket weaver, anything.”
    An angry glint crept into his eyes and he reached for his wallet. When his hand skimmed the smooth hip of his sweatpants, he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Mrs. Christiani, if I were some nut case looking for an easy target, would I pick on a woman in a busy hospital? Didn’t you hear what I said? An extremely dangerous man has threatened to kill you and your daughter. Do you think Keith would have left me that message if he hadn’t believed you were in serious danger?”
    â€œI’ve no proof that he even called you. Keith and I are very close. If he had been in trouble, he would have told me.”
    Mac Phearson parted his lips to make a retort but was cut short by the sharp sound of footsteps as someone came up behind them. Both he and Mallory glanced at the direction of the sound to see a priest rounding the corner up the hall. The priest paused midstride, his gaze coming to rest on Mallory. With a thoughtful frown, he reached a hand under his jacket. Mac Phearson cursed under his breath, seized Mallory by the arm and pulled her between him and the wall. Leaning sideways, he punched the elevator button and then slid his hand under his windbreaker. When Mallory saw that he was pulling his gun, she shrank back.
    The priest had drawn a square of paper from his pocket. He studied it a moment, then resumed his pace.
    â€œI thought he’d recognized you and was going for his weapon,” Mac Phearson hissed. Hiding her from the other man’s view, he whispered, “Don’t scream. Please don’t scream.”
    Mallory wouldn’t have dreamed of it. This man was clearly suffering from paranoia. He had his gun concealed between their bodies. If he accidentally pulled the trigger, the bullet would go straight through her right breast. She could feel the tension in him, his muscles coiled tightly, his breath coming in short, uneven rasps. She craned her neck toward the priest. The man looked completely harmless to her, just a priest making duty calls to sick parishioners. He had probably pulled the paper from his pocket to check a room number. Mallory watched him, willing him to look her way again. If only he would see what was happening and help her. To her dismay, he walked past, sparing her not a glance.
    A heavy ache pooled in her lower abdomen, and she pressed her shaking knees together. Mac Phearson’s features swam before her in a dark blur. Her brain kicked into low gear, registering everything in slow motion with superclarity: