Switchback by Catherine Anderson

replied, “The problem is, I don’t like wasting broads. Call it what you like, but it doesn’t sit right. It’s one thing when you get a direct order to rub out some whore no one cares about. It’s another to decide to do it on your own, especially when the victim is a—”
    â€œLady?” Paul supplied in a snarl. A compulsive stirrer, especially when he was nervous, he clanked his spoon in his cup, driving the other two men at the table and everyone else in the restaurant half crazy with the noise. As always, he ended the stirring with two loud thunks on the edge of his cup. “Will it sit better if it’s you who gets it? If the boss sees what’s in those ledgers, we’re all three goners. Do you think I’ve come this far to get caught because you’re feeling chivalrous? I say knock her off. Better her than us. It’s the only way I can see to stop her. Look at the facts, man. The boss has her brat. She’ll do anything to get that kid back. Nothing will stop her, not as long as she’s alive.”
    Dennis Godbey sighed and propped an elbow on the table, his blue eyes sliding from one of his friends to the other. “My vote is to take her out tomorrow. I’ll do it if George can’t.”
    â€œIt’s not that I can’t handle it!” George snarled. “I just think there ought to be another way, that’s all.”
    Paul laughed softly. “Right. Why don’t we simply call her and tell her our problem? I can hear it all now. ‘You see, Mrs. Christiani, we were in cahoots with Miles, cheating our boss. Those ledgers you have will finger us. If that happens, we all die. The way we see it, it’s your daughter’s life or ours.’ Come on, George. Do you think she’s going to care? He’s got her
daughter
. We have to take her out. When the old man leaves Intensive Care, we’ll get rid of him, too. End of problem until after everything goes through probate. When the box is finally opened, we’ll find out who gets the contents and arrange to steal the ledgers before anyone reads them. It’s simple, clean, and we come out smelling like roses.”
    â€œJust like the boss would do it?” George said softly. “No loose ends. Don’t you ever get sick of it? That’s why we got ourselves into this mess in the first place.”
    Paul began stirring his coffee again, his hazel eyes intent on the swirling liquid. “Oh, I’m sick of it. We’re all sick of it. But I’m not so fed up that I’m willing to go swimming in the sound with bricks tied to my ankles.”
    â€œI vote we do it from a distance,” Dennis inserted.
    â€œI’m game,” Paul replied. “And you won’t hear any more arguments from George, either.” He gave his spoon a final clank, skewering Paisley with a meaningful glare. “Right, Georgie Boy?”
    * * *
    A FTER M ALLORY WENT UPSTAIRS , Mac placed two phone calls, one to the King County Police and one to Beth Hamstead. He hated lying, but he had to be sure well-meaning cops or friends didn’t unwittingly do something to panic Lucetti. Emily was home, safe and sound, Mac told them. They had found her wandering one of the back roads. No more searching necessary. He apologized profusely for all the trouble that had been caused. Kids would be kids. Seven-year-old girls didn’t always stay in the yard as they were told. There was another call Mac wanted to make, to his best friend, Shelby. He needed to find out who those three men in the cream-colored car were.
Fast.
Shelby could do the legwork for him. What if Lucetti had tapped the phone lines, though? A call like that could be disastrous. He’d have to phone Shelby from a booth in the morning.
    Once Mac felt certain he didn’t have to worry about the Hamsteads or the police complicating matters, he did the dishes, one ear cocked toward the stairs to listen for