Priscilla was too wired to follow Mac’s train of thought clearly. “If he just died, that wouldn’t be unusual, right?”
Mac paused. “It wouldn’t be if it hadn’t been addressed to me.”
She gripped the phone tighter, not sure she wanted to hear what the envelope contained. “What was in it?”
“A printout of your photo with the words You’re next scrawled across it.”
She nearly stopped breathing even as her heart rate galloped. “When...?” She tried again. “When was it taken?”
“I’ve already shared this with the team at the safe house. Everyone’s on high alert. He will not get close enough to hurt you.” Mac talked fast. “My supervisors agree that you’ll be safer staying put with the extra security than moving you again.”
She refused to be distracted from the question that burned in her mind. “What was I wearing in the photo, Mac?”
“Scrubs. You were wearing the scrubs from yesterday’s trip to the clinic.”
ELEVEN
Priscilla tied her sneakers, then yawned. The brightness of the morning sun streaming in through the venetian blinds did little to improve her mood. The revelation that Culvert had been close enough to her yesterday to snap a photo had her tossing and turning all night. That, and shame at the way she’d treated Luc last night.
The bottom line was that she didn’t remember him, and she wasn’t sure she could trust him. But that was no excuse for being mean. She didn’t want to face him, didn’t want to face anyone, but her stomach growled in protest of hiding out.
The aroma of coffee brewing greeted her as soon as she opened the door. I can do this. She glanced at her shaky hands, then rubbed them on the side of her jeans. A little jumpiness was normal for someone in her situation. The marshals would assume it had something to do with the photograph. No one would tie it to her kitchen encounter with Luc. Had anyone filled him in on the recent findings?
Myers stood with a mug in his left hand outside the kitchen. His head jerked and his right hand immediately went to his holster when she approached. Then he relaxed his stance. “Good morning, Priscilla.”
“I see I’m not the only one on high alert.” She paused in front of him. “Coffee?”
Myers moved out of the way to allow her to pass. In the kitchen, Aldrich fried bacon while Marshal Devins filled mugs with coffee.
“Oh, I need some of that.” Priscilla stepped forward, then noticed Luc tucked into the far corner with his own mug in hand. Their eyes met, but she quickly dropped hers to focus on fixing her mug with one packet of sugar and a dollop of cream. “I’ll get out of the way. Too many cooks and all that.” With a smile of thanks, she scurried out of the kitchen and into the living room, where Dr. Devins sat with his feet propped on the coffee table.
“Good morning, Priscilla.” He straightened. “How did you sleep?”
She settled into the club chair and wrapped her hands around the mug. “Not well, knowing Culvert won’t stop until I’m dead.” She lifted the mug and breathed in the scent before taking a tentative sip. Still too hot for her to drink.
“I can see how that would impact your sleep.” Dr. Devins sipped his coffee. “How are you holding up?”
“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I feel like I’m dancing on a razor’s edge, and one wrong move will send me sliding down.”
“That’s only natural, given the events of the past few days.” He sat quietly for a few seconds. “The marshals will catch this guy.”
“I know.” But it might be too late.
“Did Mac tell you why I’m here?”
Priscilla nodded. “He mentioned you wanted to hypnotize me to bring back more memories.”
“With Luc in the picture, I think there’s more of a chance that you’ll remember even more details about the shooting and recover the missing hours too.” Dr. Devins regarded her over the rim of his cup. “I understand you’ve tried hypnosis before with no luck.”
“That’s right.” She blew across the coffee surface in her mug to cool it down, then took a small sip. Perfect—nice and rich, just the way she liked it.