She wobbled as she stripped off the Tyvek suit before pulling on her parka and heading back outside. The temperature stole her breath. The fire truck was gone, and a small group of onlookers stood in a huddle on the far side of the road.

Signy made her way to the cruiser where the suspect sat in the back. She nodded to the officer and opened the back door.

“She have ID?” Signy asked the officer.

The redhead responded. “My name is Darby O’Roarke.” She spoke in a soft monotone.

Signy had heard the name before but didn’t know where. Maybe Darby O’Roarke was a repeat offender she’d yet to run across.

“You called it in?”

O’Roarke nodded.

“You stab the guy?”

Those green eyes of hers widened, and Signy was sure that pitiful look worked on all the guys, but she was immune. Signy waited for an answer.

Finally, the girl seemed to come back into herself. Had she been attacked? Was this a case of self-defense?

“No comment,” Darby O’Roarke mumbled dully.

Signy and the patrol guy shared a look. Those were not the first words out of an innocent mouth during questioning.

“You found him?” Signy pressed.

O’Roarke nodded.

“You’re saying you didn’t kill him?” Signy tried to keep her tone understanding rather than condemning.

The woman’s eyes hooked on Signy again and then traveled past her to the group of onlookers standing behind police tape.

“You all right, Darby?” one of the girls there shouted.

Darby O’Roarke flinched.

Signy eyed the group with more interest. “Friends of yours?”

O’Roarke nodded hesitantly. “And of Martin’s.”

Signy angled her body between the onlookers and her suspect. “You’d help both us and yourself a great deal if you tell me exactly what happened here last night, Darby.”

Those green eyes hid a myriad of unspoken secrets. She swallowed audibly. “I want to talk to my lawyer before I say anything more.”

Signy set her teeth. Then she shut the door with a firm bang and turned to her fellow officer. “Take her in. Get her booked.”

Signy headed over to the crowd and took out her notebook. “Who here knew Martin Carstairs?”

A collective gasp rose up and Signy grimaced at her slip to past tense.

“We all do.” A short woman hugged the arms of the two men standing on either side of her. “Is he… Is he dead?”

“I’m afraid so.” She needed to get them all interviewed separately which was not going to be easy with the windchill in the minus double digits. She eyed the group, many of whom had now started to weep. “You go to school together?”

The short brunette appeared to have elected herself spokesperson. “We’re all grad students at UAF.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jacqui.” The girl looked as if she might throw up. “Jacqui Paulson.”

“Is Darby O’Roarke also a grad student at UAF, Jacqui?” Signy asked.

The girl nodded. Her brows crinkled. “Why did you take Darby away in a police cruiser?”