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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.
