“Why agree to hypnotize me again?” Priscilla furrowed her brow as she stared at the psychiatrist. In other circumstances, Luc would have gently rubbed away those lines on her forehead in an effort to reassure her. But he didn’t want to draw additional attention to them.
“It wasn’t my idea.” Dr. Devins’s voice took on the whine of someone not used to having his way thwarted. “Mac insisted. I couldn’t say no without arousing his suspicions. I agreed.” He glared at Priscilla. “You remembered, all right. You recalled every detail of that night, including meeting me.”
Priscilla gaped at him. “I did? But the new memories were only about meeting Luc and the actual shooting, not about running into you.”
“That’s because I had to rehypnotize you at the end of each session, and even then, it wasn’t likely to stick for very long.” Dr. Devins wiped his hands on his pant leg. “I’ve been waiting for you to look at me and remember we’d met back in Vegas.”
Luc had heard enough. “You told Laura about Mac’s request, and she decided that if Culvert escaped, they could kill Priscilla with no one the wiser. Culvert would get the blame.”
“Something like that,” Dr. Devins replied.
“This still doesn’t explain why you kidnapped me.” Priscilla’s gaze went to Culvert, who had been silent during much of the exchange.
“Doesn’t it?” Culvert slapped the gun lightly against his leg, reminding Luc they were still in grave danger.
“You did escape from the hospital, and you did try to run us off the road in Fairfax,” Luc pointed out.
“I overheard my lawyers talking about how one witness was going to be hypnotized ahead of her testimony. I figured it was probably Priscilla, because she was one of the few witnesses Devins hypnotized who had disappeared. I asked some of my contacts to find out who was going to do the session, and when Devins’s name came back, I knew I had to be very careful.”
Luc shook his head. “There has to be more than Dr. Devins trying to cover up his own misdeeds.”
“There is,” a woman’s voice chimed in from behind him.
Luc whirled around to see Laura Devins, her Glock pointed straight at Culvert’s head.
TWENTY-THREE
Luc tugged Priscilla closer to him as Laura stepped farther into the room, circling them as she kept Culvert in her sights. The hit man hadn’t moved, his weapon still resting in his right hand against his thigh.
“Darling!” Dr. Devins started toward his wife, but was halted by the fierce look Laura gave him. “You’re okay. I was worried.”
“Not now, Steven.” She brought up her other hand to steady the gun. “Culvert, put your weapon down nice and slow.”
Culvert shook his head. “I think I’ll hang on to this for a little bit longer.”
With Laura’s attention fixed on Culvert, and Culvert and Dr. Devins looking at Laura, Luc took the opportunity to move back a step with Priscilla. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Laura hadn’t completely closed the back door.
Laura shrugged. “It will make things simpler when I shoot you to protect Priscilla.”
“How will you explain Luc’s and Priscilla’s deaths?” Based on Culvert’s smooth and unruffled voice, he might have been asking Laura if she wanted cream in her coffee.
Beside him, Priscilla stiffened at Culvert’s words. Luc tightened his grip on her hand, trying to offer comfort but not draw attention to themselves. He then managed to move them back another half step.
“Unfortunate casualties caught in the cross fire, or perhaps you shot them before I arrived. They were already dead when I managed to take you out.” Laura firmed her stance, her gaze never wavering from Culvert. “Either way, they end up dead.”
Dr. Devins gaped at his wife. “You’re going to kill them?”
“What did you think would happen here, Steven?” Laura narrowed her eyes, impatience radiating from every taut line of her body. “That you would work your hypno-mumbo-jumbo and we could let them walk away? Don’t be a fool.”
“I didn’t sign up to kill people!” Dr. Devins’s voice rose. “I helped people forget a traumatic episode, but I never wanted to hurt anyone.”
“You should have thought of that when you started a partnership with a hit man, darling,” Laura snapped.
Luc’s pulse quickened. The atmosphere, which had been tense, now escalated.
“I did it for you.” Dr. Devins spread his hands in supplication to his wife, who regarded him coolly, all emotion wiped from her face.
Only a few more steps to put them within reach of the door—and a chance at freedom.
“You didn’t tell him, did you?” Culvert’s voice cracked across the room.
Priscilla jumped, bumping into Luc, who steadied her as he moved them back another fraction.
“Tell me what?” Dr. Devins glanced from Culvert to Laura, his brows knitting together. When no one replied, he repeated his question.
“Then I will,” Culvert said. “Laura’s been gambling again.”
The blood drained from Dr. Devins’s face, bleaching it a sickly white. For a moment, Luc thought the man might pass out.
“You promised,” Dr. Devins whispered.
Luc detected a world of pain behind the psychiatrist’s words.
Dr. Devins cleared his throat. “You said you had stopped, that you weren’t gambling anymore. I couldn’t find any evidence on our computers. I thought you really had turned over a new leaf.”
“Maybe I just got smarter.” Laura tightened her grip on the gun, still trained at Culvert’s chest. “I asked some tech guys at work how to wipe away evidence of websites for good. You never even noticed.”
Luc managed to pull Priscilla another step closer to the door while the other two men kept their attention on Laura, who still stood a few feet away from Priscilla and Luc.
“How much?” Dr. Devins’s shoulders slumped. “How much did you lose this time?”
Laura shrugged. “Six months ago, I joined a new game, and I was winning. I was up two hundred thousand dollars. Two hundred grand.”
Luc could almost write the ending to this sad story by the bewildered tone in Laura’s voice. She had been in the black, but instead of quitting while she was ahead, she gambled for even bigger stakes—and lost it all.
“How much?” Dr. Devins demanded.
“A million dollars,” Laura said with a defiant gleam in her eyes.
The enormity of the sum distracted Luc from their escape. How could anyone lose a million dollars? And then, all at once, he got it. Someone had known Laura was a US marshal, had enticed her to play in a new game, had strung her along with big wins, then decimated her, drawing her deeper and deeper in debt. Having a US marshal owing that kind of money would give those criminals an inside source to finding the whereabouts of witnesses—valuable information they could then sell to the highest bidder. Which meant Laura had a lot more to lose than he’d thought—and they needed to get out of here fast.
“A million dollars!” Dr. Devins echoed, his own body language telegraphing his disappointment and despair. “Oh, Laura, what did you do?”
“What did I do? I did what had to be done to save us.” Laura swiveled to point her gun at Priscilla. “She gave me the perfect cover, but now that cover’s been blown.”
* * *
At those words, the rest of the pieces fell into place for Priscilla. Why Culvert had escaped from marshal custody, why Laura had tried to kill her.
“I’m not the target!” The words burst out of Priscilla’s mouth before she could stop them.
All eyes turned to Priscilla, who stayed perfectly still standing next to Luc, drawing strength from his form beside her.
“What do you mean?” Dr. Devins pointed to Culvert. “That man kidnapped you.”
“But why?” Priscilla pressed on. “Because Culvert needed a
bargaining chip with the marshals.” She could see she was right by the widening of Laura’s eyes. “If Culvert had me, then the other marshals would have to come rescue both of us.”
“Laura was trying to protect me,” Dr. Devins said. “That’s why she made all those clumsy attempts on your life. She wanted to be sure you wouldn’t remember me.”
Priscilla shook her head. “That’s what she wanted you to believe.” For a psychiatrist, he sure didn’t read his wife well. “But she had another agenda.”
“What other agenda could she possibly have?” Dr. Devins’s voice wavered.
Priscilla concentrated on breathing as the tension made the very air thick. She put into words the truth she’d pieced together. “To kill Culvert.”
Luc nodded. “To pay off her debt.”
“Isn’t that right, Laura?” Priscilla looked at the other woman, who now had beads of sweat on her forehead. “The deal was Culvert’s death in exchange for a clean slate with the people you owed money to?”
“Seemed like a fair trade.” Laura shifted her stance, raising her arms to steady her aim at Culvert’s head. “After all, he is a murderer—he killed people for a living. His death would be justice.”
“Which one of Culvert’s former clients wanted him dead?” Luc queried.
“Does it matter?” Laura snapped back. “The only thing I care about is that my gambling IOUs will be paid in full, once I finish the job.”
Priscilla took a step toward Laura.
“Don’t move.” Laura narrowed her eyes as she swung the gun back to Priscilla. “I only made attempts on your life to make everyone think Culvert was after you. That way, when you both ended up dead, everyone would blame Culvert.”
“But what about you? You can’t possibly think you’ll get away with killing all of us!” Priscilla couldn’t help pushing Laura more, even with the gun aimed at her chest. All her frustration for being on the run for so long spilled to the surface and made her taunt the other woman. “And what about Grammar? Why’d you kill him?”
“Had to have one dead witness to make it more believable.” Laura seemed unperturbed by the fact that she’d just admitted to murder.
“And Rachel?” Priscilla asked. Luc’s solid presence sparked courage in her to continue pressing Laura for answers.
“Collateral damage. I wasn’t sure how much Culvert had told her. They were friends.” Laura again aimed her Glock at Culvert, who still stood with his weapon by his side and a slight smile on his lips. “Enough talking.” Her index finger caressed the trigger.
Priscilla bit back a scream. They should make a run for it. But before she could tug Luc toward the back door, something inside the fireplace exploded with a loud bang and smoke immediately filled the room.
TWENTY-FOUR
As smoke poured into the room from the fireplace, Luc shoved Priscilla to the ground and dragged her under the table. The crack of a gunshot kept him prone over her. “Stay down!”
She coughed. “It’s hard to breathe.”
Luc angled his head to see if the way to the back door was clear. More shots whizzed above their hiding place. Shifting slightly, he leaned closer to her ear. “Is that better?”
“A little.” Priscilla pushed up against his body as more bullets flew past, spewing chunks of wood as they hit the wooden wall directly in front of them.
“We need to stay put.” Luc eased back to allow her more room, while still keeping his body between her and the bullets flying around them.
“No, the heater.” Priscilla pointed to the rickety old kerosene heater, blazing merrily away only a few feet from their table.
All at once, he understood her panic. With all the shooting, chances were a bullet would strike the heater and trigger a fiery explosion.
“Okay, we’ll make a run for it on the count of three.” Luc rose to a half crouch, wedging his body under the table as Priscilla did the same beside him. “One, two—”
The back door flew open with a bang. A SWAT team flooded the area. “FBI! Drop your weapons!”
The shooting stopped abruptly. Luc and Priscilla raised their hands. An officer grabbed Priscilla’s arm and hustled her out of the room, while another shepherded Luc.
Once outside the cabin, Luc coughed, his lungs burning from the smoke he’d inhaled. Officers moved them quickly away from the cabin to a group of agents wearing bulletproof vests, who frisked them for weapons.
A sandy-haired older man wearing an FBI vest pulled Luc aside. “Special Agent Jack Cravens,” he said as a second agent walked up. “This is Special Agent Jerry Suno.”
Suno eyed Luc up and down. “Are you hurt?”
Luc continued to cough as he shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Cravens waved over an EMT. “Let’s get you checked out just to make sure.”
Luc ignored the agents, craning his neck to find Priscilla. He relaxed when he spotted her across the clearing surrounded by three men in dark suits as well as a paramedic.
“What’s your name?” Cravens asked, as Suno whipped out a notebook and pen.
“Luc Langsdale.”
An EMT hustled up, his medical bag over one shoulder and a bottle of water in the other hand. “My name’s Tom. Let’s get you checked out.”
“I’m fine. I’m worried about Priscilla.” Luc started to walk toward her, but Tom put his hand on his arm.
“She’ll be taken care of. We need to make sure you’re okay too.” Tom handed him the bottle of water. “Take small sips. Do you want to sit down?”
“I don’t know.” Luc tried to twist off the cap of the bottle but his hands shook too much. The trees seemed to come closer to him as the sunlight faded behind their leafy branches. Luc was vaguely aware of Tom’s hand on his shoulder guiding him to the ground, then forcing his head between his legs.
“Breathe in and out nice and slow.” Tom draped a blanket around Luc’s shoulders. “Concentrate on breathing.”
Gradually, the spinning stopped. Luc raised his head.
“Better?” Tom crouched down beside Luc and uncapped the water bottle. “Here you go. You’ve been through quite a lot. Why don’t you take it easy for a little bit? I told the agents you wouldn’t be answering any questions for the moment.”
Luc sipped some tepid water, trying to refocus his thoughts. He didn’t think he could do anything other than sit there, but the need to know that Priscilla was all right drove him to struggle to his feet. He scanned the area, but couldn’t find her.
“Easy there.” Tom supported him with a hand under one of Luc’s elbows. “You should really stay seated for a bit longer.”
Luc took a step forward, searching for a glimpse of her, but all he could see were men and women dressed in either SWAT team uniforms or suits with bulletproof vests overtop. “Where is she?”
Tom frowned. “You said her first name is Priscilla?”
“Priscilla Anderson.” To the side, Luc spotted Culvert standing in handcuffs between two FBI agents. Good. At least that man was safely in custody again. Dr. Devins and Laura weren’t visible to him either. He hoped both had been cuffed and arrested too.
“I’ll radio my supervisor and see if she’s been taken to the hospital.” Tom spoke into his radio while Luc continued his visual search of the area.
“Good news. She’s on her way to the hospital, and you’ll see her soon, because you’re headed there yourself.” Tom smiled as two more emergency technicians arrived with a gurney. “Your ride’s here. Let’s get you loaded up and into the ambulance.”
“Is she okay?” Luc questioned. He was about to protest riding on the stretcher, but his legs went wobbly on him. Tom helped him onto the stretcher.
“I didn’t hear of anyone seriously injured.” Tom conferred briefly with the two other EMTs. “You’ll be able to find out for yourself soon.”
As L
uc lay back onto the gurney, his entire body sagging with spent adrenaline, he turned to the only thing he could do. Lord, please keep Priscilla safe.
* * *
Priscilla quickly dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt after her shower. At least this marshal hadn’t gotten her another flannel shirt. She would never wear flannel again.
She had spent hours being poked and prodded in the ER before being pronounced well enough to be discharged. A female US marshal whom she hadn’t met before had brought her yet another change of clothes and had finagled a shower for her in the female employee locker room. Her right knee ached, her left shoulder sported the beginnings of a large bruise from the seat belt and her head hurt. The ibuprofen had taken the edge off her aches and pains, and a good night’s sleep would help immensely. But who knew when she would be able to actually close her eyes, given the parade of FBI agents, US marshals and others who clamored for statements and information about the last four days.
At least she’d found out that Luc had arrived at the hospital safe and sound a few hours earlier. She’d wanted to see him with her own eyes, but her request had been ignored. Twisting her damp hair up into a bun, she wrapped an elastic hair tie around it and exited the shower area in her bare feet. Priscilla still couldn’t believe that Culvert had been recaptured, that the Devinses were in custody, that her life would return to normal—or at least what had passed for normal before Monday. Even Mac wasn’t in as bad shape after the truck attack as she’d feared.
Which meant that she could start thinking about the future. A future she hadn’t thought was even possible less than twelve hours ago. Maybe a future with Luc, the thought sending a warmth throughout her body. But she was grasping at straws. Who was she kidding? There was still the Culvert trial to get through, then the trial for the Devinses. Besides, she still couldn’t remember marrying Luc or what had prompted her to say yes to a man she’d met only hours earlier, despite their connection as teenagers. Her life wouldn’t be truly her own until she could leave witness protection—and, like she had told Luc, she couldn’t ask him to forsake his own family to build a new one with her.
Dangerous Christmas Memories Page 17
