Grace Under Fire (Buchanan-Renard 14)

She thought that was a wonderful idea. “I’ll be safe there.”

“I’m going to make sure you’ll be safe.” He knew how arrogant he sounded, but he was telling her what he believed to be true. He would kill anyone who tried to hurt her.

Before they went upstairs to gather her things, they stopped at the front desk to check out. Michael made one call to his brother Alec and then tried to hurry Isabel along. She was still so rattled she would have forgotten her cell phone and charger if he hadn’t seen it on the bed and taken it. He carried her bag and held her hand as they left the hotel. Walking through the lobby, Isabel attempted to look self-assured and at ease, but on the inside she was fighting the urge to run. She furtively scanned in all directions in case the redheaded stranger was still there, lurking in the shadows.

Once they were back in the car and pulling away from the hotel, Isabel could breathe again. “If that man hadn’t looked so angry, I might have waited until he reached me and talked to him to find out what he wanted, but he was scowling as he rushed toward me in the lobby.” She stopped to shake her head as if to clear her thoughts. “If he was running to me. He could have just been in a hurry. I feel so foolish now. I overreacted, and just because I saw a man with red hair, I jumped to the conclusion that he was the guy on the corner watching me help Detective Walsh. And so what if he was?” She turned to Michael and admitted, “It was his hostile expression that freaked me out. Maybe because it triggered a memory.”

Michael held his patience and tried not to sound frustrated when he asked, “How come you didn’t mention this guy at the station when Samuel was questioning you?”

“I forgot all about him.”

He nodded. “You said he was on the street?”

“Yes, at the corner,” she explained. “I remember now. I was kneeling next to the detective, and I was trying to stop the bleeding. I looked up and saw him watching me. I remember him because he had red hair.” She added, “I needed help. I don’t know if I called out to him or not. I didn’t think about him after that because I was focused on Walsh.”

“You didn’t call out to anyone.”

“How do you know...”

“I watched the video.”

“Right,” she said. She looked out the window and stared at the passing lights, wondering if there was anything else she had forgotten. “I need to watch it, too,” she admitted finally. “Maybe I’ll remember something else. That man... He was there for an instant and then gone. Still, I should have remembered him.”

“Samuel needs to know, Isabel.”

She groaned. “Know what? That there was a man standing on the corner for a second? And maybe or maybe not the same man was in the lobby?”

“Yes.”

“I could call tomorrow and tell him. The man in the lobby is probably long gone by now. And it’s late,” she pointed out. “Although...”

It was the way she drew the word out that made Michael ask, “Although what?”

“I have an attorney,” she said, looking at him expectantly. “Don’t you think he should talk to Detective Samuel?”

“Okay, I’ll call him,” he said. “And Alec should have the video by now.”

“What video?” she asked.

“There are security cameras in the lobby. Hopefully the redhead’s face will be visible.”

“Wouldn’t it be great if we had a photo of his face?”

They pulled into the driveway a half hour later. The Buchanan house was dark except for a light shining from the kitchen window. They found Alec in front of an open refrigerator drinking milk out of a carton. His hair was sticking up every which way, and Isabel was certain Michael’s call had gotten him out of bed.

“The security recording is on my laptop,” Alec said. “Isabel, you looked like you were seeing a ghost.”

He pulled out a chair at the island for Isabel, then opened his laptop and touched the screen. Michael stood behind Isabel with one hand on her shoulder while they watched. The cameras were scanning the lobby, and she was disheartened because she couldn’t find the man anywhere. It was when she saw Michael with his arm around her that she spotted him.

“There,” she said, pointing to the screen. “He’s looking down. All you can see is the top of his head.”

“He certainly was in a hurry,” Alec commented.

Isabel didn’t want to think about this any longer. Everything from the past few days was overwhelming. She had to keep reminding herself that, when she was on that street, she hadn’t been given a choice. The man she killed would have killed her and Detective Walsh if she hadn’t been quicker. He chose death the second he raised his gun.

She was eager to get on a plane to Scotland and put the shooting behind her. Eventually Detective Samuel would find out why Walsh had come to Boston. He had told her that Walsh was a detective. The obvious conclusion was that he was working on a case, and whatever he had uncovered had gotten him shot. Isabel was certain, by the time she returned from Scotland, the investigation would be sorted out, and Detective Samuel would have all the answers.

“Where am I sleeping?” she asked Alec.