CHAPTER 123
Calla stared at Vincent, absorbing every detail—the golden flecks in his eyes and the anxious crease between them; the soft layer of stubble on his jaw; the slope of his neck and the slight curl of his hair, desperately in need of a trim. I'm going to lose him, she thought. Calla was resigned to that fact. She could see the end, could feel the final, shuddering breaths of what lay between them. In its own way, this felt like death. Like the burning away of something old and decayed. And from the ashes, she wasn't sure what would rise. "I killed Tracy Smith," she said into the frigid, dark air, her words a cloud of white against the looming headlights. Some distance away, Cooper started choking on his own spit. "You..." He gasped, bending at the waist to catch his breath. Once
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