Signy picked up her coffee. Ignored the hot lawyer in the room and concentrated on Darby. “Let’s go over your weekly routine, shall we? See if we can figure out where this person might have inserted themselves into your life.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Eban stood in the center of a crowd of about a hundred people braving the approaching blizzard outside St Paul’s. He pulled a knit hat over his ears but left the hood of his jacket down so he could hear the conversations around him. He also left his coat unzipped so he could quickly access his Glock should he need it. He was hyperaware of this killer’s predilection for knives and tried to be vigilant about who was moving behind him, but the crowd made it difficult to watch people’s hands.

Eban shoved his own gloved hands deep into his pockets and hunched his shoulders tight up to his ears to conserve warmth.

It was so cold his exposed skin felt burned and his nose hairs had frozen together. Every time he inhaled, they tugged sharply on one another and made his eyes water. Ice crystals formed on his eyelashes.

Good times.

Ice lanterns lined the church steps up to the wide doors where crime scene tape fluttered on the breeze. A large, framed photograph of Adele Surrey was set up on an easel on one side of the pastor. A young woman steadied it from behind as there was the very real danger of the picture being taken by the wind.

Eban stared at Adele’s image. She looked like an ordinary middle-aged woman. Nice. Probably kind. And the killer had ruthlessly slain her because it fitted their plan—and that plan had been to frame Darby for the murders.

What about the break-in? How did that connect with the homicides? Did it?

And how would the UNSUB feel about Darby being free and not under arrest? Eban almost wished they could walk back this morning’s press conference where Elliot Byrne had declared she had an unshakable alibi. They’d assumed they were helping Darby get her life back on track in this town, but all they’d done was paint the target on her back a slightly bolder shade of red and possibly enrage a very dangerous individual.

He scanned the crowd. He did not like the latest twist to this case. Not at all. Especially having realized as soon as they’d started their treacherous drive from the cabin into town that, regardless of whether or not he wanted to get on a plane and head to a place where he could control security, they were stuck in Fairbanks until this storm cleared.

The knowledge made him grind his teeth with frustration. It also meant the FBI agents from Anchorage and beyond wouldn’t reach Fairbanks until this blizzard blew itself out.

They were on their own.

Both he and Darby were armed, and the local cops were hopefully beginning to understand the danger. Once the public realized they had a serial killer in their midst who knew how they or the killer would react.