“I checked my phone after turning it off last night.” Her expression was sleepy, eyes squinting but once again full of fear. “Elliot Byrne left a ton of messages. He wants to know where I am. Says the police want me to come in for questioning again. ASAP.”

Eban swore. “Call him back. Tell him we can meet him in an hour. Have him ask the detective to meet at his hotel if she’s agreeable.”

She nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go onto the deck and call the detective to ask her if there have been any developments. And then I’ll throw together some breakfast we can eat on the way into town.”

“Won’t you get into trouble?”

“No.” Eban resisted the desire to smile because Darby had a right to be concerned. “I don’t plan on lying to Torgerson and I know you’re innocent so whatever the problem is, you aren’t it.”

Relief blasted across her features. “Thank you. For everything.”

He clamped his hand around the wooded step to stop himself going up to her loft room and taking her in his arms to comfort her.

She wasn’t in the clear yet. He needed to keep her safety as his number one priority. Not get distracted by his own wants and desires. None of this was about him. Not yet. The idea it might be at some point in the future made him feel lighter than he had in months.

He threw two slices of bread in the toaster and headed outside to the enclosed deck that held a hot tub. He dialed Torgerson. If something else had happened last night, there was a good chance the detective hadn’t been home yet. He felt for the woman. He’d been in that situation on many occasions, the last time two nights ago.

“Torgerson.” Her voice was scratchy.

Had he woken her? He winced. “Eban Winters. I was wondering if there were any developments regarding the Carstairs case?”

A long pause on the other end told him Torgerson had information she wasn’t eager to share. He let the silence work for him.

Eventually, she spoke. “Possibly. There was another murder last night. Similar MO. We’re trying to track down Darby O’Roarke for questioning but she’s not at her apartment.”

Eban’s mind was racing so fast he almost missed her next words.

“You don’t happen to know where she is, do you?”

Eban could hear from her tone she’d figured out the connection between him and Darby’s kidnap case last summer. “The Crisis Negotiation Unit has a keen interest in Miss O’Roarke. I told you that.”

“You said the FBI.”

“Last time I checked CNU is part of the FBI.”

“Do you know where she is?” Torgerson wasn’t letting this go.

“I do. I also know she didn’t commit any murders last night.”

“You willing to sign an affidavit to that affect?”

“Absolutely.” In blood.

“Are you personally involved—”

“Do not test my patience, Detective,” he interrupted. “It must be increasingly obvious, even to you, that Darby O’Roarke is not the violent offender you presumed her to be. Someone is messing with her and with you, and that someone isn’t me.”