Page 178 of Chameleon Killer

Detective Lena Ortiz. Major Crimes.

She had introduced herself without shaking my hand and spent most of the last hour looking at Brewster as though the Bureau had personally sent him to fuck with her.

I liked her already.

My attorney sat on my left.

Alisha Phang had arrived forty-eight minutes after I requested counsel, wearing tailored black trousers, a cream blouse, and the expression of a woman who had been awakened in the middle of the night and intended to make that someone else's problem.

She'd taken one look at me then at Flint before she swept her gaze over the collection of federal agents and Chicago detectives.

Then she sighed. It was far from melodramatic. If anything, it transported me back to the days when my grandmother made her disappointment known.

Ms. Phang had been Colin's recommendation years ago, though I'd never needed her services personally. Until tonight.

That ache resonated in places I preferred to keep tucked away for now. I’d mourn in private.

Alisha arranged three legal pads directly in front of her, lined up two pens beside them, and then addressed Flint and me before allowing anyone else to speak.

“For purposes of tonight, I represent both of you.”

Flint nodded.

I did too.

“At present, your interests appear aligned.” Her gaze moved between us. “If I determine that changes, I stop everything and one of you gets separate counsel. You don't get to waive a conflict because you're tired, irritated, fond of each other, or convinced you'll save everyone time.”

My eyebrows lifted. Flint remained suspiciously motionless.

Alisha's gaze settled on me. “Do we understand each other?” Everything in her tone said do not fuck with me. It won’t be worth it.

I really liked her.

“Yes.” I inclined my head.

“Mr. Carter?”

“Yes.” He sounded a little grumpier about it.

“Good.”

I picked up my coffee. “Define aligned.”

Flint closed his eyes. Alisha stared at me.

I sipped.

Eventually, she said, “You're going to be exhausting.”

“You have no idea,” Flint murmured.

I kicked him lightly beneath the table.

Alisha noticed. “Wonderful,” she said. “Children.”

“I resent that,” Flint muttered. “She started it.”

“Save it.”