She had no idea if there was evidence of the past sexual assault etched on her body, but she doubted it. She’d healed well according to the doctors she’d seen. Physically at least.

Would those other medical files be admissible as evidence?

The idea gnawed at her as she slipped on the too big slippers. She felt more like she was in a hospital than a police station.

“You’re all ready to go,” the nurse said softly, and then her eyes changed as she seemed to realize that wasn’t even remotely true. Her demeanor shifted abruptly, clearly remembering Darby was a suspect in a murder.

Darby gathered herself up, steeling her spine. The fact she wasn’t sure about what had happened last night didn’t make it easy to defend herself. Maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe there would always be an air of suspicion even if someone else came forward and admitted to the crime, which seemed more and more unlikely as the hours passed.

She raised her chin. “Thank you for your kindness.”

After all this was over, her dignity might be all she had left.

She waited for the officer to escort her back to the interview room. The chill seeped through the thin soles of her slippers and penetrated the flimsy clothes they’d given her to wear.

Elliot Byrne was waiting for her. He’d taken off his jacket and was in his shirt sleeves. Maybe she was the only one feeling the low temps, or maybe the feeling was her soul beginning to drift away again, the way it had when she’d been in that hut in Indonesia.

She’d gone to another place in her head to survive that nightmare, but—like an out-of-body experience—she remembered the detail of each assault. Each hurt inflicted. Each degradation.

She’d been so cold the whole time in that damned shack, no matter the tropical climate.

“The police want to question you again as soon as you feel up to it,” Elliot said quietly.

Darby blinked and let out a shuddery breath. She was so tired.

“I’ll be with you the entire time. In fact, I want you to promise you won’t ever talk to them without me being present.”

Her shoulders slumped. “You might be here for a long time.”

He touched her arm, and she was pleased she didn’t flinch. She had been making progress.

“Jesus. You’re freezing,” he exclaimed with concern. “Let me find you a sweatshirt to wear.”

She glanced at him in surprise. “Thanks.”

She sat on the chair with her arms crossed, teeth chattering. He wasn’t gone long, and another officer followed with a bowl of soup and a thick gray sweatshirt.

She slipped into the soft cotton, feeling swallowed up by the cozy material.

Elliot waited as the officer set the food on the table and then retreated. “You look about fifteen wearing that thing.” He gave a small smile.

“The curse of being short and not wearing any makeup.” Darby picked up the spoon and began eating. She hadn’t thought she was hungry, but as soon as she swallowed the first mouthful, she discovered she was ravenous. The chicken noodle soup warmed her from the inside out. By the time she was finished she had more energy and more fortitude. She pushed the bowl away, and the police officer immediately took the tray.