MICHAEL WASN’T PREPARED FOR THE SIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM. ISABEL WAS COVERED IN BLOOD
and was so pale she looked as though she was about to pass out.
The policeman with her stepped forward to introduce himself. “I’m Officer Patrick Field,” he said. “And who are you?”
“Michael Buchanan,” he answered, but his attention remained on Isabel.
“And you’re here for Miss MacKenna?”
“Yes.” His answer was curt.
Field was pretty sure he knew what Michael was thinking, and so, for at least the fifth time, he wearily said, “It’s not her blood.”
Relieved, Michael said, “Good. That’s good.”
“She wasn’t injured,” Field insisted.
Isabel remained silent. She was having difficulty getting past the surprise. Dylan had sent Michael to help her. Wasn’t he supposed to be in Afghanistan or somewhere else halfway around the world?
Apparently not, since he was standing a foot away from her. Her reaction to him was quite strange and not at all rational. Instead of getting her back up because he was such a bonehead, she had the almost overwhelming desire to throw herself into his arms and plead for him to get her out of there as quickly as possible.
They stared at each other for a long minute, or so it felt to her. She really couldn’t tell the difference between minutes and hours. Ever since the shooting, time seemed to stand still.
Michael hadn’t changed much. He could still make her shiver and irritate the dickens out of her at the same time. Nothing new about that. He was one attractive man in an outdoorsy way, even when he was frowning. He had a little more muscle now; his hair was longer, and there were fine lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
He gave her a slow once-over, and she knew he had to be appalled. Probably couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Admittedly, she looked as though she had jumped into a vat of blood. Not a pretty image to anyone but a vampire. She knew there was dried blood on her face and neck. And everywhere else, she supposed. Even the tops of her tennis shoes were saturated. God only knew what she smelled like. Maybe iron. It was not a perfume she would have chosen.
“Are you okay?” Michael asked.
The sympathy in his voice almost unhinged her. “Yes,” she answered. She wanted to yell, No, I just killed a man! How do you think I am?
Michael was doing a good job of hiding his reaction to her. He didn’t seem to be the least bit bothered. She couldn’t say the same for everyone else they passed. It had been noisy when they entered, but as soon as they started across the crowded office, where a large number of detectives, police officers, and staff members were working, everyone stopped what they were doing and gawked at her. No one made a sound. It was mortifying.
Their poor manners were a reminder to her. She looked up at Michael and said, “How are you, Michael?”
He didn’t smile, but he came close. “I’m good.”
“I’m sorry you were dragged into this. You don’t have to stay.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
There was a thread of steel in his voice that actually was comforting, and she immediately felt a tinge of relief. She wasn’t going to have to go through the rest of this nightmare alone. Unless they decided to lock her up. As soon as the horrid thought popped into her head, she blocked it. Now was not the time to panic. She could handle this.
When they reached the hallway, Field turned to her and said, “I’m going to put you in one of the interview rooms. You can wait there for the detectives.”
Until now she hadn’t made a fuss. In fact, she’d been extremely cooperative and had done whatever was asked of her. All that was about to change.
“No, I’m not going to do that.”
“What?” Field asked. He was sure he hadn’t heard correctly.
“I’d like to wash my face and hands, and then I’d like to leave.”
“That’s not possible. You have to answer questions before you can leave.”
“Am I being arrested?”
“No, but you—”
“If I don’t get this blood off my face and hands, I’m going to start screaming.”
Michael didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell her she was already screaming.
Field wasn’t at all diplomatic. “Ma’am, you’re yelling at me.”
She looked at Michael for help. Maybe he would know what to do to get them out of there. If she weren’t so tired, she’d try to run, but even as emotionally exhausted as she was, she knew that was a bad idea.
Michael could see that Isabel had clearly reached her breaking point, and after the god-awful time she’d had, he was surprised and proud that she’d lasted this long. She was a lot stronger than she looked.
He took over. Turning to Field he said, “First things first. Where can she clean up?”
Field led the way to the bathroom, and while Isabel went inside, Michael waited in the hall.
“While you’re waiting, you might want to take a look at this,” Field said, handing Michael a phone. “One of the neighborhood women got a video. It’s taken from across the street, but you can see what happened pretty clearly.”
Field tapped the phone, and the video started. There were loud voices of shock and outrage from whoever was standing nearby, but the view in the distance was clear enough to recognize Isabel and a wounded man throwing himself into her arms, then together falling on the sidewalk. He was grasping her hand and pushing a gun into it when suddenly another man sprinted around the corner, a gun raised. He fired twice. Isabel instantly took aim and shot, then dropped the gun and turned her attention back to the victim at her side. The video ended there.
“Wow,” Michael uttered, shaking his head.
“Understandable why she’d be a little shaken,” Field said, taking his phone and heading back to the interrogation room.
Now knowing what Isabel had gone through, Michael’s protective instincts kicked in. He stood outside the door, his arms folded across his chest, his stance menacing. He wasn’t going to let anyone get past him until Isabel came out.
Isabel was taking her time. She glanced in the mirror and gasped. She looked horrible. It took a while to scrub the blood off her face and neck. Her arms were next. She unzipped all the pockets of her jacket and removed the few items inside, placing them on the shelf above the sink. Besides her phone and wallet, she found an old peppermint that had come out of its wrapper and was covered in lint, a couple of folded tissues, and an old flash drive. The tissues had blood on them, and so did the flash drive. She tossed the peppermint and tissues into the trash, then carefully wiped off the flash drive and tucked it into one of the front pockets of her jeans. She put her wallet in her back pocket with her hotel room card.