“Did you make a public appeal for any photographs or video footage from the event last night?”

The detective’s shoulders slumped. “No, but people have been posting things on social media all day.”

“Talk to your tech person to see if they can set up a dedicated server for all the information.” From experience, Eban knew the department could be deluged with massive amounts of data that might overwhelm the system. “Then put out a request online and also contact the media in time for tonight’s news broadcast. Let’s collect everything we can.”

He wanted a better idea about what had been going on last night and examine who had the opportunity to drug Darby. She had to have been given a sedative or hypnotized and a ceilidh seemed an unlikely place for the latter.

Torgerson puffed out her cheeks, clearly holding back what she really wanted to say. “I’ll do that, SSA Winters.”

“Call me Eban.” He sent her a friendly smile, but she wasn’t buying it.

“Signy.” She sounded impatient. “I’m going to pick up a snack on the way back to the precinct. Shall I grab you something? I’ll meet you back at the station house in half an hour.”

Eban wasn’t hungry but also didn’t know how long he’d be at the police station tonight. He also realized the detective was trying to get rid of him. She might have personal business to deal with. A cat to feed. A partner to hug. But it could also be something to do with the case and, until he had proven Darby’s innocence, or he was forced off the case, he wasn’t willing to let Torgerson out of his sight.

“I’m still a little turned around in the city. If it’s okay with you, I’ll follow your vehicle. I don’t mind waiting while you grab something to eat.”

She gave him such a pissed off look he almost felt sorry for her.

She stomped off and got in her SUV, and he slid behind the wheel of his rental. She pulled out of the Medical Examiner’s parking lot at speed and Eban knew she was mad. She slowed down on the highway, probably thinking about the impact that losing a Federal Agent in a car wreck might have on her career.

He wasn’t worried about these road conditions. He’d learned to drive in the Rockies in his stepfather’s Buick. This coming blizzard did concern him. He didn’t want Darby stuck in jail for an extended amount of time, and a storm would slow everything down. Better hope this hotshot lawyer was worth his exorbitant fee.

The detective didn’t make any detours on her way back to the department, obviously not wanting Eban to know where she’d originally planned to go.

Eban wasn’t trying to piss her off, they simply had different agendas, although hopefully, the same goals. That was to find the person who had murdered Martin Carstairs—while he hoped three ways until Sunday it wasn’t the woman he’d come to care for more than he’d cared for anyone in a very long time.