* * *
“That’s true, but Mac had already arranged the session with Dr. Devins, right?” Luc jiggled his leg up and down as his mind raced.
“No more talking.” Culvert glared at them, then turned his attention back to his phone.
Priscilla leaned closer. “Yes,” she whispered. “Is Laura involved too?”
He kept his voice soft. “Mac seemed to think it was someone inside the marshals. I’d say that’s very possible.”
She winced. “I thought Laura was my friend. This is a nightmare.”
“As a marshal working with Mac on the team, she would have had access to where you were, even before we actually met her.” Luc gave her hand a squeeze.
“But why? What would make a psychiatrist and a US marshal do these terrible things?” The anguish in Priscilla’s voice coupled with the tears now streaming down her cheeks prompted Luc to draw her into his arms. He wasn’t able to take away her pain or confusion, but he could offer a shoulder to cry on and a warm hug. For now, that had to be enough.
* * *
A short while later, Luc looked up at Culvert, who had padded across the room without a sound. His stealthy actions must have aided him as a hired killer, given his ability to move about even in a place as creaky as this old cabin in silence.
Culvert pointed to Priscilla. “Is she asleep?”
“Yeah.” Luc tightened his arm slightly around the dozing Priscilla.
The man grunted as if in reply. “Wake her up.”
“Are we going somewhere?” Luc hated to disturb Priscilla—she’d had little rest these last few days.
“No, but I’m hungry and, since you’re both here, figured I wouldn’t need to cook for myself.” Culvert eyed him. “Unless you can cook, you’d better wake up Sleeping Beauty.”
As if on cue, Luc’s stomach growled, reminding him how long ago it had been since the aborted breakfast. “I can cook.”
Culvert gave a mock bow and swept his arm toward the far corner where a camp stove rested on a wooden table. “Then you’d better get on with it.”
Luc slid his arm from around Priscilla, then inched forward to gently ease her sleeping form onto the couch. She stirred but didn’t awaken. He wished he’d had a blanket to cover her with.
In a box on the floor beside the table, Luc found several cans of black beans, a can of mixed vegetables and a box of elbow macaroni. Rooting around in the bottom of the box, he came up with a couple of packets of barbecue sauce. Black bean pasta bowls it is. Next to the propane camp stove he discovered two pots and a can opener. Not much in the way of a weapon, but good for making a hot lunch.
After opening the cans and pouring the contents into the smaller pot, he hit the first snag. Culvert had returned to his position in the chair, his attention on the front door.
Luc walked over carrying the larger pot. “Where’s the water?”
Culvert didn’t turn his gaze from the door. “There’s a pump out back. Don’t do anything foolish.”
Luc nodded once and headed out back, wishing he had Mac’s cell phone. He had sent the GPS coordinates of the cabin before he’d entered the clearing to the marshal’s personal cell phone, and now he prayed Mac hadn’t been hurt too badly to pass along the info to local law enforcement or the FBI. The pump handle moved easily, water gushing out and nearly overflowing the pot.
The sun had taken up position high above him, but the trees still hadn’t shed all their leaves, leaving the tiny clearing shrouded in shadows. An animal rustled in the undergrowth. Luc jumped and only just managed to hang on to the pot’s handle. Water splashed onto his jeans. A pair of squirrels darted from the right to race across the yard, disappearing into the forest once more. Yet his heart didn’t stop hammering.
Luc shivered despite the mild autumn day, an overwhelming desire to be inside the cabin’s four walls quickening his steps. Funny how he sensed evil not inside the cabin in the presence of a man who killed others for a living, but outside these walls.
Almost on autopilot, he found the lighter, got the stove going and heated the water and the beans and veggie mixture. After adding the noodles to the boiling water, he spotted a coffeepot and asked permission for another quick trip to the pump for more water. Hot food and a hot drink—that was what was needed to boost his and Priscilla’s spirits. He gave little thought to what Culvert would think of the meal, choosing to focus on her well-being. Back inside, he put the coffeepot on the other burner and turned up the flame.