Again, the long silence and if she expected him to fill it, she was a fool.

Finally, she exhaled a tired breath. “Fine. I’m leaving the Medical Examiner’s office right now. Meet me at the precinct as soon as you can and bring the O’Roarke girl with you.”

The O’Roarke girl?

“Let’s do it at Elliot Byrne’s downtown hotel so Miss O’Roarke doesn’t have to run the gauntlet of reporters the way she did yesterday.” He let the censure stay in his voice. Someone had tipped off the press regarding Darby’s release yesterday and he’d bet it was this detective.

“I don’t have time to make house calls—”

“I want to help solve this thing, Signy, before anyone else gets hurt.” And before Darby was crucified for crimes she hadn’t committed. “I am on your side and every resource the FBI has at its disposal is available to you on this case, but I need some level of cooperation from you.”

“Fine.” The detective sounded pissed. “Don’t be late and don’t forget to bring your girlfriend.”

She hung up before he could correct her and yet what was the point in denying something he’d be thrilled about?

How about the fact Darby got to make a choice about it too?

How about the fact his professional reputation would suffer should the press get wind of a romantic connection between him and a former kidnapping victim?

More important right now was this new development. Who’d been murdered? Who was the killer? Why were they killing? Worrying about his love life when these more serious issues were raging made him feel like an adolescent. The mechanics of criminal investigations were easy compared to untangling his emotions regarding Darby. He’d been conflicted since the moment she’d thrown herself into his arms on that volcanic island seven months ago and he was still conflicted today.

He went inside and started more toast, buttering the other slices while he called and updated Quentin on this new development. Darby was in the bathroom. While terrible for the victim, Quentin figured this new murder was good news for Darby as she had a rock-solid alibi. Him.

Eban hung up, filled travel mugs with coffee and placed the toast and marmalade on a plate as she came out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, her hair wet from a shower.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Elliot said someone else was murdered.” Freckles were stark against her pale skin.

He nodded and pulled up the news on his phone while he bit into his toast. Turned the screen toward Darby. “Know her?”

Her eyes narrowed then widened and he saw her start to sway. He put the toast and phone down, stepped forward and gathered her in his arms as she crumpled.

Fuck.

He laid her on the couch, but she immediately swung her legs around and went to stand.

“Sit.” He ordered. Then more gently. “I take it you do know her?”

Darby nodded. “I attend a weekly group therapy session at a church hall in town. She works there.”