“You questioned the neighbors yet?” he asked.

“Not yet. No one was in earlier,” Torgerson replied. “We’ll try again this evening.”

Eban nodded. That was reasonable. “How old are these tracks, do you suppose?”

The man in front of him stopped and turned. “Hard to tell exactly—I’m not a professional tracker.” He looked up at the sky. “But it snowed a couple of inches yesterday—stopped around seven o’clock last night. Definitely after that.”

The officer didn’t seem to be particularly bothered by the low temperatures. Eban needed to upgrade his thermal gear if he hoped to keep up.

That thought brought up a question he hadn’t wanted to contemplate before. How long could he stay? And how could he possibly leave Darby during such uncertainty? His job was important to him. Darby equally so.

“Can we get a distinct impression off any of the tracks?” Eban turned and looked at Torgerson.

Her lips were pale and pinched. “Evidence guy is on his way already. I’ll call again and ask him to come take a look at these first. It’s probably Martin Carstairs’s.”

“There’s a sheltered spot deeper in the trees that’s more protected and might provide clearer pattern definition,” the officer stated, sliding eagerly through tightly interlaced saplings.

The detective rolled her eyes behind the man’s back.

They walked along in their snowy caravan, Eban’s toes already numb. He clamped down on all the emotions that wanted to tear up his insides. Emotion had no place in this investigation. He needed to suppress all the worry and anxiety if he hoped to contribute to Darby’s legitimate release. After all, she had to live here when this was all over, and it was a tight-knit community.

The thought left a taste of intense dissatisfaction in his mouth.

Finally, they got to the spot the police officer had meant and Eban was able to get a better look. He crouched down. The size of the prints was larger than his—probably around a size twelve. Tread pattern was clear, and they should be able to match it to something in the database.

“How far did you follow these?” Eban’s exhale formed a thick mist, and his hands were frozen inside his pockets. It was the sort of cold he’d grown up with in Montana with an added blitz of killer windchill. He also recognized that this was not extreme for this part of the world at this time of year. He’d become soft since moving to Virginia where the slightest whiff of snow shut down the state.

“I didn’t go any farther than this.”

Eban stared thoughtfully. “Any chance of getting a K9 unit out here? See if we can track where this person went?”

Torgerson didn’t bother to hide her skepticism although the uniformed officer looked game.

“To what end?” she asked after a few moments.

“To what end?” Eban repeated.

“Yeah, to what end are we chasing random footprints through the snow?”

Eban rose to his feet. “We don’t know they’re random. Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious to find fresh prints leading away from the scene of a violent murder?”