Torgerson was clearly rattled by Elliot’s suggestion and Darby figured he’d done it on purpose.

The detective turned her anger on Darby. “You admit tampering with a crime scene.”

It felt as if a sharp rock was lodged in Darby’s throat and every swallow hurt. “I didn’t know it was a ‘crime scene’ when I washed up the dishes, otherwise I wouldn’t have touched a thing and I certainly wouldn’t have gone upstairs.” The tightness in her throat was getting more pronounced, and she was terrified a panic attack was incoming. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, deeply. She could feel Eban’s eyes on her and wanted so badly to see his face, to hear his reassuring voice. And maybe that was the reason he stayed away. He didn’t have any reassurance to give her. “I thought I was doing Martin a favor by tidying up his dishes.”

“What happened next?”

Darby felt a little calmer but hunched her shoulders against the memory. “I decided to go upstairs and see whether or not Martin was still in the house and thank him for the couch and then head to work.”

“So let me get this straight. You woke up, washed the dishes, including the two glasses on the table, and then decided to go snooping around Martin’s house?”

Darby nodded. It sounded a little odd now, but it had made sense at the time. “I didn’t want it to be awkward at work with him especially when I couldn’t remember what happened.” She frowned down at the table. “I figured it wouldn’t matter if he’d already left. If he was there, I’d thank him for letting me sleep on the couch and leave.”

“You found him dead?”

Darby nodded, barely able to breathe past the memory.

“Did you touch anything?”

Darby thought carefully. “The stair banister. The spare room door, Martin’s bedroom door. It was open, but I pushed it wider.”

“The bedroom door was open?”

“A little.”

“Could you see the body from the hallway?”

“No.” Darby cleared her throat. “I could see his feet, and I was worried when he didn’t move even though I was calling his name. So, I went inside.” She swallowed. She wished she hadn’t.

“Did you touch anything in the bedroom?”

“I didn’t.”

“Can you explain why there was blood on your shirt cuffs?”

Darby’s eyes bugged. She exchanged a look with Elliot. She started to shake her head and then said out loud for the recorder. “No.”

“You are sure you didn’t touch the body, to maybe make sure he was still alive?”

Darby flashed back to seeing Martin that morning and suppressed a shudder of guilt. She’d been scared and repulsed. Poor Martin. “No, I didn’t touch him.”

“You didn’t see if you could save him?”

Darby blinked back tears. “No. I should have but I didn’t.”

“Why not?” the detective pressed.

“I know what dead looks like.”

“How?”

She felt Elliot’s foot pressing down on hers. She ignored him. “I grew up in a remote cabin in the Alaskan wilderness. We hunted to survive.”