Page 110 of Chameleon Killer

The words settled between us.

Not a promise.

Not yet.

Something closer to one than either of us had said aloud.

I turned toward the board before I did something impulsive.

“Code phrase,” I said.

Thankfully, Flint allowed the retreat. “Something you wouldn’t normally say.”

“That eliminates ‘you were right.’” I almost smirked.

“I’ve heard it twice,” he mused.

“Both under duress.”

“Still counts.” Getting cocky now, was he?

I considered. “What if I say I’ve changed my mind?”

“You never say that.”

“Exactly.”

“That may be too obvious.”

“To him or you?”

“Yes.”

I sighed.

He wrote at the bottom of the board:

I’VE SEEN ENOUGH.

I read it. It worked as a phrase a reporter could say at the end of an interview. A phrase that would mean the opposite if I used it. I don’t think I’d ever said I’ve seen enough.

“That works.”

“If you say it, I come in.”

“No matter what?”

“No matter what.”

“And if I don’t?”

His eyes held mine. “I wait.” That answer cost him. I could hear it.

“Where?”

“Close.”

“How close?”