The marshals then directed Priscilla and Luc to eat at the tiny kitchen table, while they took over the small living room for a private conference. Which was fine by Luc, as he’d welcomed some time alone with Priscilla.
Luc took a sip of his iced tea. “How are you holding up?”
“I wish people would stop asking me that.” She unwrapped a straw and pushed it into the top of her Diet Coke.
“Sorry.” He dunked a french fry into the ketchup before eating it.
She raised her eyebrows. “Come on. Out with it.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed. “What you’ve been dying to ask me, of course.”
He chuckled. “Am I that transparent?”
Priscilla traced a line of condensation along the side of her plastic cup. “The good news is that I did remember meeting you and spending time with you while on the mission trip when we were teenagers.” She related the events up until her boss fired her.
He bit back his frustration at the brick wall her memories had come up against. At least he wasn’t a total stranger to her any longer—that was progress.
She hesitated. “Would you say a blessing for our lunch?”
Surprised, but pleased, he nodded, then offered a short prayer of thanksgiving for their safety and a petition to catch Culvert soon. They ate in silence for a few minutes.
Priscilla chewed a french fry and swallowed. “I’ve been thinking about that night. My memory is like one of those old reel-to-reel films that’s being restored. Sometimes the frames are out of order, but sometimes there are several frames intact together.”
“You’ll get there.” Luc finished his burger. “You’d tried hypnotherapy when you first entered the program, right?”
“Yeah, that didn’t turn out so hot. Dr. Devins is better. The other doctor blamed me for not remembering. He said I was intentionally repressing the memories. I never went back to him.”
Luc wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “When did Mac mention it again?”
“I think it was maybe ten weeks ago, when we were going over my initial witness statement to prepare for the trial. He asked if I would be willing to undergo hypnosis again.”
“And you said yes without any hesitation?” He popped the last bit of burger into his mouth.
“I agreed, as long as it wasn’t with the previous doctor. Mac assured me that they’d lined up a new psychologist. Dr. Devins has done more research into hypnotherapy and published a few papers in medical journals. Earlier, Dr. Devins said we could do another session this afternoon, but I guess that will have to wait until we’re settled in a new location.”
Luc wasn’t sure there was such a place. “Who else would know you were considering hypnosis again?”
Priscilla narrowed her eyes and her body stiffened. “You don’t think it’s a coincidence that someone is trying to kill me now that I’ve resumed hypnotherapy?”
“No, I don’t.” Luc kept his voice low, his eyes never leaving her pale face. “I think someone doesn’t want you to recall any more details about what happened that night.”
FOURTEEN
Luc snagged a couple of paper towels, then grabbed the bag of microwave popcorn. After their meal, several more marshals had arrived bearing groceries, fresh clothes and serious expressions. Based on their somber looks, Luc didn’t waste any time suggesting to Priscilla that she join him in one of the bedrooms for a movie on TV. The last thing she needed was to overhear the marshals debriefing about the morning’s harrowing events.
“Did you find something to watch?” He couldn’t help but smile seeing Priscilla in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a faded University of Virginia sweatshirt, her damp hair loosely braided after her shower. It did his heart good to see her relaxing. He could see vestiges of the carefree teenager he’d met that long-ago summer in the Arizona desert.
“There’s not much on at five on a Wednesday, mostly home improvement shows or the news.”
Luc joined Priscilla on the small love seat squeezed into one corner of the bedroom. He plumped a pillow behind his back and head, then handed her a paper towel. “Choose whatever you’d like to watch. To be honest, I’m just enjoying the quiet time with you.”
She waggled the remote at him. “I need something to take my mind off everything that’s happened.” She cracked a smile, the first he’d seen in a long time. “We could watch Turner Classic Movies. I love to watch old black-and-white films, and Turner is playing Suspicion with Cary Grant and Joan Fontaine.”
Luc returned her smile. “I’ve been meaning to watch that one. Hitchcock, right?” He held out the bag of popcorn to Priscilla.
She popped a handful of kernels in her mouth and nodded. “Suspicion it is.” She leaned back and snuggled down a bit, her body slumping sideways just enough for their shoulders to touch.
When she didn’t move away, Luc relaxed too. This was normal, like any other couple watching a movie. Except that they weren’t a couple at all.
Watching the film close to her distracted him in a whole other way. He breathed in the flowery scent of her shampoo, the fragrance reminding him of the small bouquet of flowers she’d carried at their wedding.
As he reached into the popcorn bag, his hand brushed hers. Against his better judgment, he ate more popcorn than he really wanted just to have more opportunities to “accidentally” touch her hand. All too soon, the bag was empty, and Luc placed it on the end table.
At the climactic scene where Grant’s character drives recklessly on a narrow road along a cliff, Luc glanced at Priscilla. Her eyes were closed and her breathing even. His attention shifted from the TV to his sleeping companion. He shifted slightly, raised his right arm, and her head lolled onto his shoulder, fitting snugly against him. Memories of their brief time together in Vegas threatened to overwhelm his senses.
She sighed in her sleep, and he laid a featherlight kiss on the top of her head. The rest of the movie played out, but his attention was solely on Priscilla. His eyes traced the contours of her face, noting the faint worry line creasing her forehead. He gently traced a path from her hairline to her jawline with his index finger. Beneath the pad of his finger, her skin was soft.
Priscilla stirred and opened her eyes, sleep darkening the blue of her irises. His hand stilled at her jaw. When she didn’t shove it away, he continued his exploration, moving his fingers across her brow and lightly outlining her eyebrows.
“I’d forgotten how beautiful you are.” His whisper stirred a wisp of hair onto her cheek, and he tucked the strand behind her ear.
“I didn’t know you existed until three days ago.” Her voice, low and husky from her short nap, inflamed his heart. “Everything’s mixed up inside my head.”
“Shhh.” He pressed his index finger lightly across her mouth. “It’s okay. Everything’s a bit mixed up in mine too.”
Her lips tensed against his finger. Was that a kiss? His hopefulness awakened a fresh desire to cover her mouth with his own, but he should quash that yearning. He hadn’t searched for Priscilla to start a relationship.
Removing his finger, he waited, his eyes searching hers for a signal as to what she wanted. What he saw in their welcoming depths made him want to close the gap between them. But he didn’t move a muscle, willing to let her make the first move.
“Luc?” The question hung in the air.
“Yes?” His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he could almost taste the saltiness from the popcorn that must coat her lips.
When her tongue darted out to her bottom lip, he pulled back slightly, needing to put space between them. His resolve had been weakened to the point that any second he might break the promise just made to himself.
“Would you kiss me?”
Her request made him smile. “With pleasure.”
Slowly, Luc fanned his hand across her cheek. He ran his fingers throu
gh the silkiness of her braid. Her eyes darkened, and her own hand reached up to touch his face, stroking her fingers along his five o’clock shadow.
Priscilla tugged his head down and placed her lips on his mouth. Luc kissed her gently, wishing he could prolong the moment, but forcing himself to extract himself from her embrace.
Luc pushed himself up off the love seat, noting with a twinge of satisfaction that her own breathing had quickened.
“I’ll go check on dinner plans.” He grabbed up the empty popcorn bag and headed out the door. His senses reeled from the kiss that had reminded him with the force of a hurricane why he’d married this intriguing woman at the drop of a hat. He had wanted to give Priscilla his protection until she got back on her feet after losing her job. Memories of their time together as teens had made it easy to propose. When she’d left without a trace hours after their wedding, he had been more hurt than relieved. Learning why she had vanished had stirred compassion in his heart for his missing bride.
Lord, keep Priscilla safe and help me to stick to my plan to release both of us from our impetuous decision to marry.
* * *
On the couch Priscilla wrapped her hands around a cup of steaming coffee, breathing in the rich aroma of Starbucks’ holiday blend. She hadn’t had a chance to talk much with Luc over dinner last night, and had barely said hello to him this morning, making her self-conscious and more than a little awkward. What would he say to her? What should she say to him after begging him to kiss her?
Her eyes went to Luc standing at the kitchen counter. He stirred cream into his mug with a spoon, making lazy circles around the inside rim of the cup.
The movement brought immediately to mind his gentle touch last night. She ducked her head as heat stole up her cheeks in memory of his kiss. Truth be told, she hadn’t been asleep the entire time. She had awakened but kept her eyes closed, enjoying the sensation of his fingertips gliding over the contours of her face. A warmth had invaded her, filling her with a mixture of tranquility and excitement. When she had opened her eyes and seen him staring at her, it had seemed natural to kiss him.
Last night, Laura had slept in the same room with Priscilla for security reasons, putting an end to any more kissing. Not that Priscilla had much experience with kissing. She’d had to keep the few men who had expressed interest in her at arm’s length because delving deeper into a relationship didn’t feel safe to her. Being in WITSEC meant she’d gotten used to relating on the surface level. Her head told her to keep her distance from Luc until she knew she would even have a life beyond witness protection. But that kiss had her doubting the wisdom of that idea.
“How’d you sleep?” Luc asked, breaking the silence between them. He sat down beside her, propping his sock feet up on the coffee table.
His body language helped to put her at ease, and some of her anxiety about the kiss melted away when he turned his warm gaze on her. “I slept okay.” She lowered her voice. “Despite Laura’s snoring.”
Luc laughed. “I see I got the better end of the deal. Myers had no such unwelcome habits. I slept like a baby.”
His cheerful admission irked her. Had she been the only one awake half the night thinking about their kiss? This was why she should stay far away from any hint of romantic entanglements—she would only make a fool of herself. She focused her attention on her coffee.
He moved closer and leaned in, his lips next to her ear. “Don’t you know that babies wake up frequently during the night?” He winked, then straightened.
His admission made her laugh, relief easing the tension that had been building in her shoulders. “It wasn’t as peaceful a night’s rest as you would have me believe.”
He sipped his coffee. “Not in the least. Are you surprised?”
Before she could respond, Aldrich arrived with bagels and cream cheese. Myers dragged the kitchen chairs to a small sitting area, and the three agents and Dr. Devins joined Luc and Priscilla for an impromptu breakfast.
Smearing cream cheese on an everything bagel, Myers took the lead. “Mac wanted us to go over the timeline again. We’re overlooking something.”
Luc selected a jalapeño bagel. “Like how Culvert knows exactly where to find Priscilla. That’s bugged me all along.”
“You found her.” Aldrich took a bite out of his bagel.
“Yes, but it took me several years and a lot of digging,” Luc said.
“Walk us through how you did it,” Laura requested.
Priscilla munched on a blueberry bagel slathered with strawberry cream cheese as Luc relayed the twists and turns of hunting for her. Since she had heard his story already, she focused on the timelines. Prior to his capture, Culvert had had years to find her and kill her. Granted, Culvert might not have been aware of her as a witness until his defense attorney received notification of her existence during the discovery period. But even then, her identity had remained cloaked for security.
She licked a bit of cream cheese off her finger and took another bite. Culvert also had years to kill Grammar, who eschewed protection. Culvert’s trial was scheduled for December 13, only weeks away now. That could be the impetus for his targeting witnesses.
But Culvert had been incarcerated for eighteen months without any escape attempts. His appendicitis hadn’t been faked—it was a true emergency situation. Maybe Culvert had acted because the opportunity presented itself when he was hospitalized. But why not simply disappear? A man with his resources certainly had enough shady contacts to leave the country with falsified papers.
Then there were the attempts on her life. From all she’d heard—and seen—Culvert meticulously planned his assassinations. It was one of his hallmarks and the reason for his long, successful career. In contrast, the attempts on her life were amateurish in execution.
The niggling feeling that if Culvert wanted her dead, she would be dead, wouldn’t go away.
Her focus shifted to dredging up all her memories of the Las Vegas shooting. Culvert had remained calm throughout the entire event, even picking up the shell casings with gloved hands on his way out. While she had been anything but calm—her body shaking in its hiding place under a room-service cart’s thick skirting—Culvert moved stealthily through the room, making certain to leave nothing behind that would incriminate him.
She closed her eyes, her half-eaten bagel resting on a napkin in her lap. She’d stayed put for several long minutes after the kitchen door swung shut following Culvert’s departure. Just when she started to part the heavy fabric to escape, the door opened. A tall man with dark hair wearing a navy blue suit entered, his outline hazy as if she viewed his form through a film.
Then the image vanished.
FIFTEEN
“Priscilla?” Myers’s voice brought Priscilla back to the present.
“Yes?” Her cheeks warmed at being caught not paying attention to the discussion. “I’m sorry. I was woolgathering, as my grandmother used to say.”
“I was saying that we need to go over the turn of events since the shooting three days ago. Let’s review it step by step.” Myers stood, brushing crumbs off his lap. “How about some fresh coffee to fuel our meeting? I know I could use another cup.”
Priscilla looked down at her half cup of coffee. “I’m good.” She didn’t want to finish her bagel, and stuffed it into the paper sack along with the used napkins and empty individual cream cheese containers.
The others agreed that more coffee would be welcomed. Myers stepped into the kitchen to brew more java.
“Hey, are you okay?” Luc touched her hand briefly as Aldrich gathered the remains of their breakfast and Laura checked her phone for messages.
“I think so.” She blew out a breath, not yet wanting to share her new memory of another man. It was probably her overactive imagination. Until she recalled the man more clearly, she would keep that “sighting” to herself. “I want to do something besides re
hash everything. I hate feeling like a sitting duck, waiting for things to happen to me like some heroine of a fairy tale who reacts instead of acts.”
“What would you do?” Luc’s blue eyes were alight with interest.
“I’d start with motive.” Priscilla sipped her tepid coffee.
“Not to point out the obvious, but surely Culvert’s motive is that you’ll testify against him. Your testimony alone could put him behind bars for the rest of his life.”
She waved a hand at him. “I know that’s what the marshals think, but I keep circling back to why now. Like you pointed out, Culvert’s had years to track me down. But the thing is, I don’t think he even knew I existed until the grand jury indictment. I’m just listed as Witness Number Thirty.”
“I found you.” Luc sounded smug.
“Yeah, but it took you several years—and you had access to government databases.” Before she could explore her line of thought more, the marshals rejoined them in the living room, while Dr. Devins said he needed to return some phone calls and disappeared into one of the bedrooms.
Aldrich pulled out his notebook and read off the timeline. The map of events unfolded as everyone compared notes.
“When did Culvert kill Grammar?” Luc interjected.
Laura tapped her tablet. “It was the day of the fire at the safe house.”
Priscilla set her coffee cup on the table. “Could Culvert have killed Grammar and set the fire?”
“Let me check the distance.” Myers pulled up Google Maps on his phone to trace the route between Grammar’s house in Roanoke, Virginia, and the safe house near Petersburg, West Virginia. “It’s about a three-and-a-half-hour drive from Roanoke to the safe house. The medical examiner hasn’t narrowed down an exact time of death, but puts it between 11:00 p.m. Monday and 4:00 a.m. Tuesday.”
Dangerous Christmas Memories Page 10
