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his breathing, the drumming of her own pulse, the beads of sweat popping out on her forehead. The chime signaled the elevator’s arrival on their floor. The instant the doors slid open, Mac Phearson jerked her half off her feet into the cubicle, releasing her only long enough to holster his gun and hit the lobby button.
    Mallory threw a panicked glance at the swiftly closing doors. There hadn’t been time to run before Mac Phearson had grabbed her arm again. She stood there in frozen horror and tried desperately to think what to do. If she screamed, would she be heard? How well were elevators insulated? And suppose someone did hear her? Was she willing to jeopardize the lives of innocent people? This man couldn’t be sane. He might open fire in the busy lobby.
    He threw her a look that seemed to mirror her own feeling of terror. “Look, I’m sorry about this, but right now my first priority has to be getting you out of here in one piece. If that means I have to be a little heavy-handed, it’s better than you getting killed.”
    Hysteria closed her throat. She had read about this kind of thing occurring, but she had never dreamed it could happen to her.
Think. Don’t give way to panic.
What was the best way to handle someone who had lost his grip on reality? Appearing calm was a must. Angering or frightening him could prove fatal, not just to her but to others.
    She ran a cottony tongue over dry lips. Suddenly, insanely, she wanted a drink of water. Visions of her little girl’s face swept through her mind.
Emily.
Mallory didn’t want to die. Not yet. She had left too many things undone. She wanted to hug her daughter and tell her one last time how much she loved her. There were some dirty dishes in the kitchen sink. She hadn’t finished weeding the violets yet, either. And who would take care of Keith?
    Mac Phearson was watching the floor numbers flash on the panel above their heads. Without looking down at her, he gave her a perfunctory pat on the back, which she presumed was meant to comfort her. “With any luck, they’re all upstairs, Mrs. Christiani. Maybe we’ll make it out of here with no trouble.”
    Mallory had no idea who
they
were. Pete Lucetti? The name sounded like something out of an old gangster movie; it had nothing to do with reality. Who was this man? And where was he taking her? She fixed her gaze on the left front panel of his jacket. Having the gun out of sight did little to comfort her.
    â€œWhere’s your daughter?”
    â€œSh-she’s staying with friends.”
    â€œDo they live far from here?”
    Mallory could only pray her face didn’t betray her. “A long way.”
    â€œHow long has it been since you spoke with her? Since you knew for sure she was all right?”
    â€œThis morning.”
    He threw her a sharp glance. “Did she attend school today?”
    Surely he didn’t know what school Emily attended. “Yes.”
    â€œYour sitter takes her and picks her up, I take it?”
    â€œShe has kids who go there.”
    â€œDoes she keep a close eye on Emily?”
    Mallory was startled. He knew her daughter’s name? Of course, he could have learned it in a dozen different ways, not necessarily through an association with Keith. Indecision held her paralyzed. His gray eyes locked with hers, compelling her to answer him. “I—yes, she watches her closely.”
    The floor panel light indicated that the elevator was approaching the lobby. Mac Phearson took a deep breath. When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, he looped an arm around her shoulders and propelled her forward into a short hall that opened into the lobby. The lean, hard ridges of his body pressed against her arm. She felt him grow tense, and her heartbeat accelerated.
    What if he were telling the truth? As she watched his gaze dart suspiciously around the waiting area, she couldn’t help wondering. He seemed as