“If by old country, you mean Philly, then yes, that’s true.” Dr. Devins touched his wife’s shoulder as he squeezed past her to join Luc near the open door. “Come on—I’ll introduce you to the house agents while she finishes the salad.”
“What is this, the 1950s? Why aren’t you helping?” Laura called after him.
“I thought you didn’t want my help!” her husband teased back as he led Luc to the living room, where a slender African American man sat on a worn leather couch tossing cards into an upside-down baseball hat. Seated on a matching love seat, Marshal Myers leaned back with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to reveal a dragon tattoo covering most of his left forearm and a rose encircled with thorns on his right arm. Definitely not what Luc thought a US marshal would look like, but if he kept Priscilla safe, Luc didn’t care how many tattoos he had.
Dr. Devins stopped beside the couch. “This is Luc, who got caught up in this mess with Priscilla.” Myers and the other man rose as Dr. Devins introduced Marshal Aaron Aldrich.
Aldrich shook Luc’s hand, sizing him up. Luc resisted the urge to explain his relationship with Priscilla under their scrutiny.
“Steven?” Laura appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“Coming, love.” With a wink, Dr. Devins disappeared into the kitchen.
“Those two make me sick.” Myers’s smile took the sting out of his words.
Aldrich raised his eyebrows. “Only because he’s happily married, and you can’t seem to find any woman to go out with your ugly self.”
“That may be, but at least I try.” Myers retook his seat. “You’ve given up on love after Darcy broke your heart.”
Aldrich chuckled as he sat down, his relaxed demeanor showing he didn’t take Myers’s remark seriously. “Pay no attention to him and his sob stories, Luc. He’s just sore because I beat him in rummy earlier. Now he won’t play another hand with me. I’m reduced to tossing cards into a hat for entertainment.”
Luc grinned and took the opposite chair. “You two must be partners.”
Myers nodded. “How did you know?”
“You’re bickering like unhappily married folk.” Luc settled back into the battered club chair. “Is Priscilla awake?”
“Yes.” Priscilla spoke from the archway that led to the bedrooms. Her hair twisted up into a loose topknot made her look even younger.
He gestured to his outfit. “We could be twins.” Priscilla’s clothes echoed his: jeans, white Converse sneakers and a loose-fitting flannel shirt.
When she smiled, his heart squeezed inside his chest, but he ignored the feeling. Better to concentrate on finding who was behind these attacks so he and Priscilla could discuss the best way to end their quickie marriage.
“I suspect someone went shopping at the hunter’s outlet store.” She stepped farther into the living room. “Hi, Myers, Aldrich. Nice to see you again.”
“Wish it were under better circumstances.” Aldrich retrieved the cards from the hat and reshuffled.
“Did I interrupt your card game?” Priscilla sank onto the couch next to Aldrich.
“Nah, I beat him earlier, so he quit,” Aldrich countered.
“Dinner’s ready,” Laura called from the kitchen.
Throughout the meal, Luc said little, but his eyes frequently strayed to Priscilla as she exchanged stories with the marshals and teased Aldrich and Myers about their lackluster love lives. After dinner ended, Priscilla said she would take care of the dishes, and Luc immediately volunteered to help.
In the kitchen, she washed and he dried, as the dishwasher was on the fritz. He didn’t savor the domesticity of the scene, as he might have if they had a real marriage, but instead wondered how he could bring up the idea of an annulment.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Priscilla cocked her head as she handed him a glass to dry.
Without thinking, Luc blurted out a version of the truth. “I was thinking of how many married couples wash dishes together.”
Priscilla bit her lip, her eyes troubled.
He should have kept his mouth shut.
“I’m sorry, Luc.” Her gaze slid away from his to stare down into the soapy water. “I don’t remember you, let alone marrying you.”
She swished the water around and pulled a plate out, dipping it into the rinse water and stacking it in the drainer. “You know what’s strange? This morning, while I slept, I did dream of a wedding.”
He tried to act casual, but inwardly, he couldn’t help but be excited. Hopefully, this would lead to remembering him. While it might be easier to ask for an annulment if she didn’t remember their wedding, pushing for it now smacked of taking advantage of the situation. He nodded encouragement, not trusting that he wouldn’t say something to break her train of thought.
Priscilla wrinkled her brow as she scrubbed another plate. “I was there, not in a white dress, though. I’m not sure if it was my wedding or not. But there were white roses and Elvis. Not young Elvis, but the rhinestone-jumpsuit version.” She shrugged and stacked the plate in the drainer. “How silly is that?”
Luc sucked in a breath and concentrated on not overreacting. Stay calm. His heart pounded, but he managed to say in a low voice, “Was he singing ‘Love Me Tender’?”
Her hands stopped cleaning the plate. “How did you—”
“That was our wedding.”
That brought her head up with a snap, shock rimming her eyes. “What?”
“We got married in the Graceland Wedding Chapel.” He swallowed past the lump of emotion clogging his throat, the thought that maybe this was a breakthrough that would lead to their having a real discussion about their future. “An Elvis impersonator presided over the ceremony.” His lips twisted with a smile. “Or, I should say, Jumpsuit Elvis did.”
Priscilla’s entire body stilled.
Luc kept his voice steady as he added, “He sang ‘Love Me Tender’ after he pronounced us husband and wife.”
* * *
Priscilla stared at Luc, her hands holding the plate she’d been about to wash suspended over the suds. Her dream wasn’t a dream at all but a memory! Were the bricks at last coming down from the wall her subconscious had erected after witnessing the shootings?
The plate plopped back into the sink, shooting bubbles into the air like confetti. “That was us? You were the one beside me?” She couldn’t slow the revved emotions in her body any more than a blow-dryer set on high. “I’ve had that dream off and on for years, but never saw the groom’s face or even thought it was my wedding.”
Despite the soapy water, Luc took her hands in his and gave them a light squeeze. “I am relieved to know you didn’t completely block out everything from that night.”
“You make it sound like I did it on purpose.” She pulled her hands away and plunged them back into the water to grab another plate. His tone might not have been accusatory, but his words still rankled.
“I didn’t ‘block out’ anything—I saw something so horrifying, I haven’t been able to remember all the details of that night or the hours before the shootings.” She rinsed the plate and stopped herself from slamming it into a slot in the drainer.
Luc spread his hands, palms up, in a conciliatory gesture. “Priscilla, I didn’t mean to imply...”
While washing the last plate, she plowed over his words. “Maybe not, but you seem to think that I should be overjoyed to see you, and by merely telling me we’re married, I should fall into your arms.” She set the plate into the drainer and pulled the plugs in the double sink.
“No, that’s not true.” He held out the towel to her.
“I think it is.” She snatched it and dried her hands. It felt good to let some of the anger and fear over the situation with Culvert spill over.
She tossed the towel on the counter. “How did you find me? I know you said a bunch of stuff about knowing where to
look, blah, blah, blah. But since you appeared, I’ve been shot at, nearly set on fire, and hit on the head.” She planted her hands on her hips, her voice rising. “How do I know you didn’t bring Culvert’s attention to me? That he didn’t find me because of your searches?”
“That’s a very good question.” Mac offered a tight smile from the kitchen doorway. “One that we’re looking into.”
Priscilla reined in her emotions with several deep breaths. “I didn’t think you’d be back until tomorrow morning.”
Mac pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head as he assessed her with a sweep of his eyes. “You look better than when I dropped you off here at 6:00 a.m.”
“I feel better. Not quite back to my old self, but better.” She flicked a glance at Luc, then voiced a question that had been burning in her mind since Luc’s initial revelation that he was her husband. “Have you found out whether he’s even telling the truth about us being married?”
Mac reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and extracted a folded piece of paper. “That was one thing I had the office double-check. With the time difference, it took a little longer to get an official copy of the marriage license.”
She took the paper and unfolded it, scanning it quickly, then reread more slowly. Her real name, Priscilla Ann Makin, and signature scrawled across the bottom silenced the misgivings in her mind. Luc’s slash of a signature underneath his own name left no doubt this man was her husband. “We really did get married.” She read the location again. “In Las Vegas, the day before the shooting.”
Mac nodded. “And we got the results of a background check on Luc. He is who he says he is.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence after confirming it in black and white.” Luc crossed his arms over his chest.
Priscilla wouldn’t apologize for Mac and the marshals doing their job, not after all that had happened over the past twenty-four hours. “They have to check, to keep me and other witnesses safe.”
“I know.” Luc blew out a disgusted breath, as if the fight had drained out of him like the water swirling down the sink. “I think I’ll go read for a bit, then hit the hay early. I’m still pretty wiped out.”
Priscilla refused to make any attempt to stop him. When he had gone, she sighed. “I’m glad he checked out, given that we’re married and all, but I still don’t like the coincidence of his showing up and my life turning upside down. I liked my last job. I had friends. Things had been calm even before the FBI had captured Culvert eighteen months ago.”
“It does seem a bit improbable to have Culvert escape custody and Luc run into you in close proximity, but from what we’ve been able to determine, Luc’s story checks out.” Mac nodded to the wedding license she held in her hand. “I’m going to need to hold on to that until things are resolved.”
“Of course.” She handed it back, sadness creeping over her at yet another example of her unorthodox life. She couldn’t keep anything in her old name, anything that would tie her to her old life. If she still had that life, she’d be married and probably have a few kids underfoot by now. Tears welled and she blinked rapidly to clear her vision as well as to strengthen her resolve. She’d cried enough tears over what wasn’t to be, and she wasn’t going to shed any more. “I think I’ll go to my room too. It’s been an eventful day.”
“That’s probably a good idea. I’ll be back to see you tomorrow afternoon.”
Priscilla paused in the kitchen doorway. “You’re not staying?”
Mac shook his head. “I’ve got another case that we’re preparing for trial. I have to be in the office in the morning for a meeting. Don’t worry—Laura, Myers and Aldrich will remain on the premises. There are also marshals monitoring the perimeter of the house. You’ll be well covered.”
“That’s what we thought at the last safe house.” Priscilla shuddered at the memory of the fire exploding in the living room and their narrow escape through the crawl space.
“Try to get some sleep.” Mac didn’t even try to contradict her, merely patted her shoulder before she walked down the hallway to the bedroom next to Luc’s.
Priscilla couldn’t help but wonder if she would even live long enough to find out if she liked being married or not.
TEN
Luc punched down his pillow but the readjustment of its shape did little to lull him to sleep. The bedside digital clock clicked over to 11:35. The emotional roller coaster he’d been on since reconnecting with Priscilla had drained him. He’d soared hearing Priscilla describe part of their wedding. Then his hopes plummeted to learn just how limited her recall was. Her distrust of his motives also hit him in the gut, although his mind told him she was right to wonder if the events of the past two days had any connection to him.
He rolled onto his back and stared into the darkness. How would they ever be able to discuss ending a marriage that never really got started with a houseful of marshals and a killer on the loose?
There would be no more sleep for a while. He might as well get up. Maybe playing cards with Aldrich and Myers would burn off some of this energy and help him wind down enough to fall asleep. Luc tossed back the bedding, then grabbed the clothes he’d strewn over the back of the chair and dressed.
In the living room, Aldrich sat on the couch dealing a hand of cards to Dr. Devins, who occupied the club chair. The pair looked up at Luc’s entrance.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Dr. Devins picked up his cards.
“Too much on my mind.” Luc sank onto the love seat. “Rummy?”
Aldrich grinned. “It’s the only game in town. We’ll deal you in next hand.”
“Thanks.” Luc stretched as the doctor discarded an eight of spades. “What kind of doctor are you?”
“He’s the kind that messes with your head.” Aldrich snapped up the eight of spades, then laid out a spread with three eights.
“Aldrich meant I’m a psychiatrist.”
“Are you messing with mine?” Luc watched a few more minutes of play in silence.
“Smoked you again.” Aldrich put down a run, then discarded his last card.
Dr. Devins threw down his hand in disgust. “How do you do that?”
“I was a card shark in another life.” Aldrich scooped up the cards and shuffled.
“That I believe.” Dr. Devins smiled. “Maybe with Luc playing, I’ll do better.”
“Wishful thinking.” Aldrich dealt Luc into the game.
As the trio gathered their cards, Dr. Devins said, “We were shamelessly listening in on your conversation with Priscilla. She didn’t remember many details about your wedding, did she?”
“Or about you.” Aldrich stacked the remaining cards and flipped the top one over.
Luc raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment. He arranged his cards as if the words hadn’t stung. No man liked to think he was forgettable.
Dr. Devins started the hand by drawing a card. “Confession. Besides wanting to spend time with my lovely wife, Mac asked me to come along because of my subspecialty.” He discarded a ten of hearts.
Just the card Luc wanted to go with the jack and nine of hearts. “What’s that?” He picked up the ten and laid down his spread, before adding a three of clubs to the discard pile.
“Hypnotherapy.” Dr. Devins regarded Luc over his cards. “I’ve had good success with helping people remember clearer details about events surrounding a traumatic episode in their lives, whether it’s the death of a loved one, an accident or, in a few cases, a violent crime.”
Luc ignored Aldrich’s play, his attention riveted on Dr. Devins. “You’re saying you can help Priscilla remember by hypnotizing her?”
“It’s possible.” Dr. Devins nodded to the cards on the table. “Your turn.”
Luc glanced at the discard pile, but didn’t need the top card. As he drew one from the deck, a loud popping noise erupted outside.
“Get down!” Aldrich dropped his cards on the coffee table and drew his gun in one smooth action.
“I’ve got the witness covered!” Laura yelled from the back of the house.
Dr. Devins and Luc hit the floor as a high-pitched whistling sound rent the air.
Luc hunkered behind the love seat, torn between not getting in the way of the marshals and wanting to crawl down the hallway to check on Priscilla. The last time he’d entrusted Priscilla’s safety to someone, it hadn’t turned out well. Just as he was about to make a dash for the hallway, another round of whistling exploded in the air.
A few feet away, Aldrich spoke into the microphone of his earpiece. “What’s going on?”
The agent huddled to the left of the front door, peering out one of the side windows. Another round of pops startled Luc, making the muscles in his body jump. Through the curtains, the darkness outside brightened with more explosions.
“It’s okay.” Aldrich stood and holstered his gun. “The sheriff’s department confirmed it’s fireworks. The local high school is celebrating a big football win against their crosstown rivals. The game had been delayed, and it ended later than usual.”
Luc scrambled to his feet. “You’re sure it was just fireworks and not a diversion?”
“Yes,” the agent said.
Luc’s heart rate slowed and his breathing returned to normal, but the incident had given him an inkling of what Priscilla must have gone through for years. To think that every unexpected pop and bang could be a threat and every person who looked at you twice had to be considered as a potential threat until ruled otherwise would make anyone leery of others.
* * *
“Fireworks.” Laura uncoiled herself from her position guarding Priscilla, who had been crammed into the far recesses of the bedroom’s tiny closet. “It’s been confirmed by the local sheriff’s department.” She holstered her weapon and stretched.
“Fireworks?” Priscilla emerged from the closet, staggering a little as the muscles in her left leg cramped in response to the stiff position she’d held for the past fifteen minutes.
Dangerous Christmas Memories Page 7