Samuel handed the phone back to the policeman. He didn’t have to look at the people to read their mood. He put his hands up and said, “Everyone step back. Give us some room.”
No one moved.
“Hey, Detective Samuel,” a policeman called out. He lifted the large cloth that had been placed over the dead man. “Right between the eyes. Perfect shot.”
Isabel didn’t need to hear that. She bowed her head and tried not to gag. If she had any food in her stomach, she would have lost it by now. Thank God she hadn’t eaten all day.
“Let’s go,” Field said. When he took hold of her arm, she cried out in pain. He quickly let go.
A man in the growing crowd shouted, “You leave her alone.” Several others chorused their agreement.
“We aren’t going to let you hurt her.” A woman shouted that promise.
“I’m going to go ahead and take her in,” Field said. He didn’t suggest or ask this time.
A couple of minutes later Isabel was in the backseat of Field’s vehicle and on her way to the station. The air inside the car smelled of kielbasa, sauerkraut, and Old Spice aftershave. Another wave of nausea engulfed her. To calm her nerves, she stared out the window and concentrated on the passing landscape. They turned a corner and drove by a park that had also been renovated. There was a brand-new playground with swings and slides and a huge jungle gym. The thick grass had been freshly cut, and there were a few tall trees providing shade to benches on the edge of the property. Any other time she would have stopped to watch the children laughing and playing, but not today. Today she was sitting in a police car on her way to being interrogated about a shooting. The whole scene was almost too absurd to believe.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a long drive. But by the time she was helped out of the car and walked into the station with Field at her side, she felt like a criminal again. She kept her head down until she heard a deep voice calling her name. She looked up and inwardly groaned. Standing just a few feet away from her was Michael Buchanan.