She rubbed her forehead. What had happened last night? Her mouth was so dry, and she had a headache. Why couldn’t she remember anything? Had she blacked out? Had Martin attacked her, and she’d defended herself? And then she’d, what…? Tucked herself under a blanket on the couch and gone to sleep?

That didn’t fly.

Darby might have been traumatized in Indonesia, but she’d been doing okay back on home ground. Her therapist had been very happy with her progress.

Ha. He’d be less impressed at their next session.

Elliot came back into the interview room. “I have a local doctor on the way and a SANE-A certified nurse. Can I get you a coffee?”

She’d drunk enough coffee for her stomach to rebel at the idea. “Do you think they have any herbal tea anywhere around here?”

“I’ll ask. When was the last time you ate?” Elliot frowned at her.

“I’m not hungry.” She couldn’t eat anything right now. Elliot disappeared to ask for her tea, and Darby once again sat alone in this awful, institutionalized room.

Was this going to be her future? Her life? No more exploring remote regions of the world. No more trying to fathom the secrets of the earth’s crust. Just plain walls and people treating her with contempt that would slowly shift to indifference as the years passed.

A shudder moved through her. She didn’t know what had happened after the dance, but she did know she hadn’t disliked Martin. She’d even once contemplated having sex with him simply to get it over with. The fact she’d never voluntarily had sex with anyone felt like a sword over her head.

That image had her eyes coming wide open as the vision of Martin, dead on the bed, flashed through her brain. Her stomach cramped in reaction, and she felt revolted down to her core.

She shuddered. She would never have inflicted that sort of violence on an innocent person.

You shot at a helicopter full of people on their way to rescue you…

She hugged herself. She’d thought they were the terrorists coming back to hurt her again. It wasn’t the same thing.

Deep down Darby knew if she had murdered Martin, it had been under extreme duress, and she’d have been defending herself. It was doubtful the law—or Martin’s family and friends—would view it in the same way. She just wished she could remember what happened.

Chapter Five

Eban followed the tall patrol officer, their boots crunching softly through the dry snow.

He was careful to keep to the exact same path as the man to avoid destroying the footprints off to his left where someone had, in the not-too-distant past, taken this route away from Carstairs’s residence.

As they moved beyond the outbuildings, the neighboring houses were visible nestled into the woods on both sides of the property. Far enough away to give a sense of isolation, but close enough they might have witnessed something last night.