Page 189 of Chameleon Killer

It took about twenty minutes, but Ortiz did us one better. She let Alisha’s assistant bring us coffee and snacks from Starbuck’s. They found one open at—it was after five in the morning, so yes, they were open.

Once we had supplies, Ortiz led us to another commandeered room. This one contained monitors. A lot of monitors.

Agent Ruiz sat at the workstation, looking as though he'd aged five years since I'd last seen him.

Brewster stood behind him. When we entered, his gaze landed on my hand. Flint had taken it again somewhere between the consultation room and here.

I hadn't noticed. Ruiz glanced toward me. “Ms. McBryan.”

“Agent.”

He looked uncomfortable. “I'm going to show you approximately four minutes.”

“Okay.”

“The recording is not being presented as authenticated.”

“Understood.”

“Some portions of the audio are confirmed manipulated.”

“Define manipulated.” I wanted the clarity more than anything else. Manipulated could literally mean just about anything.

His eyes flicked toward Brewster as the profiler said, “We'll get to that.”

I ignored him and kept my gaze on Ruiz who rewarded my attention.

“We've identified repeated waveform segments in audio attributed to you.”

My stomach tightened. “Meaning?”

“Identical recordings used more than once.”

I stared at him. “My voice?”

“Yes.”

“From tonight?”

“We don't know the timing.”

That wasn't comforting. “Could it have come from my broadcasts?”

“Possibly.”

“Phone calls?”

“Possibly.”

“Previous interviews?”

“Anything recorded digitally is theoretically source material.”

I glanced toward Flint. His expression had closed.

Brewster said, “Play it.”

Ruiz did.