Page 247 of Chameleon Killer

The profiler’s eyes flashed.

“My house,” Flint reminded him.

“We're in a diner.” The snap was equal parts outrage and anger.

“My rules traveled.”

Despite myself, I smiled then I leaned against Flint as he unfolded the paper so I could read over his arm.

Three lines.

You keep asking what I told her.

Ask yourself what she will discover without me.

Guy already has the answer.

I read it twice. Then a third time.

“Guy already has the answer,” I murmured.

“He's dead,” Flint said.

“Yes.”

Brewster watched me. Too closely.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head.

“Bullshit.”

His expression tightened.

I leaned forward. “What do you think it means?”

“I don't know.” A lie. It registered like a ping on a sonar.

“That's why you came here?”

“Yes.” Another lie.

“No.” I shook my head and then tapped the paper. “This didn't send you here.”

“Yes, it did.”

Somehow, I doubted he could convince himself with that tone. “It made you afraid.”

His gaze cooled. “Mallory.”

“What did you ask him?” I ignored the warning in his voice.

“I told you.”

“No. You told us you asked him about what he told me about you.” The devil was always in the details.

He grimaced, but didn’t deny it.