“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.”
But I also took a life, Isabel thought, and the man I saved could be dying right this minute on his way to the hospital. That was such a grim thought she tried to push it aside.
Officer Field had asked her name and wanted to know why she was in the area, but he hadn’t asked her any other questions. She thought that was strange, and the way he kept glancing at her was a worry. He looked so perplexed, like he was trying to solve an intricate puzzle.
There was a man with a flashlight slowly scanning a brick wall to her left. Isabel slowed her pace and asked, “What is that man doing with the light?”
Field looked where she pointed and said, “He’s part of the crime scene team. He’s most likely looking for bullets.”
“Do they have to find every bullet that was fired?”
“That’s the goal.”
“What is that other man doing with the tape?”
“He’s measuring blood splatter.”
Field must have seen her blanch because he grabbed her elbow again. “Don’t pass out on me.”
“I won’t.”
Blood splatter. All she had wanted was to take a little walk, to stretch her legs, to get in touch with the city. She guessed now she was going to get in touch with the criminal justice system, too. Did they have private cells at the police station? Crazy thoughts raced through her head. She was really losing it and knew she needed to get a grip on her emotions.
Just as they reached the police car, a nondescript beige sedan pulled up next to them and two men got out.
Field perked up when he saw them. “Detectives.”
Isabel thought they both looked weary and perhaps even a little bored. Had they seen so much violence and death that they had become immune to it? Then she noticed the dark circles under their eyes and realized they were probably sleep-deprived from working hard, long hours. Her attitude toward them softened.
“You’re in good hands with Detective Samuel and Detective Rayborne,” Field told her. “Samuel has been on the job awhile now, so he’ll probably take the lead.”
Detective Rayborne was surveying the scene and shaking his head. She assumed he was much older than he looked. He was wearing a suit now, but in casual clothes he could easily pass for a man in his early twenties. She couldn’t discern what he was thinking because he had a poker face. He wasn’t giving anything away. He reminded her of a robot, and she wondered what it would take to get him to react or show some emotion.
Detective Samuel was more interesting to her. He was tall and thin, and his extremely stiff posture reminded her of a priest who had taught theology when she was in high school. No student ever slumped around Father Mahoney or she’d get a prod between her shoulder blades with the ruler he always carried. Even though he was a strict disciplinarian, the priest, she remembered, had a nice smile, and so did Detective Samuel. He actually managed a quick smile when one of the policemen said something to him. Then he looked at her and his expression changed.
Guessing what he was thinking, Field called out, “It’s not her blood, Detective Samuel.” He waited until both detectives were close enough and quickly made the introductions.
The policeman who had held the umbrella over her stepped forward and handed his phone to Samuel. “You’re going to want to see this.”