Page 170 of Chameleon Killer

Neither agent answered.

Switching his attention to Brewster, Flint asked, “What?”

With a dismissive wave, Brewster said, “We'll discuss it downstairs.”

“No.” Flint's voice remained perfectly level. “We'll discuss it now.”

“This is an active scene.” Fresh anger flashed into Brewster’s eyes.

“You asked whether she communicated by audio.” The correction, delivered in a light tone, carried a much heavier weight. Something else was going on here. Something I wasn’t aware of.

“Because it's relevant.” Once again, Brewster tried to wave Flint off, but I could have told him that would never work. Once Flint got his teeth into something, I was practically reasonable by comparison.

Flint's eyes hardened. “That's not why.”

I looked between them. There was an entire conversation happening around me that I hadn't been invited to. I hated it.

“What happened downstairs?” Irritatingly, they both ignored me.

Instead, Brewster eyed me. “Did he identify himself?”

Interesting pivot. But I wasn’t playing anymore. “Answer mine.”

“Mallory.”

“Elliot.”

A muscle flexed beside his mouth. There was something almost satisfying about being able to irritate him when I was exhausted.

“We need to get you out of this building.” Another pivot, one I bought even less than the previous. He wanted me to answer his questions and that was it.

“Eventually.” It wasn’t a promise, just an offer.

Apparently, he wasn’t buying it either. “Now.” The order grated.

“I want to know what happened downstairs,” I told him.

“And I want to know exactly what happened up here.” Mine had been a far more pleasant comment than his, but here we were.

The stalemate.

Flint shifted me, easing me back a half-step so he could move more between us. He wasn’t blocking Brewster, but there was no mistaking the body language. If he wanted to get to me, Brewster would have to go through Flint.

The non-verbal communication translated very well.

The arrival of one of the tactical agents save them from addressing the translation immediately. “Floor's clear.”

It also bought me a moment away from Brewster’s intense glare as he switched his attention to the agent. “Entire floor?”

“Every accessible space.”

“Secondary exits?”

“Checking.”

“Windows?”

“Sealed on the east side. Some construction openings west, but nothing showing recent disturbance.”