Page 23 of Dangerous Christmas Memories

“Sit on that bench and don’t move.” Ilene tipped her head in the direction of one of the benches.

As Luc lowered his body gingerly onto the wooden bench, the outer door opened, and Mac, followed by Dr. Collins, rushed in. Ignoring Luc, the pair hurried over to Priscilla. Luc tried to follow exactly what the doctor said to Mac about Priscilla, but the distance and the distraction of Ilene standing with her gun pointed directly at him made concentrating difficult.

Two more agents entered the locker room, conferred briefly with Mac and began searching the area.

“Do you think you can put that away?” Luc appealed to Ilene. “I’d never hurt Priscilla.”

Ilene eyed him, then holstered her weapon. “Do. Not. Move.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Luc wrapped his fingers around the edge of the bench, angling his body to see what was happening. Dr. Collins still bent over her, but Luc could see she was alert and appeared to be answering his questions.

Ilene, her eyes never leaving Luc, stood to the side with Mac.

Luc nearly wept with relief when Priscilla sat up and discarded her hair towel. She was okay. The doctor said something to her and she replied, but Luc could hear only the beating of his heart in thanksgiving for her safety.

Mac walked over to him, his expression grim.

“What happened?” Luc stood. “Will she be okay?”

“Dr. Collins said she suffered a blow to the head but her hair wrapped up in a towel absorbed much of the blow. As a result, she was only stunned. Exhaustion fed into her unresponsiveness.” Mac had his phone out. “We’ll need to keep an eye on her, but it looks like she’ll be okay.”

“Who hit her? And why did Ilene leave her alone?” Luc had been tired but this third close call with Priscilla spiked his adrenaline again. He wanted to be doing something.

“We don’t know.” Mac shook his head. “Ilene said that she received an urgent text purportedly from her daughter’s nanny. She stepped outside the locker room to make a phone call. Cell phone reception isn’t great in here for long phone calls.”

Luc frowned. “But she wasn’t here when I—”

“She had to walk around the corner, but kept an eye on the outer door, which was why she spotted you entering.”

The wheels spun in Luc’s mind, and he played out the scenario. “Then how did whoever hit Priscilla get inside?”

“Looks like a window over one of the toilets has been jimmied open.” Mac’s expression remained hard.

“They were locked, but a professional wouldn’t have had any trouble gaining access,” Ilene interjected.

Another marshal joined them to report. “The premises are cleared, and no footprints on the ground outside the windows in this locker room. The outside security cameras don’t cover the back side of the building.”

“Thanks.” Mac glanced at his phone. “We’ll leave in five. Tell the others.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket as Dr. Collins and Priscilla walked up. “How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts. Again.” Priscilla’s smile wobbled on her lips. Her skin hadn’t regained its color, leaving her looking frail.

Dr. Collins patted her shoulder. “I’ll send some acetaminophen with you for the pain, but you need to wait a few hours before taking it. The nurse will give you an ice pack. Place it on for twenty minutes, then off for ten, repeating as necessary to help reduce the swelling on the contusion.”

Mac interjected, “Got our destination. We’ll be leaving in a couple of minutes.”

“Are you sure Priscilla’s ready to travel?” Luc fought the urge to wrap her up in his arms and tell her everything would be okay. He wanted only to see her to safety to discuss what happened seven years ago.

“I’ll be all right.” Priscilla flipped a wet strand of hair over her shoulder, but Luc thought he detected more bravado behind the gesture, as if she was pretending to be fine. “I can rest in the car.”

Luc frowned. “Shouldn’t you stay awake because of the bump on the head?”

“She has a small contusion above her left ear, but since her towel turban absorbed most of the blow, she didn’t suffer from a concussion,” Dr. Collins explained.

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