Page 204 of Chameleon Killer

“I’m an adult. I can survive curiosity.”

She studied me for a moment as the light changed and I took the next turn on my way to my apartment.

“I'll tell you.”

My gaze shifted toward her before I could stop myself.

“But not in the car,” she added.

“Why?”

“I don't trust the car.”

I almost laughed but she didn’t join me. The sober look on her face said she wasn’t joking and I swept a look over the car.

Someone could have bugged it. FBI. CIA. Homeland security.

Simon.

I grimaced again. Right, paranoia wasn’t as unhealthy as some people thought. They’d had time to bug my apartment too. But I could sweep it. I’d have to sweep the car later.

“Fair,” I said and we drove the rest of the way without discussing the case.

The garage beneath my building had never looked so good. I parked in my assigned spot and shut off the engine.

Mallory unbuckled but didn't move.

Neither did I.

We'd arrived.

Apparently that complicated things.

“Home,” she murmured. The word was so quiet I almost convinced myself she'd said something else.

I looked at her. She stared through the windshield.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. But something in her expression had changed.

I filed it away. Then hated myself for filing it anywhere. We’d spent too much time around the damn feds.

“Come on.” I was torn between shuffling exhaustion and over-caffeinated adrenaline. I could have taken the stairs, but I settled for the private elevator. At least it was secure.

Mallory leaned against the wall again. This time her shoulder rested against mine. Neither of us mentioned it.

When the elevator opened directly into the small vestibule outside my apartment, she waited while I unlocked the door.

I checked the frame first.

The lock.

The hinge.

Then the tiny paper strip I'd wedged behind the upper jamb before we left.

Still intact.