She twisted in her seat to see what the police officers were doing. The cop who had approached their vehicle got out of the police cruiser and headed back toward the SUV.
“Okay, will do.” Mac ended the call. “How are you doing, Mr. Langsdale?”
“Hanging in there.” Luc, with his eyes closed and his head leaning against the seat back, spoke in a voice that sounded thready. “That last maneuver slammed my hurt arm against the door.”
“Hopefully, we’ll be on our way soon and get that wound looked at.” Mac tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “But it would delay us if Fairfax County’s finest saw a wounded man in my back seat.”
“I understand.” Luc winced.
“He’s coming back to the car. Stay quiet.” Mac replaced his hands on the steering wheel, his posture laid-back.
Priscilla held her breath as she saw in the driver’s-side mirror the approach of the officer, Mac’s badge folder in his hand.
“Here you go, Marshal.” The officer handed Mac his ID through the open window.
Fear gripped Priscilla hard as her stomach clenched. Please, let us go.
“It’ll be okay,” Luc reassured her in a quiet voice. “Remember, God is the one in control.”
She looked at Luc, whose steady gaze held a calmness she didn’t feel. He didn’t know it would be okay, but the reminder of God’s sovereignty and Luc’s composed expression relaxed her agitation.
The second officer suddenly moved back to his cruiser. Then he straightened to call to the officer still by Mac’s open window. “We’ve got a 401 in progress at the convenience store on Patrick Henry Drive.”
“Right behind you.” The cop turned back to Mac. “We’re finished here.” The officer walked back to his police cruiser and climbed in before turning on the siren and roaring away down Wilson Boulevard.
Mac started the SUV, then pulled onto the street. “We’re going to go to a safe house. It’s too dangerous to go back to your apartment. Someone will pack up your things later. Anything you can’t live without at the apartment?”
Priscilla thought about the sparsely furnished one-bedroom she’d called home for the past five years. While she had accumulated the usual detritus of life—books, DVDs, a few keepsakes from day-trip excursions around the area—there was nothing personal about those things, nothing that couldn’t be easily replaced. “No.”
Mac must have heard the sadness in that one syllable. “This will be over soon. We will catch the person responsible for this and you will get your life back.”
“I know.” Priscilla didn’t know what else to say. Mac was doing his job to keep her safe, and in turn she would do hers by obeying his instructions to the letter. The best way to stay alive was to do what the marshals said—she had had that drilled into her during the transition period. With Culvert on the loose again, she wasn’t about to jeopardize her own safety by doing something stupid like branching out on her own.
Priscilla closed her eyes as the last bit of adrenaline seeped out of her body and in its place a blanket of tiredness took up residence. As the SUV sped toward safety, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had been living an illusion of security that had come crashing down.
FOUR
Luc jolted awake when the SUV stopped. He couldn’t believe he had fallen asleep. The combination of the shooting, car accident and ibuprofen must have lulled him into catching a few winks. Stretching his back sent a stabbing pain in his arm, which receded to throbbing. Careful not to move his injured limb, he pulled out his phone to check the time. 6:38 p.m. They had been driving for around three hours.
Mac shifted in the driver’s seat to face the back and spotted Luc’s phone. “You’ll need to give me your phone, Mr. Langsdale.”
“My phone?” Luc wasn’t about to hand over his smartphone without an explanation. “Why do you need it?”
“Because you’re now in witness protection along with Priscilla. For security, you can’t contact anyone until we apprehend the man who’s after her. I’d have asked for it earlier, but you were sleeping.”