Cold as Ice, page 17
Darby opened her mouth in shocked surprise. “Nothing. The whole process relies on the group being a safe space to talk about individual experiences. People trust one another not to share those confidences. That’s an integral part of the process, otherwise no one would ever say a word.”
Darby hadn’t told her entire story yet. After this experience she doubted she ever would.
“Someone in the group might be a witness.” The detective sounded reasonable, but she had yesterday too, before accusing Darby of cold-blooded murder.
Darby took a sip of water. “Talk to Dr. Kim Gleeson.” He should know the law regarding this matter.
“Your therapist?”
Darby nodded. She didn’t want to hinder the investigation but neither did she want the cops re-traumatizing victims.
“Who knew you attended the group therapy sessions?”
Darby frowned. “The other attendees. The people who rented the church hall to Dr. Gleeson. Gleeson’s assistant. His grad students.” Darby scratched the skin above her thumb. “I might have mentioned it at school a few times without giving details. How did Adele die?”
The news hadn’t gone into specifics.
The detective’s nostrils flared. “Painfully.”
Saliva flooded Darby’s mouth. “She was a nice person. Kind. Why do you think she was murdered?”
The detective’s eyes narrowed. Darby would swear the woman still considered her a suspect despite her having an unshakable alibi. It didn’t get much better than being chaperoned by a Federal Agent.
The detective didn’t answer. Instead, she showed a picture of a black glove. “We found this at the church.”
Darby pulled the printout closer. “Is that mine?”
The detective tilted her head. “You tell me.”
Darby’s heart raced. “It looks like mine but could be the same make. I haven’t seen either of my gloves since the ceilidh.” Which felt like a hundred years ago now. “I assumed they were in my truck.”
The detective showed her another photograph. A footprint in the snow.
Darby raised her brow in question then looked at Elliot for guidance.
“Do you recognize this tread pattern?” Torgerson asked.
“Er…no.”
“What about your own boots?”
Darby shifted so she could rest her boot on her knee to see the underside. She and Elliot both stared from her rubber sole back to the image.
“Nothing alike,” Elliot stated firmly.
“Not those boots. The ones we have in evidence.”
Darby stared at the image again and frowned. “You’re saying these prints are from my other snow boots?” A shiver ran down her spine. “Where did you find them?”
The detective placed another image on the table, the same tread pattern but this time in blood.
Darby recoiled.
“Where was this footprint found?” Elliot asked.
“St. Paul’s. And,” the detective touched the first image of the footprint in the snow. “This one was discovered in the woods outside Martin Carstairs’s neighbor’s home. They match the tread pattern on your snow boots that we have in evidence.”
Facts kept turning over inside her head. Facts that didn’t make sense. “Are you saying the killer wore the exact same boots as me?” Darby’s voice was rising in agitation. “The same size and everything?”
“I haven’t heard back on the size from the lab yet, but the same brand, yes.”
Darby stared at the image. “They are pretty common winter boots.”
Was this a coincidence? Or was the killer actively working to frame her? How would they know what boots she wore? Was it someone from UAF? Someone she worked with? A friend?
Darby searched the detective’s face. “You know I wasn’t at the church last night and you had my snow boots locked up. You know that I didn’t do this but you’re still treating me like the villain of this story.”
The detective stared at her without blinking, unwilling to concede even that much. “I don’t know anything for sure. Write out your statement and sign it and you’re free to go.”
Darby let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
The woman stood to leave.
“Wait,” Darby said. “You have to call my advisor at the Institute. Tell him I wasn’t responsible for Martin’s death.”
The detective’s stern expression suggested she wasn’t willing to do even that much.
Darby’s voice firmed. “He and the head of department are deciding whether or not they throw me out of the Ph.D. program this morning. This is all I’ve ever wanted to do with my life.” She thought about the events of last summer and how she hadn’t given up despite everything. “I have invested too much time and effort into this to be thrown out because of these lies.” Darby’s voice vibrated with emotion. She had endured too much to let some shadowy figure take it all away. She would not be another of their victims.
“I suggest you make that call, Detective.” Elliot’s eyes told Darby he was sorry this was happening to her. She needed that. Needed someone not to view her as a killer.
Elliot continued. “I plan to make a few calls of my own in the next few minutes and the police chief will not like the negative publicity this incident could generate if you handle it improperly.”
The detective relented. “I’ll call him and say we have no evidence—”
“You better do better than that, Signy.” Elliot’s voice firmed and the detective looked startled at the use of her first name. “We all know who’ll get the blame if this thing blows up in the department’s face, and we all know I give good sound bites.”
The detective paused with her hand on the door handle. Shot him a glare. “Fine.”
The door slammed behind her.
“Boy, she really hates me.” Darby attempted a laugh because the alternative was breaking down in tears and she refused to give anyone here the satisfaction.
Elliot gave her a look. “Detective Torgerson and I have crossed swords before. Last time I made her look bad in court.” He pressed his lips together. “She hasn’t forgiven me yet, but it was nothing personal.”
Darby grunted. “Does she know that?”
He shrugged. “Her partner got romantically involved with a witness and hid the fact from her. She found out in court at the same time as the jury.”
Ouch. “No wonder she hates my guts.”
“She wants the case solved. She’s a good cop,” he insisted.
Darby flashed him a look. “How about catching the actual killer then?”
Elliot grinned. “That would be ideal for everyone.” He eyed her footwear. “Nice boots by the way.”
Darby looked down at the pompoms dangling off the laces. “I needed something to cheer me up.”
“I think, after everything you’ve been through, a pair of cute winter boots is the very least you deserve.”
Her eyes shot to his. She caught a hint of pity, which she hated, but also empathy.
“I’m going to step out and call a friend of mine who works at UAF. I’ll make sure their legal department knows how bad it will look for them if they attempt to throw you out of the program.”
“Don’t forget I have to work with these people afterwards,” Darby warned.
“That reminds me, we also need to release a statement to the press letting them know you are a victim in this too.”
Darby rubbed her hand over her brow. “I hate being constantly portrayed as a victim.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry. But if you want to live in a small city like this where people are likely to recognize you in the street, I think it would be wise to make as big and public a denial as possible. Are you willing to talk on camera?”
She winced. “Only if I can talk about volcanoes.”
He chuckled. “I don’t think that would quite work in your favor.” He grabbed his suit jacket off the back of his chair. “I’ll do the talking, but I want you by my side clearly free from police custody. You write out your statement about where you were after you left here yesterday while I make that call to UAF’s legal team. Mention your buddy, SSA Winters, as often as possible.” He raised one brow. “Funny how you didn’t mention you were friends when we spoke yesterday.”
Darby’s smile wobbled. “When I called him yesterday morning, he told me to wait for a lawyer. Once he arrived, I didn’t know for sure whether or not he might believe I was guilty.” Her voice was small as she toyed with the pen on the table.
“You need to have a little more faith in the people who care about you.” Something flickered in Elliot’s eyes. “Although people can change.” He winked at her. “So maybe you did exactly the right thing.” He stood. “I’m going to make those phone calls. Remember, don’t talk to anyone except me or your Federal Agent friend. I’ll be back in half an hour and after that we’ll give a small press conference. Then, we can both get out of here.” He checked his watch. “And I might be able to catch a flight home assuming the weather doesn’t deteriorate the way they’re predicting.”
“Thank you, Elliot.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” He paused at the doorway. “Thank me when the university comes groveling at your feet apologizing for their lack of support.”
Darby nodded and exhaled massively as he left the room. She looked at the mirrored window and wondered if Eban was there or busy somewhere else. Then she looked at the sheets of blank paper on the desk in front of her. The sooner she wrote a statement about their movements last night the sooner she’d be out of here. She might not be looking forward to facing the press, but Elliot was right, she couldn’t hide from this if she hoped to live in this town.
The idea made her nauseous, but she needed a public statement rejecting the suggestion she was a killer. If that meant she had to been labeled as a victim then so be it. She could hate something and live with it. She did it every damn day.
Chapter Eighteen
Eban had signed a sworn statement as to the fact he’d accompanied Darby at all times after she left the police department yesterday except for those few minutes when he’d walked around the cabin. He knew she hadn’t headed into town for a quick stabbing session while he was out as he’d had the car keys in his possession.
So, she hadn’t had time.
Not that she’d have had the inclination.
Zero motive. Zero means. Zero reasons for the cops to be looking at her.
And while it was terrible another person had been murdered, he was glad he was able to unequivocally clear Darby’s name for that crime at least.
He’d spent most of the time Darby was being interviewed entering information from both murders into ViCAP, the FBI’s Violent Criminal Apprehension Program, to see if there were any similar incidences being reported across the country.
This killer showed a level of sophistication that suggested he was experienced. Handling two people at once? Drugging one, if not both? And the boldness of the attack at the church where anyone could have walked in—assuming it was the same person.
A 911 call had captured the killer’s voice but only a few muffled words. The cops planned to keep that information under wraps although they had allowed him to forward it to a good friend who was one of the leading communication and voice recognition experts in the Bureau, if not the world. Ironically, Eban hadn’t heard back from the guy yet.
Whoever this killer was they had enough experience to keep a cool head when most people would be freaking out. It suggested Martin and Adele weren’t his first kills and Eban wanted to know exactly what Fairbanks might be dealing with.
After he’d finished with ViCAP, Eban had gone to smooth things over with Police Chief Jacobs in regard to his less than transparent approach to the case yesterday.
Chief Jacobs hadn’t been hard to talk around. The promise of federal assistance with these murders had helped. Experts were already looking for any intersections between the lives of Martin Carstairs and Adele Surrey.
Currently, Eban was sitting in his rental vehicle outside Fairbanks PD, watching the hotshot lawyer make his pitch to the press. Eban had to hand it to the guy, he knew how to handle the media, the cops, and the university administration. Darby had been fully cleared in terms of her grad student status and the Institute had put out a statement fully in support of her, complaining about police action and misinformation yesterday.
Eban knew they were covering their ass. They’d requested Darby keep a low profile for the time being, out of respect for Martin and his family. Eban figured it was better for her too. He couldn’t keep her safe at the university. He wasn’t sure how he was going to protect her long term. Bottomline, they needed to solve this thing and apprehend the culprit so she could get on with her life.
The thought of leaving Darby behind afterward left a sour taste in his mouth, but maybe, if she was still interested, they could figure out a way of seeing one another semi regularly. See if they actually had something worth pursuing. See if their dreams about the future aligned.
Suddenly, the back door of his SUV opened and Darby jumped in. He’d been caught daydreaming when he should have been watching for a killer.
The lawyer followed her and slammed the door shut behind him. Eban checked his shoulder and pulled away as the press surged forward to get more photographs.
The lawyer eyed him via the rearview. “Nice to finally meet you, SSA Winters.”
“Call me Eban.” He drove down the street and turned left then left again, running a surveillance detection route to lose any photographers or anyone else lurking—especially anyone handy with a hunting knife. “Where’s your vehicle parked?”
“I grabbed a cab to the police station this morning. Do you mind dropping me at my hotel?” the lawyer asked.
“Not at all. Everything go all right back there?”
“I think so. Cops are clutching at straws and the press are smart enough to know when something stinks of incompetence. Hopefully, they’ll leave Darby alone now.”
Eban switched his attention to Darby who looked a little calmer away from the frenzy. “Killer left a glove at the church crime scene. I’d bet money it belongs to you. Any idea what else might be missing after the dance?”
“Not really.” Darby’s voice sounded strained. “I assumed I’d left my hat and gloves, and the shoes I wore for the dance, in my truck. I hadn’t realized someone had taken them.”
“I have asked for an itemized list of belongings that the police department seized by the end of day,” Byrne said.
“Something tells me some of your things will be missing.” Eban took a left and pulled into the driveway of Byrne’s downtown hotel.
“You think the killer took them?” Byrne asked.
“Yep.”
“For what purpose?” Byrne pursued the line of questioning like the defense lawyer he was.
Eban shrugged. No matter the circumstances he couldn’t ignore the fact that officially they were on opposite teams.
“I wish I could remember what happened that night.” Darby sounded forlorn.
“Maybe it’s as well you can’t, otherwise you might not have lived through the experience,” Byrne said.
Eban didn’t want to think about that and didn’t want Darby to think about it either. He pulled up near the hotel’s front entrance. He turned and lowered his dark sunglasses. “You planning on leaving today?”
Byrne checked his watch. “If I can get a flight out before this storm, yes. How long are you staying?”
Eban could feel Darby watching him. “As long as it takes. I have some vacation time I can use if need be.”
Byrne climbed out, leaned back inside. “You have my cell number and email, Darby. Call me anytime, day or night. And do not talk to the cops without me. I can send someone local to stall if there is some delay in me getting back here.” His voice warmed. “Take care of yourself.”
“Thank you for everything, Elliot.”
The guy closed the door and strode away, looking as if he owned the world.
Darby unclipped her seatbelt and climbed over into the front passenger seat next to Eban. “Where to now?”
He pulled out of the hotel’s driveway. “The way I see it we have two choices. First, the smarter option, head to the cabin, hunker down and get some rest while we let the cops solve this thing.” He wasn’t particularly confident about their abilities, but he didn’t tell Darby that.
“What’s the second option?”
“You accompany me—at a discreet but safe distance—while I start interviewing some of the people who might answer a few questions about what took place last night. I thought I’d start by visiting the church and see if I can talk to the pastor.”
“I have my laptop with me so I can sit in the car and work.”
Even though he was a little uneasy at the thought of leaving her in the car, he wasn’t sure he had much alternative. He wouldn’t be far away.
“I also want to talk to your therapist. Would you be cool with that?” He searched her surprised expression. “He won’t tell me anything confidential.”
Darby bit out a laugh. “You know as much about me as he does. More probably.” She shrugged. “I don’t mind. I wish it wasn’t necessary. I wish Adele and Martin weren’t dead.”
* * *
In his attempts to track down the pastor, Eban ended up at a local homeless shelter.
“Stay here.” He parked directly across the street from the entrance. “Keep the doors locked and do not get out of the car for any reason. I have my phone turned on.”
Eban left the engine running so Darby didn’t die of exposure and the engine didn’t freeze. He jogged across the road. He could not imagine living on the streets in such extreme conditions. Bad enough not to have a home, magnify that depressing reality by a thousand when the temperature dropped to thirty below. Exposed skin suffered frostbite within fifteen minutes. How long did it take for people to freeze to death? It was a grim thought and an unfortunate reality for some of the more vulnerable members of society living in harsh climates.
People didn’t always get a choice about the crappy situations in which they found themselves. He knew that from his own experiences as a child.
