“I know,” the captain said. “I’m still hoping he’ll come back here to work.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Michael said.
The captain continued to chat with Michael for a few more minutes, asking about his family, and then, as he was opening the door, he said, “I know your brothers, Alec and Nick, are both FBI agents. What about you, Michael? What are your plans? Are you going to join them?”
Michael grinned. “The Buchanans are an FBI family. I’m thinking about it.”
“Oh, come on,” Isabel whispered. She all but fell into the chair. Now he was thinking about joining the FBI? He graduates from college at twenty, then becomes a lawyer, then a Navy SEAL, and now is thinking of being an FBI agent. What’s next? Astronaut?
And what was she doing with her life? Oh sure, she had a college degree. But did she have a plan, a goal? No. She had a few ideas, but no real direction. She was suddenly feeling quite stupid. Tears began to fill her eyes.
What was happening to her? She could be emotional at times, but this was over the top. Why did everything suddenly seem like an insurmountable problem? Why were Michael’s prospects for the future so upsetting to her? When she glanced up at him, he gave her such a sympathetic look she wanted to weep. And that made her even more angry.
Her lack of control had to be because of everything that had happened in the last few hours. She was emotionally exhausted. She just needed some time to think, to put everything into perspective.
Detectives Samuel and Rayborne walked into the interview room just as the captain was leaving. Instinctively, seeing Samuel, she sat up ramrod straight. Father Mahoney would be proud.
Staring at Isabel, Samuel said, “What were you doing walking around by yourself? The city can be dangerous. You should always be aware of your surroundings, Isabel. Isn’t that right, Rayborne?”
His partner agreed with a nod.
“Do you know what could have happened to you?” Samuel asked, and before she had a chance to answer, he continued. “She’s damned lucky. Isn’t she, Rayborne?”
Without a hint of expression, Rayborne agreed. “Damned lucky.”
Isabel wasn’t in the mood to argue with them. But lucky? Were they out of their ever-loving minds, or had they forgotten she killed a man? She was definitely not lucky.
Michael took the seat next to her, and for the next forty-five minutes she answered all of the detectives’ questions. They kept circling around to the same ones, though. Had the dead man or the victim spoken to her? Had she met either one of them before today? What was she doing in that area so far away from the hotel? And how did she learn to shoot a gun with such accuracy?
Isabel had been operating in a rather numb state since she’d killed that man, but now every muscle in her body ached and her nerves were raw. She was more than ready to leave.
Michael finally called a halt to the interrogation. “You’ve got our cell numbers, and you know how to find us,” he said. “If you need to talk to Isabel again, I want you to go through me. You don’t talk to her without me.”
Detective Samuel nodded. “Isabel,” he asked, “will you be spending the night at the Hamilton, or will you go on to Nathan’s Bay?”
“The Hamilton,” she quickly answered before Michael could tell him he was taking her to Nathan’s Bay.
“And you’re going directly there now?” Detective Rayborne asked in his characteristic deadpan manner.
“Yes,” Michael said.
“No,” Isabel said at the same time. “We have to make a stop first.”
“Why?” Michael asked.
Calmly, as though commenting on the weather, she answered, “I need to get this bullet out of my arm.”