Page 103 of Chameleon Killer

“I didn’t want you going there blind,” he said finally.

“So you went blind first.” I wanted to slug him.

“I went late and stayed in public areas. I told security across the street I was scouting a documentary location.”

“After midnight?” I couldn’t bury the skepticism. “And the security guard believed you?”

“I’m a very good liar,” he said without missing a beat.

“That’s my line.”

“I learned from the best.”

The same words I had used with him days earlier. This time they carried none of the playfulness.

I looked back at the board.

He had taken the invitation seriously enough to replace our entire investigation with a tactical map.

Because he knew I would go. The realization settled painfully beneath my ribs.

“You’re not talking me out of it,” I said.

“I know.”

“Then what are you doing?” With all of this? I wanted to know why he insisted on taking risks?

“Making sure you come back.”

His answer rocked me. It shouldn’t have. But it did. After setting the second cup of coffee down, I folded my arms to keep from reaching for him again.

After a couple of steadying breaths, I focused on doing the job. “How?”

“We start with the card.” He was all business again.

“You said we shouldn’t test it.”

“We don’t. We photograph the chipset, identify the manufacturer, and determine what systems use the encoding.” He drained his—what? Seventh? Eighth?—cup of coffee. “If you’d left it out, I could have already started on that.”

Or just gotten rid of it altogether, which was why it was in the pocket of my sleep shorts.

“I’m going back to my original question. How?”

He just eyed me. “I know someone.”

“Of course you do.”

“You’re not the only person with sources.” Apparently my comment about losing his mojo really had chafed.

So, I went with it. “I’m still better at it.”

“Debatable.”

“False.”

His mouth twitched. A small victory.

“Then the building,” he continued. “Already requested current fire inspection records, active permits, elevator certifications, and security contracts.”