“Wow.” The woman’s brows hiked. “That’s the suspect in this morning’s homicide case, right? You move fast. Detective Torgerson is interviewing her right now. We weren’t expecting the Feds to become involved.”

He clenched his jaw as she buzzed him in. The idea that Darby was considered “the suspect” struck him hard even though he’d expected it.

“If you want to wait by the detective’s desk—”

“I’d rather talk to Detective Torgerson immediately.”

The receptionist looked taken aback by his tone. He softened his approach, damping down the inner tension that had him snapping at strangers.

“If that’s no trouble.” He smiled as he spoke. Forcing a change in his expression automatically changed his tone and how the woman perceived him. “I missed your name?”

“Shayla Snow.” She relaxed and smiled back. From her dark hair and features, he presumed she was a Native Alaskan. “Follow me. I’ll see what I can do, although Detective Torgerson hates being disturbed during an interview. She can be quite prickly.”

Good to know. “Sorry for putting you in the line of fire, Shayla. Feel free to place the blame firmly on my shoulders where it belongs.”

The woman relaxed further. He followed her through the bullpen of desks and cubicles, aware of the glances sent to him by the officers there. They’d want to know why a Fed was interested in what they probably assumed was a routine homicide investigation. Darby was anything but routine, and his feelings for her were complicated.

Shayla led him down a corridor and opened the door into an interview room. “Wait here while I fetch the detective. You can observe until she’s ready if you wish.”

Shayla smiled and left before he could argue.

He turned around. Through a one-way window, he spotted the woman who had haunted his dreams for the last seven months. Ever since he’d pulled her off that lump of volcanic rock in the Banda Sea, almost feral after the abuse she’d suffered. She’d occupied his thoughts each and every day. Consumed his emotions. Made him wonder what his life would be like if things were different.

Her face was pale. Green eyes huge and shadowed. Her vivid hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail that emphasized her bone structure. She clearly wasn’t eating enough. She wore a baggy blue t-shirt that hung off her shoulders and black leggings that were bunched up at the ankles. She looked deceptively fragile and weak, tired and beaten.

Darby O’Roarke was one of the strongest people he knew.

He went over and pressed the button so he could listen in to the interview. See if he could ascertain any facts about the investigation the detective might not voluntarily share with him later. He watched another officer open the door and take a message from Shayla. The detective gave a barely perceptible shake of her head when the officer looked at her and he closed the door.

Torgerson clearly didn’t want to be interrupted. From her eager expression, the detective thought she was close to a breakthrough. Had Darby already told her something?