“Gina said you’re staying here?” he asked.
“Tonight. She doesn’t think I should stay alone since I hit my head.
“Good. I’ll stay too. On the couch.”
Brooke looked at Gina, who lifted her shoulder. “Fine by me.”
“Is that okay with you?” Tyler asked Brooke.
“Absolutely.”
A knock at the door made everyone look in that direction. Nick moved to answer it, peering through the window first before opening the door.
“It’s Boverman,” Nick said in a loud whisper.
“The deputy?” Gina asked, looking at Brooke. “Was he going to get another statement?”
Brooke shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
“He’s out of uniform,” Nick said. “Want me to get rid of him?”
“Please,” Brooke replied. “I’m not up for his . . . anything.”
“No problem, Cuz.” Nick winked before opening the door. “Hey, there. Something—”
Adam pushed his way inside. His eyes immediately found Tyler.
“What is he doing here?” Adam’s voice was low and dangerous.
“Hey, dude,” Nick said, putting his hand on Adam’s chest. “You weren’t invited inside.”
“Get your hands off me unless you want to be arrested for battery on an officer.”
Nick removed his hand as he said, “Are you here on official business? Out of uniform?” He looked out the still-open door. “And driving your personal car?”
“As far as you’re concerned, I’m always on business.”
“Pretty sure that’s not how it works.”
“Deputy, this isn’t a good time,” Gina said, moving toward the men.
“I want to know why a murder suspect is in your house with Brooke.” Adam pushed past Gina, his attention fixed on Tyler. “Did you do this? Did you attack her?”
Tyler stood slowly, keeping his hands visible. “I was at the shop. Working. Robert can verify that.”
“Right. Like he wouldn’t lie for you?”
“Deputy Boverman, that’s enough,” Gina said sharply.
But Adam wasn’t listening. He stepped closer to Tyler, his face twisted with anger and something that looked almost like desperation.
“You killed your wife and kid. You killed Sheila. Now you’re terrorizing Brooke. Tried to kill her. When are you going to admit what you are?”
The words hit like bullets. Tyler felt something crack open inside him, something he’d kept carefully sealed for years.
“I never touched my family,” Tyler said, his voice raw. “I loved them. I would’ve died for them.”
“That’s what they all say. Every abuser, every killer—they all claim they loved their victims right up until they’re convicted.”
