The locker room was quiet. Frowning, Priscilla poked her head into the other shower stalls but no Ilene. The toilets had no one there either. A shiver of unease coiled around her shoulders.
Ilene shouldn’t have left her alone—Mac expected the female marshal to stick close by, so where was she?
A row of tall lockers stood opposite the bank of showers. Priscilla eased toward them, her heart rate accelerating. What if Ilene was stuffed inside a locker? She was letting her imagination and the events of the previous twelve hours make her paranoid.
Priscilla turned just in time to see the outline of someone raising a blunt object over her head.
“Nooo!” Priscilla raised her arms to defend against the attack, but the blow struck hard and she crumpled to the floor.
EIGHT
Luc tossed the weeks-old People magazine back onto the pile on a table in the clinic’s small waiting room. Mac had disappeared into an office with two of the four marshals who had arrived while Priscilla was showering. The other two patrolled the exterior of the building.
After all that had happened, he didn’t like to let Priscilla out of his sight. If Mac trusted Ilene to keep her safe, Luc knew he should be able to do the same.
Should being the operative word. He should be able to let the marshals do their job. But something didn’t feel right. He’d overheard enough from Mac and the other agents last night to piece together the facts. Priscilla had seen someone commit murder, and that precipitated her entry into the witness protection program. The suspect—Cuthbert or Culvert—had escaped custody, evidently to silence Priscilla for good. Luc wasn’t sure why the man would risk trying to kill Priscilla when he would have known the marshals would step up their security given his escape, but the marshals hadn’t mentioned anyone else who would want Priscilla dead.
A glance at the wall clock revealed twenty minutes had elapsed since Ilene and Priscilla entered the women’s locker room. He would check on them. The quiet, dimly lit hallway made the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. His sneakers squeaked on the shiny floor as he approached the sign indicating the women’s locker room. He placed his hand on the door handle, then paused.
This was ridiculous, checking up on Priscilla when a US marshal was her bodyguard, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. If he entered and Ilene reprimanded him, so be it. He could stand a little embarrassment to put his unease to rest, and perhaps Priscilla wouldn’t be too embarrassed for his bursting in.
Squaring his shoulders, he knocked, then pulled open the door and entered. Silence greeted him. He stopped in the L-shaped curve that kept the changing areas hidden from the outside door. He listened intently. Luc inched up to the top of the L and peered around the corner. A movement at the far end of the locker room caught his eye.
“Marshal?” He approached the area and spotted Priscilla lying in a heap, partially hidden by one of the benches. He dropped to his knees beside her, resisting the urge to gather her into his arms. Instead, he reached down and touched his fingers lightly to her neck. Her heartbeat pulsed beneath his fingers and her eyelids fluttered. Luc sighed in relief.
He rocked back on his heels to further assess her, but instantly sensed a presence behind him.
“Keep your hands where I can see them.” The marshal spoke over his left shoulder.
Luc raised his hands. “Ilene, what happened?”
The woman rounded the bench. “What did you do to Ms. Anderson?” Her Glock was aimed at his chest.
“Me? I didn’t do anything. I came to check on you two and found her like this. Where were you?” Luc didn’t lower his hands. “Priscilla’s hurt. She needs medical attention.”
Ilene held the gun steady with one hand and pulled her cell phone out with the other. She hit a button before holding the phone to her ear. “Mac? Send the doctor to the women’s locker room. Something’s happened to Priscilla.”
She slipped the phone back into her pocket. “Now, step away from her slowly and keep your hands raised.”
Without objecting, Luc scrambled to his feet, his hands reaching for the ceiling, and moved back from the still form on the floor.