He hoped to hell that didn’t happen.

He gave the uniformed officer a nod as he strode by, heading over to the detective who stood looking impatient on the edge of the driveway. She wore a heavy navy parka and a gray woolen hat. The snow made a crunching sound beneath his boots as he walked. It was way colder than he was used to since moving to DC.

He paused and eyed the driveway. “Did you document all the tracks in and out of the scene?”

The detective paused. “By the time I arrived, a lot of the scene had been trampled by first responders. After that I didn’t think it was necessary.”

Eban raised his brow in question. Someone’s life had been taken and Darby’s liberty was at risk, but the police department hadn’t pulled out all the stops?

“It might be appropriate to document all the impressions. Can you get the details of everyone who attended the scene earlier and what they wore on their feet?”

Tracks were everywhere, but there couldn’t be that many people and the fire department wore regulation footwear.

The detective’s exhale formed an impatient cloud. “You think it’s necessary?”

This was a murder scene.

“I do.” Every single piece of forensic evidence might be critical in helping Darby, but he didn’t tell Torgerson that.

“It’ll take time,” she said reluctantly. “I’ll call in the request.”

She was an attractive woman although her features were set into stern lines that told him exactly what she thought of him poking his nose into her case. She believed they had their culprit locked up and didn’t need to exhaustively gather every piece of physical evidence.

Eban didn’t tell her he was here to prove her wrong.

This investigation would be a massive drain on police resources, but that wasn’t a reason to cut corners. Labs could not examine every piece of evidence from every single crime scene but at least if the information was collected properly then it could be revisited in the future.

He waited while she called the evidence team and asked them to come back out. Yellow crime scene tape was strung along the road around the property. The house was set back twenty yards off the main road. No neighbors visible from the front, but he’d spotted a driveway to the south and saw smoke rising, presumably from a chimney, above the trees to the north.

The main structure was an ugly-looking affair with sagging steps adding to the general air of neglect. A large toolshed and carport garage sat off to the right of the house and, through the lean-to, Eban spotted about a half-acre of land that had been cleared.

“Did anyone walk the perimeter of the property looking for other footprints?”

The detective’s expression turned pissed and without a word she stomped back to the patrol officer who sat behind the wheel of his car and ducked down to the window, presumably to ask the same question.

She should know this. She should know every detail of this investigation but instead she’d been at the department, attempting to “crack” the only suspect they had.