“They’ll take you to the police station to question you. I’d have a lawyer there before you talk about what happened.”
A teenager with low-slung pants and tattoos across his bare chest chimed in. “I think she ought to get out of here now while she can.”
Another youth next to him agreed with a nod. “Yeah. That’s what she should do.”
The woman in the muumuu put her hands up to calm the growing tension. “She hasn’t done anything wrong. Let the police sort it out.”
An elderly man leaning on a cane edged forward. “Young lady, I haven’t seen you around here.
Are you new to our neighborhood?”
“No, uh . . . ,” she stammered. “I’m visiting Boston. I’m staying at the Hamilton.”
“My word, that’s a long way from here,” the old man said.
“I wasn’t paying attention,” Isabel admitted. “And I got lost.”
Glancing at the officers who had turned their attention to the victim, the marine said to her, “Hurry and tell your family where you’re going before they take you in.”
Nodding, she called her sister. She was still so rattled she didn’t know how she was going to explain what had happened.
Dylan answered. “Where are you? My brother’s at the hotel looking for you. You didn’t rent a car, did you? Oh God, you didn’t . . . did you?”
“No . . . I didn’t. Dylan . . . I . . .”
“Yes? What’s wrong?”
“I just killed a man.”
THREE
ONE WOULD THINK THAT NOTHING COULD BREAK UP A CROWD—EVEN A CROWD IN THE MOOD
to riot—faster than a torrential downpour, but that didn’t happen. Every man and woman was out for blood, and their main target was the young, loathsome Officer Morris, who had shouted gross and incendiary profanities at them when a couple of men told him to leave Isabel the hell alone. She didn’t think Morris was going to be a policeman long, for in her expert opinion he was really stupid.
She had taken two psychology courses in college and had learned how to spot an idiot—though, in truth, she had acquired that ability years ago—and Morris definitely fit the bill.
As quickly as the rain started, it stopped, but the heavy clouds and the rumble of thunder in the distance indicated another deluge was coming. A kind officer had thoughtfully held an umbrella over her during the downpour, so she barely got wet. Loathsome Morris, she noticed, was soaked through.
The older and more experienced policeman who had ordered Morris to stand down told her his name was Officer Patrick Field. He was an average-looking man of medium height with a receding hairline. Lean and lanky, he had a runner’s body except for the slight bulge at his belt. A dimple creased his square chin, and there were wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that indicated he was a man who laughed often.
Field was obviously the officer in charge and seemed to know what he was doing.
“I was the first on the scene,” Morris shouted. “I should take her in.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Field muttered. Then he shouted back, “No, you were not first on the scene, and you are not going to take her in. Go back to your vehicle.” He leaned closer to Isabel, and in a conspiratorial whisper said, “That rookie needs to find another line of work. He’s not cut out to be a policeman. Doesn’t have the temperament. Don’t judge the rest of us by his behavior.”
Field was trying to put her at ease. It wasn’t working. She was still trembling from head to foot.
“What is your name?”
“Grace Isabel MacKenna.” She thanked God she could remember. “Everyone calls me Isabel.”
“I watched the video, Isabel. You just went through a terrible ordeal, didn’t you? How are you holding up?”
He looked sympathetic and sounded sincere. “Who are you?” she asked. “I’m sorry. I forgot your name. I know you told me . . .”
“I’m Officer Field.” Frowning now he said, “I think you should see a doctor. You’re pale and you’re shaking. You could go into shock.”
She shook her head. “I’m all right. I don’t need a doctor.”
He didn’t press her. “Do you live around here?”
“No, I live in South Carolina. I’m staying at the Hamilton Hotel, and I wanted to go for a walk.”
Field couldn’t fathom it. “Do you know how far away you are from the hotel?” The whole situation was incomprehensible to him: a young woman going for a walk all alone in a strange city.
Not paying attention to her surroundings or the people she passed, a pretty girl like her . . . any number of terrible things could have happened to her. And yet, instead, she saved a man. “I know you’re scared, but you’re safe now.”
A man with an unlit cigar hanging out of his mouth put a protective hand on Isabel’s shoulder.
She looked at the crowd surrounding them and said, “I know I’m safe. These good people won’t let anyone hurt me.”
Every man and woman nodded. She could tell Field didn’t know what to think.
“Rain’s coming any minute now,” he said. “And you should sit down. Come with me, please.”
He latched on to her elbow and was trying to get her to his police car before the downpour started again. It was a long, arduous trek due to the fact that the volatile crowd kept pressing in on him. They were determined to make sure he treated Isabel with respect, and they kept yelling just that as he tugged on her elbow to keep her moving forward.
“I feel like I’m walking through a minefield,” he said. He spoke in a bare whisper, but she heard him all the same. The atmosphere was explosive, and she realized he was avoiding anything that would exacerbate the situation.
“I’ve been on the force seventeen years,” he said, “and I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Like what?”
“Such a large group of men and women, young and old, united so . . . forcefully . . . to protect a young lady. It really is remarkable.”
He might have been impressed but he was also nervous. Isabel could tell by the way he watched the crowd. He was on guard. Was he worried he would be the person to ignite the powder keg?
As they made their way through the people, she saw quite a few holding their phones up and continuing to take videos of what was going on. The woman who had asked for her phone number earlier leaned close and told her she would make sure to hang on to her video in case Isabel’s phone was taken. Isabel responded with appreciation. Another of her champions lifted the hood of her jacket over her head. She stopped to thank him also. Still another patted her as she walked past. Several called out words of caution.
“Don’t let them bully you,” a teenager shouted.
“Not a word without a lawyer. Don’t say one word.”
There were also shouts of encouragement. “You stay strong,” a woman called out.
“I’ll try,” she promised.
“Remember what you did today, girl. You saved a man’s life.”