Darby’s chin jerked high. “He’s helping the cops?”

Elliot nodded. “Yes? You know him?”

“Yes.” Darby bit her lip. She didn’t believe Eban was actively working against her, but he did like his rules and would definitely want to play by the book. One of the reasons he’d given her for not getting involved last summer had been the fact he’d lose his job if they were discovered. It was important to him. She liked that it was important to him, but what did it mean now?

Quentin would never share the details of the night they first met. He’d refrained from entering the truly incriminating evidence into the case notes and witness statements.

But what about Eban’s notes that he’d made during the interviews after her ordeal, notes he’d sworn he would never share with anyone? Did he still have them? Would he share them? Could they be subpoenaed? Would he throw her to the wolves, knowing it wasn’t the first time she had stabbed a man to death?

She did not regret what she’d done last summer. She’d kill that monster again to save herself, Quentin and Haley.

Her mind flashed to the image of Martin from earlier that morning, and bile rose in her throat. That crime had not been committed in the heat of the moment. It had been cold and calculated.

She thought about the short conversation with Eban on the phone that morning and his insistence that she didn’t talk to the cops without a lawyer. He’d sounded serious and a little bit desperate. Presumably, he believed a lawyer could help. She didn’t think Eban would do anything except try to uncover the truth, but what if she was the killer? How would she live with herself then?

“Everything we discuss is covered by attorney client privilege, correct?”

Elliot nodded. With his tie removed and rolled-up shirt sleeves, he looked more approachable now. Less big shot lawyer, more her peer. It was probably a deliberate ploy to get her to relax, to trust him, but she needed that illusion.

“Everything you say is strictly between us.”

“You might wish you never asked.” She met his gaze head on. He blinked, hard enough to tell her she’d unexpectedly shocked him. Already.

She took a deep breath, preparing to tear the scabs off old wounds she’d thought were finally starting to heal. She’d only told this in full a few times, and each time it had left her wrecked.

“I was sent out to Pulau Gunung Rebi, a volcano in Indonesia by my advisor to set up a GPS array to monitor seismic activity on the island.” It was easy to talk about the work. Science and data were her friends. Never left her emotionally gouged to the bone. “You’ve probably heard of Krakatoa, in Indonesia, which has been increasingly active in recent years, as you might have seen on the news. We wanted to check out other active volcanoes in the same chain in the hopes they might provide some sort of early warning system, among other things. Pulau Gunung Rebi actually has a fascinating history over the last hundred years. It was a former Japanese Prisoner of War camp in WWII and is considered cursed by the locals. Last summer it was uninhabited, except for me. At least it was supposed to be uninhabited…”