Page 118

Tyler continued demanding to know where we were going, but I ignored him. The effort required to fight me had already taken its toll. His thoughts were still frantic, but his attempts to regain control came less frequently and with diminishing strength.

The cab eventually slowed and pulled in beside the curb, the illuminated blue sign outside the police station filling our vision.

For one suspended moment, Tyler went completely still.

Then his consciousness erupted.

No.

He tried to force our mouth open, but the only sound he managed was a strangled grunt.

Rowan leaned forward. “Cal?”

“Don’t worry. I still have control.”

Tyler made one more attempt to wrench it from me. Our shoulder struck the door, and one foot twitched before I pinned both legs in place. There was little power behind the struggle now. He’d exhausted himself fighting me at the house, and all that remained was panic.

Sit still, I told him again.

Please.

That was new.

Please don’t make me go in there.

He was pleading with the wrong person. If he escaped justice, Rowan would be unhappy. If Rowan was unhappy, so was I. Therefore, there was nothing he could say that would change my mind.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Rowan asked as I reached for the door handle.

“Yes.”

“I’ll see you at home then.”

I nodded and climbed out of the cab. Tyler attempted to turn back toward Rowan, but I clamped down on the movement. Every step toward the entrance drew another weak protest from him.

It really was an accident.

I kept walking.

I’m not lying.

None of that matters because of what you did afterwards.

That silenced him.

The station was brightly lit and almost empty. A uniformed officer stood behind the front desk, staring at a computer screen. He looked up when I approached. “Can I help you?”

“I need to speak to someone.”

“What about?”

“The death of Isla Hayes.”

His expression sharpened. “What about it?”

I made Tyler meet his gaze. “I killed her.”

The officer stared at me. “What’s your name?”