you be tied to the scene?”
“Maybe. Isabel for sure.”
Isabel heard, and turned.
“Why me?”
“They took something from your home. Looked like suitcases and bags. That’s how I found you. I followed them.”
Isabel returned from the bar.
“What did they take?”
“I don’t know. It’s in their car.”
Cole was staring. He touched Pike’s shoulder.
“Look at me.”
Pike looked.
Cole leaned closer, and touched his own cheek.
“Get your face. Blood.”
Pike checked the backs of his hands and his forearms. Specks. Blood splatter from the gunfight.
Pike turned to Isabel.
“We have a lot to do. Would you like to wash up first, or eat?”
“I hope you don’t think they found money. If there was money in my house, I would know, and there isn’t. I’ve lived there since I was born. I don’t know what they’re talking about.”
Cole glanced from Isabel to Pike.
“What money are we talking about?”
“They think she has nineteen million dollars. They didn’t come for payback. They said her mother took it.”
Cole smiled, like maybe they were pulling his leg.
“No way.”
Isabel rolled her eyes.
“They have my mother confused with someone else. I’m telling you. This is so stupid.”
Pike wanted to touch her, but didn’t. He struggled to imagine a word of comfort, but no ready word appeared.
He said, “Gotta be tough.”
Isabel rolled her eyes.
Cole walked back to the kitchen, and returned with a stapled sheaf of pages.
“I thought you might want to see this.”
He offered the pages, but Isabel didn’t take them.
“Your mom helped a lot of people. She didn’t have to, but she did. It took a lot of guts.”
Isabel stepped back.
“I know you mean well, but this person wasn’t my mother.”
“You don’t have to read it, up to you, but I found her high school alumni association online, too. And her yearbook picture. It’s all in here.”
Isabel glowered at Pike, anxious and irritated.
“I’ve seen the picture. Yes, there’s a resemblance, but what’s the word? There’s a word when two people look alike. Not a clone.”
Cole kept going. His voice was soothing, and his eyes were kind. Pike was glad Cole was here. Cole always knew what to say.
“I found your dad’s picture, too. Wasn’t looking for it, but there it was.”
“Doppelganger! That’s it. A person who looks so much like you they could be your twin, but isn’t. Yes, she kinda looks like my mom, maybe, if you reach for it, but that’s all it is. Two people who look alike. A coincidence.”
Cole turned to a particular page, and held out the sheet to show her.
“And this handsome young dude is your dad. They were classmates.”
Isabel stared at her father’s photograph.
Cole said it again.
“They were classmates. Same school. Back in Texas. A long time ago.”
Isabel stood absolutely still. She stared at her father’s old photograph. Pike watched her eyes, and knew she was seeing more than the image on the page.
Cole folded the pages together, and set the pages on the table.
“This sucks. I know it sucks. I’m sorry.”
Isabel swayed. She stared into space, where the pages had been.
Pike picked up the pages.
“C’mon. The shirt’s wet. Let’s find something dry.”
“I don’t have clothes.”
“We’ll find something. C’mon.”
She looked down at herself, and saw the stains on his sweatshirt.
“Is this blood?”
Pike touched her arm.
“You can shower. Get clean. I’ll show you.”
He guided her toward the stairs.
38.
The upper floor held four immaculate bedrooms, each with an en suite bath. Pike showed Isabel to the master. It was the largest. The bathroom was stocked with toiletries and towels, and the closets contained new, unused robes, beach clothes, sandals, and swimsuits. Everything a drop-in guest might need.
Pike said, “Here. Robes. Shirts and shorts. Things. Use whatever you like.”
Isabel stared at the closet like a zombie.
“I don’t have their money.”
“I know.”
“My parents worked. You’ve seen our house.”
She turned from the closet as if she were numb.
“They said they’d kill me. If I don’t give them the money, they’ll kill me, and I don’t know what they’re talking about.”
Pike set the articles about her mother onto the bed. Isabel had been kidnapped twice, threatened by people she didn’t know about things she didn’t believe, and felt as if her fate rested with others. It was the same way with young troops in a battle space. She needed to feel as if she had some say in the outcome.
Pike said, “Do you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you. What kind of question is that?”
“I need your help.”
“I don’t know what they’re talking about.”
“You were with them. They talked. You heard. Something you know might help.”
“Like what?”
“Names, locations, intentions. Like that.”
“I didn’t hear