Page 225 of Chameleon Killer

“Bullshit.”

I almost smiled. Mallory would have appreciated that. The thought pissed me off more.

“You haven’t left me much choice.” Warren exhaled. “I'm placing you on administrative leave pending review.”

“No.”

His eyebrows rose. “No?” he repeated.

“You need me.”

“The task force existed before you.”

I shrugged. Existing didn’t make it competent or effective. “The task force didn't understand him before me.”

“And you do?” Warren challenged me, but whether because he truly didn’t believe me or he wanted to incite a reaction—I didn’t know and I didn’t care.

“Yes.” I didn’t even hesitate. We were discussing my job. The job where I studied patterns, behavior, escalation, and need.

What none of them seemed to grasp was the unsub had refined his system, a system Mallory discovered because she was too clever by half. That let the unsub notice her, and when that happened, the real danger began.

That continued to be the real danger.

It wasn’t Carter or me or even Mallory a this point. It was all the unsub.

“He's conditioning her.”

Warren’s expression closed. “Don't.”

I pivoted to face him. “You saw the feed.”

“I saw a fabricated feed.”

I dismissed his excuse. “Built to demonstrate exactly what he's doing.”

“Or,” he countered. “Perhaps built to make you believe that's what he's doing.”

“He wants her isolated from law enforcement.” They couldn’t argue that.

“She's not isolated.” Martin chimed in from the laptop.

I snorted. “She doesn't trust us.”

“Correction,” Warren said in a far cooler tone. “She doesn't trust you.” His voice didn’t soften once as he continued, “She cooperated with Ortiz. She cooperated with Ruiz. She surrendered physical evidence. She retained counsel. She stayed with Carter.”

“Carter isn't law enforcement.”

“No,” Martin said and this time, I swore there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “But he's apparently someone she trusts.”

The anger returned, swift and ugly. I stepped toward the desk. “You think that makes her safe?”

“I think you're proving my point,” Warren informed me.

Goddammit. They were right about one thing. I was angry. It didn’t make me wrong, but it wasn’t helping me win this argument with the paper pushers.

“He doesn't want her dead,” I warned them.

Martin shifted on the screen. “You've said that before.”