“Oh my god.” Signy shook her head and walked away. “Men.”

“What?” Eban asked, striding after her.

“Women don’t want that self-sacrificing garbage. We do enough of that shit ourselves. We want someone to stick up for us. To fight for us.”

“I’d die for her.”

Signy looked at him then and read the truth in his eyes. “Make sure you tell her that then. Make sure she knows how you feel about her before she runs away with Elliot fucking Byrne who is loaded and insanely hot. I mean, not that you aren’t hot, but…”

His smile turned into a smirk.

Her cheeks burned. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

“I’ll bear that in mind, Detective.”

She punched him in the arm and then spotted another lawyer who she recognized coming in the front door.

“Gleeson’s new attorney is here. Want to take the lead this time?”

“Nah. Let’s take it in turns. You start. Push the evidence. Tell him about Corinne this time. Tell him she’s alive and was drugged with the same thing Darby was drugged with on Tuesday night. Then push the Darby button hard.”

“You still think he’s obsessed with her.”

“I do.”

Signy watched Eban staring at the woman in question. “Why?”

He leaned his head to one side, as if considering his answer. “Could be the brilliant intellect or the flaming red hair. Or those eyes that have seen the worst humanity has to offer and yet still have the ability to see good in men.”

Signy scratched behind her ear. “If you don’t tell her those sentiments yourself, you are a damn fool. I’ve never had a man think, let alone say that sort of stuff about me. I might cry.”

Eban smiled. “I’ll tell her, as soon as we wrap up this case.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Gleeson rolled his shoulders as if preparing for battle then settled into a tense slouch.

What was going through the guy’s head, Eban wondered? Was he a psychopath pissed that he’d been caught? Was he driven by some strong urge to fulfill some known-only-to-him mission? Or was he, like Darby, wrongly accused?

Eban wasn’t sure yet. He once again mirrored the way Gleeson crossed his arms and legs.

“I hope you got a little rest,” Signy said softy.

Gleeson’s lips pinched. “A little. Not much.”

Signy pulled out a manufacturer’s photograph of the snow boots someone had worn as they had stood in the woods and watched Martin Carstairs’s front room and, again, as someone had slaughtered Adele Surrey. The same style Darby owned.

“You recognize these?”

Gleeson shook his head, looking bored.

“You wear a size seven boot, correct?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Seven-and-a-half. Depends on the brand.”

Which was close in size to what Darby wore. The circumstantial evidence was piling up against the guy. Eban wished they’d gotten the voice comparison back already, but Mike Tanner was out of the office and the other people in that lab did not consider Eban’s case a priority. If only Corinne could tell them what happened, they could wrap this up for good.