Page 221 of Chameleon Killer

“What review?” The merest hint of impatience slipped into his voice.

“Guy Reardon's medical records.”

“Are these the same records with fourteen pages missing?” You never asked a question during an interrogation if you weren’t certain of the response.

“Yes.”

Warren glanced toward Martin's image on the screen. I disliked that glance.

“What?” When neither answered immediately, I focused on the man opposite me. “Warren.”

“We're trying to establish who knew what and when.”

Really? I wasn’t a suspect scooped up during a sting. “You know when I learned about it.”

“Then explain it to me.”

I clenched my jaw. Three hours earlier, I'd been questioning Mallory.Now I understood why she'd found this so irritating.

“The initial discrepancy surfaced during a federal records comparison.”

“Date?”

I gave it to him and he wrote it down—in pencil—on the outside of the folder in front of him.

“Who was present?”

“Ruiz.”

“Anyone else?”

“No.”

“Did you document it?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Case notes.”

“Those notes aren't in the shared file.” He studied me as though weighing whether he’d caught he in a slip or not.

Not. “They're in my working file.”

Warren’s expression changed by perhaps half a degree. It was enough. “Why?”

“Because we hadn't authenticated the discrepancy.” Which was SOP, I had questions. I needed what information I had authenticated.

“So you withheld it from CPD.”

“I didn't withhold anything. I don’t disseminate unverified information.”

Martin finally spoke from the screen. “You disseminated it to McBryan.”

My attention shifted to him as I owned this particular mistake. “Inadvertently.”

“Yes?” Challenge resonated in that single syllable courtesy of Martin whose unreadable gaze seemed fixed on me.