“When are you going?”
“I’m spending a week in Boston, then Kate and I leave next Monday. But my plans could change because of the shooting. The detectives might keep me here.” The fear of being detained by the police resurfaced, and she quickly shook it off. “But I’ll go soon,” she insisted. “I have land there.”
“Where?”
“In the Highlands.”
“Where exactly in the Highlands?”
“I don’t know.”
She was about to explain that, yes, she knew where Glen MacKenna was, but she couldn’t give him an exact location unless she had a map in front of her. The look of disbelief on his face changed her mind. He seemed so astounded that she could be that clueless, she decided to have a little fun.
“You don’t know where your land is?” he asked.
She had to bite her lower lip to keep from laughing. “That’s right. I don’t know.”
They had arrived at the station. Michael parked and walked around the car to open her door. He took her hand to help her out and didn’t seem inclined to let go.
“So you’re just going to wander around until you find it?”
With a shrug and a smile, she said, “That’s the plan.”
Samuel met them at the top of the steps and led them into yet another interview room. Same color, same depressing atmosphere.
She straightened her back and sat down. Folding her hands in her lap to create the impression that she was completely relaxed, she asked, “Detective Samuel? The man that I helped. Do you know who he is?”
“Yes,” he answered. “His name is Craig Walsh. He’s a detective out of Miami. He has an impressive record.”
“What was he doing in Boston?” Michael asked the question.
“We don’t have that information yet. We’re working on it.”
Michael nodded. He could tell that Samuel was being evasive, but he didn’t push him. He could get all the information they had from his brother Nick or Alec, who were both FBI agents, or from Dylan, who knew just about every detective in Boston.
Isabel wanted to get this behind her. “What questions do you have for me today, Detective?”
He cleared his throat. “I thought we could watch the video and go over the sequence of events again. I’m hoping you’ll remember something more.”
“I’ll be happy to go over the sequence of events, but I’m not ready to look at the video.”
“You still haven’t watched it?” Samuel asked. His surprise was evident. “I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve watched it. Why haven’t you?”
“I don’t want to.”
“I think you should,” Samuel said. “Seeing it might trigger something.”
Isabel looked at Michael, who said, “She’ll watch it when she’s ready.”
Samuel agreed reluctantly. “All right. Let’s get started.”
No matter what, Isabel was going to remain patient, she told herself, and she would go over the event as many times as Samuel wanted. Cool and calm. That was the objective.
Michael pulled out one of the metal chairs and sat down next to her, draping one arm across the back of her chair.
Isabel took a second to settle her nerves and then proceeded to describe in detail what had happened from the time she stepped outside of the hotel to go for a walk until the moment the police showed up. Samuel took notes, and as soon as she finished, he began asking the same tired old questions again.
“I know we’ve been at it awhile, but would you mind going over it one more time?” he asked.
Would he mind if she started screaming? Probably, she thought.
“I’ll be happy to,” she lied, and once again she went through what Samuel was now calling “the event.” She thought that was an odd name for what had happened, but then Michael called it her “bad experience,” which she thought was odd, too. She had her own special name for what happened.
Nightmare. A frickin’ nightmare.
“Isabel?” Michael said. “Focus on the task at hand. Samuel asked you a question.”
She had zoned out. “I’m sorry. What were you wanting to know?”
More questions followed. They were a bit different from the ones asked several times yesterday.
Samuel was more interested in knowing what the injured detective had said to her. She thought she had gone over it yesterday. Maybe he forgot.
Samuel studied his notes for a few seconds, then said, “Now, Isabel, when Detective Walsh was reaching for you, he was whispering something, wasn’t he?”