What held him back before, what has kept him seemingly behaved on this case, appears to have disintegrated the moment I kissed him at the scene, and now he’s unleashed.

To protect him, I have to find a way to contain him. Which feels like an impossible challenge when he’s staring at me the way he is right now—like he wants to tear me apart.

I’ve never been a practicing psychologist, but I just need to get Kallum through this case without losing him completely to his unhinged urges.

Steeling my composure, I sit straighter as Agent Rana approaches and places a folder before me. “Your statement of events is here,” she says, flipping to an inserted page. “Mark anything that Tabitha says which contradicts, and your own assessment of her behavior.”

Rana places a folder in front of Kallum before she heads into the interrogation box with a markedly spurned Riddick, leaving Emmons standing at the back of the room with the other feds.

Agent Hernandez seats himself on the other side of Kallum, and they trade a look. Kallum parts the folder and angles it toward the agent, including him in the process.

As the questioning begins, Agent Rana has Tabitha state her name and occupation, her address, and other basic confirming details to get her comfortable answering questions.

With a frown, I glance back at Emmons. “Where is Tabitha’s representation?”

“She refused a lawyer,” he states simply.

“But you can provide her one regardless. She needs—” I stop at the hard draw of his features, understanding in an instant.

No one local wants to represent her.

I look at Crosby, and he shakes his head. “She can’t afford me, Miss St. James.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it.” Technically, I can’t afford him, either. He opted to be my counsel only because it serves Kallum’s best interests.

The lawyer hikes an eyebrow, amused. Apparently reading me pretty damn well.

As Agent Rana proceeds with the interview, each of her questions are met with either silence or a dismissive, “I don’t know,” from Tabitha.

Anxiety hitches to my already mounting nerves. I drum my pen against my thigh, curbing the impulse to pace the room. A slow simmer has been building within me, a threat to escalate into a dangerous fire.

And the way Kallum continues to stare at me is not helping to keep it under control.

Drawing in a measured breath, I try to write out a note on the page, but my thoughts are conflicted. I’m torn over whether I actually want Tabitha to cooperate or not.

There’s no verifiable proof that this woman was the one who laced my coffee at the diner. As long as she remains quiet, the feds can’t technically charge her with any crime.

Tabitha’s demeanor has always seemed reserved. This could be her default coping mechanism, or her personality in general. Only as I study her body language, watching the way she periodically tugs at the headband, I realize this is a comfort object. Each time she situates the band, she’s fortifying her defensive wall.

Someone has instructed her. Someone who understands the inner workings of law enforcement. Her tic is a learned behavior from a coach.

I think back to when Tabitha handed me the to-go cup at the booth. Right before I got the call from Crosby, as Tabitha retreated away from the table, she looked back at me—and I realize she knew exactly what was in that drink. For the briefest second, she felt guilt.

The first time we met Tabitha, Kallum pointed out her odd behavior at not questioning us about the remains at the crime scene. I brushed it off as her being untrusting, a part of a tight-knit community.

But Kallum never says anything randomly.

I lean toward him and whisper, “You could get her to talk.” Kallum had a kind of rapport with her. He was able to obtain more information from her by simply winking at her than Agent Rana is getting now.

“I think the agent is doing fine.” He covers his mouth with his hand, an action I’ve now studied enough to know is his tell. Kallum might not lie to me, but his body language discloses when he’s holding back the truth.

Admittedly, the best-case scenario for us would be if Devyn was never found.

I mentally play out the ensuing months. Devyn disappears. The case goes cold. Kallum is relocated to a new facility to finish out his treatment, where he’d receive a shortened sentence after Crosby renegotiates his contract.

No trials. No prison time. For any of us. No tug-of-war between my loyalty to Kallum versus my promise to help Devyn.

Ostensibly, it’s the best outcome—the one where no one suffers.

Only I can’t silence that tiny voice inside me.

I lean over the table toward the agent recording the session. “Tell Agent Rana to have Tabitha remove her headband.”

The agent says, and somewhat annoyed, “Agent Rana can hear you.”

Rana directs an incensed glare at the mirror before she says to Tabitha, “Miss Yarrow, can you please remove your hair piece.”

From the fringe of my vision, I see Kallum’s features darken. His bruised knuckles bleach as his hand fists atop the table.

Tabitha pulls her lip between her teeth as worry creases her forehead. She speaks to Detective Riddick. “Do I have to?”

“No one can force you,” he says to her, “but it would work in your favor to cooperate.”

Tabitha fidgets with the hem of her shirt. She’s truly upset. She wasn’t instructed on how to handle this situation.

My conviction winning out, I stand and exit the viewing room. The officer guarding the door rolls his shoulders and reinforces his stance, and a shot of anger injects my bloodstream.

Before I realize I’ve done so, I’ve stepped up to him. “Move.”

He stands his place, but an unsure flinch in his features reveals enough hesitancy for me to shoulder past him and push through the door.

I’m greeted with a rigid scowl from Agent Rana. “You’re not allowed to be here⁠—”

“Tabitha,” I address her directly. “I know Devyn has told you not to help us. She really, really dislikes the feds.” At this, a small smile twitches at her lips. “I know how worried you are for Devyn. Honestly, I’m worried for her, too. We both want to help her. She’s out there alone, right? I know you don’t want her to be alone. I promise, I’ll make sure she gets help. That’s what she needs, Tabitha.”

After she considers my words for a moment, she reluctantly removes the headband.

And my heart crashes against my chest.

As I stare at the crown of Tabitha’s head, Rana follows my line of sight.

It’s Riddick who declares what we’re all seeing. “Christ,” he says, standing so he can lean over the table for better inspection. “What the hell are those?”

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. Because I know.

I saw them on the victim at the hunting grounds. I saw them on the vanished locals as they danced around a circle of fire, and then on Devyn as she rocked me to the rhythmic drumbeat amid her ritual.

“They’re implants,” I say, tasting the bitter tension in the air.

Only where the victim’s flayed scalp merely held the stainless-steel implants, Tabitha’s harbor the finely shaped bone of antler nubs.

Realization washes over me with a cold prickling sensation. What Kallum said during our ritual comes back, about how antlers are adorned by an initiate of the mysteries, making them more godlike the closer they are to the sky.

The size is status. Maybe even a rank.

Devyn has a hierarchy, and it reaches outside of her inner circle of higher men.

I look to the mirror, as if I can find Kallum’s eyes through the glass, but only my reflection stares back.

“Tabitha, I need you to explain what this is,” Agent Rana says to her in a more subdued tone.

Bolstering her resolve, Tabitha says, “I want a lawyer.”

Detective Riddick frowns with a severe draw to his dark eyebrows as he nods with finality. “All right, then. I’ll see who I can find.”