When they finished with Karbo, they returned to Isabel and Garcia, and motioned for Pike to join them. The male was Detective Braun. His partner was Detective DeLako.
Braun said, “Here’s where we are. We’re going to book this as an assault and false imprisonment to get the ball rolling. We’ll probably up it to a kidnap as the case develops. Okay?”
Isabel glanced at Pike, and made a shrug.
“Okay.”
DeLako said, “We’d like you to come in to give a more detailed statement. One of our officers can give you a ride.”
Isabel squirmed.
“Now?”
“Now is best. Everything’s fresh.”
“Can I come later? I can’t miss work.”
“Now is best. We’ll clear it with your boss.”
Isabel glanced at Pike again, and Pike nodded.
Isabel said, “Okay. I guess.”
DeLako turned to Pike.
“Four o’clock at Wilshire Station.”
Pike said, “Sure.”
Braun studied Pike for a moment, and held up Pike’s license.
“Joe damned Pike. I’m surprised those idiots are still breathing.”
He studied Pike’s license once more, and handed it back.
“You might want to lawyer up. Karbo says you attacked him for personal reasons. Says you’re her boyfriend.”
Isabel flushed.
“He isn’t my boyfriend. I work at the bank.”
Braun stared at Pike.
“Are you?”
“This is the first time I’ve seen Ms. Roland outside the bank.”
Isabel said, “That man is lying! Mr. Pike is a customer!”
Braun softened a smile for Isabel.
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Ms. Roland. Criminals lie about everything. Lemme arrange for your ride.”
Isabel looked queasy as they left.
“I hope they don’t believe him.”
“Just tell them what happened. You’ll be fine.”
Pike knew she didn’t believe it, and was feeling overwhelmed.
“This is so crazy. All I did was leave the bank. I came out, and they attacked me.”
A line appeared between her eyebrows, as if she was struggling to make sense of what had happened.
“He told me they know my secret. I’m like, what secret? I don’t have any secrets.”
“Karbo?”
“Isn’t that weird? What’s wrong with people?”
She suddenly looked at him.
“I wish you could come with me.”
Isabel Roland was afraid. Pike guessed her age at twenty-two or so, but she could have passed for sixteen. Now she had to deal with things she didn’t understand and people who frightened her. He took out a card, and wrote his cell.
“You’ll be fine. If you want to talk, call me.”
Isabel glanced at the card as if she didn’t know what to say, and suddenly clutched his arm.
“We’ve never been introduced. I’m Isabel Roland, but everyone calls me Izzy.”
Pike said, “Joe.”
She took out her phone, and tapped the screen.
“Now you have my number, too.”
A message arrived with her contact card.
DeLako called from behind them, saying Isabel’s ride was ready to go.
Isabel looked forlorn.
“All I wanted was a smoothie.”
Pike tried again to think of something assuring to say, but only managed a nod. He watched the patrol car take her away. The paramedics were gone, and the black-and-whites had left the scene. Karbo and Bender were gone. Their SUV would soon be towed. The street was busy and bright as if nothing had happened.
Pike felt a tingle kiss the base of his neck, as if someone he did not see was watching.
7.
Pike was finishing dinner that night when she called. Red bean burritos, cauliflower, and beets. Pike lived alone in a gated condo complex in Culver City, not far from his business. His phone rang at eight o’clock. Not five of, or five after, but eight on the hour.
“Hi, it’s Isabel. From today?”
“I remember.”
The Lakers were playing Portland. Pike muted the sound.
“I hope you don’t mind. You said I could call.”
“How’re you doing?”
“Better, now.”
She made a nervous giggle, somewhere between awkward and cheery.
“Janice gave me a tour. She showed me cells and where the detectives work and this man being fingerprinted. He was a thief.”
“Who’s Janice?”
“Detective DeLako. She told me to call her Janice. They were nice. Even Detective Braun.”
She giggled again, but Pike knew this was anxiety. During Pike’s time as an officer, he’d seen burglary victims sell their violated homes, assault victims crippled by PTSD, and fellow officers resign after a gunfight. Victims suffered long after perps went to jail.
“I meant with what happened. You doing okay?”
“I’m still kinda freaked.”
“Freaked is normal. Janice can put you in touch with victim support groups. People who’ll help you deal.”
“She told me.”
“Seeing someone is a good idea. Think about it.”
“I will.”
She hesitated, and when she spoke again her voice was low, as if she was ashamed.
“I was scared to come home. I live alone, and now being here feels creepy. I didn’t want to open the door.”
“You understand why?”
“I guess.”
“Give yourself time.”
“It’s