Sarah Hamaker - Dangerous Christmas Memories

Mac pushed his sunglasses up on the top of his head with his left hand, then placed it on the top of the door in full view of the cop. “Officer, there are two passengers in the back seat.”

The policeman moved a step back from the SUV. “Sir, I’m going to need you and your passengers to exit the vehicle.”

Another police officer had left his cruiser to stand a few feet from the passenger’s side of the SUV hood. As the air filled with tension, Priscilla’s heart began to pound. The taut stance of the cops radiated suspicion, but she couldn’t get out of the SUV without exposing herself to a potential assassin who might be lurking nearby. She didn’t want to find out if the shooter had improved his or her aim.

She focused her attention on Mac, who appeared unruffled, relaxed even, by the officer’s request.

Mac smiled. “I would be delighted to get out, but I’m afraid my passengers will have to stay put.” He kept his voice pleasant yet firm. “As I mentioned, I’m a US marshal. Someone with professional driving skills deliberately rammed into our vehicle, pushing us into oncoming traffic.”

The officer considered his words for a long moment. “Let me see your credentials.”

“Of course, Officer. I’m going to reach into my left breast pocket with my right hand.” Mac put actions to his words, moving slowly to extract his badge folder.

The cop accepted the leather folder and flipped it open, his eyes moving from the creds to Mac’s face and back again. “I’ll be right back.”

The second officer stayed in position, his hand on the gun butt, while the other cop walked back to his cruiser.

“What happens now?” Priscilla didn’t want to sit here a moment longer than absolutely necessary.

“We wait while he calls it in.” Mac’s phone rang, and he tapped the screen to activate the hands-free app. “Mac here.” A short pause, then Mac succinctly brought the caller up to speed on their present situation.

Priscilla fidgeted in her seat, wanting to be doing something, anything, other than hanging tight. Eavesdropping on Mac’s call distracted her from her fear that the person after her might suddenly appear and start shooting again.

“As soon as we’re finished here, we’ll go to location five, zero, alpha, Charlie, eight,” Mac told the caller.

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.

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.”

Luc shook the last of the cobwebs from his brain, his hand clutching the phone in a tighter grip. “What if I don’t want to go into witness protection? I have a choice, right?”

Mac exchanged a look with Priscilla, who stayed silent. “To enter the program permanently, you would have to agree to do so. However, this would be temporary. My top priority is keeping Priscilla safe, and right now, you’re along for the ride.”

“What does that mean?” Luc still kept his phone, not willing to hand over the device so easily.

“That you’ll need to stay in the safe house with Priscilla for a day or two while we get this sorted out,” Mac replied. “We’ll have marshals on guard around the clock while we figure out where to permanently relocate her. With your being a witness to the salon shooting, you might have noticed something that can help us catch whoever’s behind this.”

Luc had a hard time digesting that information. But the idea that he’d be able to talk more with Priscilla appealed to him. “Will I be able to at least let my family and employer know I’ll be gone for a couple of days?”

Mac shook his head. “Tell me who to text or email and what to say, and I’ll send it for you.”

Luc studied the marshal’s granite jawline. The other man wasn’t going to budge. Luc reluctantly reached over the seat to give Mac the phone. “I’m glad you take keeping Priscilla safe seriously, but I have to ask—do you trust anyone?”