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window. He gripped the gear shift until his knuckles hurt. His first inclination was to stop the car and take her into his arms to comfort her, but he instinctively knew it wouldn’t be wise. She wasn’t the type who wept easily. Before she would break down in front of him, her pride would have to go. And right now, her pride, and fear for her child, were all that held her together.

Chapter Four
    Mallory was quiet as Mac Phearson pulled his Volvo into her driveway. The windows of the house yawned black against the white siding. A shiver raised goose bumps on her skin. Without Em and Keith here, the place looked as lonely as a tomb, an impersonal mass of wood, plasterboard and brick. As they climbed out of the car, he shot uneasy glances over his shoulder to check the cul-de-sac. Her heart lifted with hope. Surely Lucetti knew where Keith lived. Coming home had to be the smartest move.
    â€œGot a key?”
    As she climbed the steps, she unzipped her bag and became so engrossed in her search she stubbed her toe. Mac snaked an arm around her waist and steadied her. Too tired to care, she leaned against him, letting him guide her up the remaining steps. “My keys aren’t here.”
    â€œWhat?” He released her and grabbed the purse. After rummaging a moment, he swore and dumped the contents of her handbag onto the porch. He sorted through the pile and then said, “Well, isn’t that great. Did you leave them in your car?”
    â€œNo. The alarm goes off if I leave them in the ignition. I know I had them when I went into the hospital. I do have a spare set in the house for all the good it does me.” Mallory groaned and plopped down on the top step, hugging her bent knees. “I’ve heard of Murphy’s Law, but this is too much.”
    â€œI can get in. That’s not what bugs me. Was there an opportunity for someone inside the hospital to have had a moment alone with your handbag?”
    Mallory pursed her lips in thought. “I left it for a couple of seconds—right before I went into the ICU to see Keith, I stepped up the hall to a sitting area to get a
National Geographic
that I had seen earlier, lying there on a table. I wasn’t gone but a second, though. And there wasn’t anyone else in the hall.”
    â€œA second is all it would take if someone was watching you, waiting for the right moment.”
    â€œWhat makes you think they were stolen? I could have dropped them by your car when we left.”
    â€œNo, I would have heard them fall. Let me go check the floorboard.” He left her for a moment to search his car. As he walked back up the steps to the front yard, he called, “Nothing.”
    â€œThey could have spilled out when we were on 405. When the door was open. My purse might have gotten dumped.”
    He leaned over to eye the assortment of odds and ends. “Pretty selective dumping. Besides, you had it zipped.”
    â€œI could have zipped it while I was driving around the lake tonight. I remember looking for a tissue.”
    â€œI still say that if the keys fell out, other things would have, too. Someone’s rifled your purse. Look at all this stuff. And there’s not a scrap inside the car.”
    He lifted a wad of tissue and several other pieces of paper as if to use them to prove his point. One of them was a small photograph. He stared at it a moment and then dropped it onto the pile, but not before Mallory glimpsed her daughter’s face. Her hand flew toward the photo. A small cry escaped her before she could bite it back.
Emily.
Mallory could almost hear her giggle, smell her hair and the curve of her neck where silken curls escaped her braids. Was she alive? Hungry, cold? Not knowing was awful. Funny how clearly she could remember her first smile, her first tooth, her first step. And, oh, how the memories hurt. Like a knife twisting in her guts. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she rocked forward until her