She took his gloved hand and squeezed it. “I don’t know what’s going on, Eban. I don’t know what’s happening or who is responsible for any of this and it scares me.”

“I won’t leave you. We’re going to figure this out together. I promise.”

She closed her eyes, taking a moment to absorb the comfort of him being here. When she opened them, her gaze lifted to the night sky and her eyes widened in wonder. “Oh. Look.”

He glanced up, warily at first, but his mouth opened in astonishment. The sky was full of a green glow that danced across the heavens in an undulating wave.

“This is one of the best places on earth to see the Aurora Borealis.” Her voice grew stronger as it always did when she could talk about facts. “It’s caused by the electrons emitted from the sun interacting with gases in the Earth’s atmosphere.” She smiled in delight. “Knowing the science behind it doesn’t make it any less beautiful.”

“It is incredible,” he agreed.

“Yes.” She grinned and for a moment forgot the terrible events of the day, content to watch the spectacle of the “event.”

Despite the frigid windchills, Darby wanted to prolong this experience with Eban by her side.

He turned and watched the campus police get into their vehicle. They sat there with the engine running. They were clearly monitoring them, but also possibly filming them for media purposes.

“Time to go,” Eban said, deliberately blocking their view of her.

“Where to?” she asked as she climbed in.

“Somewhere no one is going to be looking for you.” He shut her door and walked around to get in.

Where would that be? It wasn’t a large city and her face was pretty conspicuous thanks to the local cops.

She wanted to go somewhere she could relax and maybe get a few hours’ sleep. She just needed to escape for a little while.

Chapter Thirteen

What did it mean that the police had let Darby O’Roarke go? She’d been gift-wrapped with a shiny yellow bow for the cops to arrest and put away. Still the idiots had managed to screw it up.

Unless…

Unless I somehow fucked up?

Nope. Everything had been perfect. I’d even solved the dilemma of “Darby’s” footprints leaving the house.

After I’d decided to teach the girl a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget, I’d opened the front door to leave and noticed my own footprints bright in the moonlight, trailing through the fresh snow down the drive from the road to the house. And, as my boots were exactly the same as Darby’s, I’d realized, belatedly, that leaving by the same route might raise questions from a keen-eyed investigator. Even if Darby woke and bolted from the scene, these “extra” footprints posed a mystery, and I didn’t want anyone questioning anything beyond the obvious. I didn’t want the police examining those details too closely.

Instead, I’d taken a pair of large snow boots from beside the backdoor—presumably belonging to the man I’d just stabbed—and schlepped through the forest before heading back to the road where I’d parked the car. I’d ditched the borrowed footwear in a dumpster downtown, close enough to the homeless shelter that some poor wretch likely had new boots by lunchtime.