* * *
“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.
Laura shot her an amused glance. “Unfortunately, no one from our team connected with the local sheriff’s department to see if anything unusual was going on tonight. If we had, we’d have been alerted to the possibility of fireworks after the local high school football game.”
Priscilla tried to focus her thoughts on the information being shared, but truth be told, she was just thankful it was only a fireworks show, which meant she—and Luc—was safe.
Laura yawned. “I need some coffee. You want some?”
Priscilla shook her head. “It will just wind me up more. I’m already jumpy.”
“I hear you.” Laura opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hallway, but didn’t pull the door completely closed.
Priscilla sat on the edge of the bed, her limbs still shaky even though the danger had passed. Fireworks to celebrate a football team’s victory—a normal, happy occasion. That was all. She breathed in and out slowly, counting to ten with each inhalation and exhalation.
As she focused on calming breaths, her mind flitted back to the conversation with Luc earlier, and she lost the rhythm of breathing. Her distress over the fight with Luc heightened as she recalled the snippy tone she’d used with him over discovering the dream was an actual memory.
Even as the angry words had poured out of her mouth, she couldn’t deny there was a connection between them, one that had sprung up gossamer thin from the moment she’d met his gaze at the hair salon. Those vivid blue eyes had reached deep into her soul and touched her heart. She didn’t believe in love at first sight—that old trope was trotted out only in fairy tales and romance movies.
Then why did her heart flutter when he was near? That he felt something for her wasn’t in doubt—she just wasn’t sure what that was.
Her phone rang and she grabbed it, grateful for the distraction from her own thoughts. A quick check on caller ID revealed Mac was calling.
“Priscilla, are you sure you’re okay?” Mac’s calm voice on the other end of the phone soothed her frazzled nerves.
“I guess I’m still jittery after the fireworks scare.” That was all Mac needed to know. If she were being honest, the anxiousness had more to do with remembering bits of her wedding to Luc.
“That’s understandable. We shouldn’t have been caught off guard about the school activities.” Mac cleared his throat. “I didn’t get a chance to talk with you privately before I had to head back earlier, but I wanted to talk about Dr. Devins.”
“The shrink?” She paced the length of the bedroom.
“I think he’d rather be referred to as a psychiatrist. He has a specialty in hypnotherapy.”
That halted her movements. “Wait—is this the doctor you mentioned a couple of months ago, who might be able to help me recover my memories of that night?”
“Yes, he’s the one. We usually don’t have civilians along on protection details. However, Dr. Devins has been trained by the marshals to accompany agents to safe houses to help interview witnesses who have memory issues.”
“Like me.” Priscilla resumed her pacing. “What’s the plan?”
“For Dr. Devins to have a hypnosis session with you tomorrow morning.”
“Okay.” Maybe at last she’d remember more than the shooting.
“Priscilla?”
Something about his tone made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. “What aren’t you telling me?” She rubbed her forehead.
“It’s something at the Grammar crime scene.”
She frowned. “The witness Culvert killed.”
“Yes.” Mac didn’t elaborate for several seconds, and the tension in her shoulders tightened. “This afternoon, when the techs returned to finish processing the scene, they discovered an envelope in the mailbox.”