Allan’s eyes bugged.

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes as soon as I pick up Darby,” Eban said. “Do me a favor, see if the students from UAF gave statements yet. If they’re still there, pump them for any information regarding things they do with Darby. Ask if they remember anyone who might have ever paid her too much attention or anyone who seemed off.”

Allan nodded.

Eban climbed behind the wheel, grateful when the engine started the first time despite not having been plugged in. He needed to have Darby in his sights, under his protection, but he doubted she’d be too thrilled to spend all night in the precinct even if she wasn’t under arrest.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Eban is on his way.” Darby looked at the detective sitting in the seat opposite. “He said to meet him in the lobby.”

She was unbelievably relieved that he was finished at the vigil. After spending so many months longing for a relationship with the guy, she’d discovered she already hated to be parted. And it wasn’t simply because some bastard was killing people.

She missed Eban.

She wanted to see the way his dimples cut into his cheeks when he smiled. She wanted to observe the way his eyes took her in when they were unguarded—like he wanted to consume her. She wanted to be in his arms and finish what they started earlier.

And she needed to get over that.

She worked hard and traveled often. So did he. Not to mention they lived thousands of miles apart. Quantico was closer to London, England than Fairbanks, Alaska. She thrust the logistical issues out of her head. Their relationship was too new to worry about the details. Plus, they had a serial killer to find before they could even begin to decipher what normal might look like for them as a couple.

They might be a couple…

She wanted to squee but one look at the detective’s sharp gaze had her pushing any romantic notions out of her head. Now wasn’t the time to be grinning like an idiot. Darby put her boots back on and gathered the dirty cups and took them into the kitchen. Signy Torgerson slipped her laptop and notepad into her bag and stood.

Darby paused, staring down at the sink. “Do you think the killer staged the whisky and whisky glasses at Martin’s house?”

The detective frowned. “I don’t know. Possibly. If you were drugged and in bad shape it’s unlikely Martin would have given you more to drink.”

“I destroyed any evidence he or she might have left.”

Elliot bristled. “Unknowingly, and whatever evidence was on the glasses was something the killer planted and wanted found.”

Darby chewed on her bottom lip. “They might have screwed up though.”

“SSA Winters thinks the killer watched you from the woods for a while. Presumably they waited for Martin to go up to bed and fall asleep,” Signy told her.