Page 248 of Chameleon Killer

“So,” I said, circling back to my original question. “What exactly did you ask?”

Brewster stared at me.

Flint stroked his thumb along my thigh beneath the table. It was a comforting gesture, warm and steady.

I waited.

Finally Brewster admitted, “I asked whether he'd told you why I withheld the toxicology.”

Flint’s hand stilled.

“And?” I raised my eyebrows when Brewster didn’t finish his sentence.

“He said no.”

That surprised me and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. “Simon answered you directly?”

“Yes.”

That surprised me more. He always seemed to circle the questions, asking his own, honing the information down like a wood carver.

“What else?”

Brewster looked toward the windows.

“Elliot.”

“He said he didn't need to tell you.” He didn’t look at me, his gaze seeming to search the passing traffic outside.

A cold little sensation crawled along my spine. “Because Guy already has the answer.”

“Yes.”

I sat back, hands wrapped around my coffee mug as I raised it for another sip. The weight of Flint’s hand on my thigh was a comfort but it also grounded me as I sorted through all of the information.

Running down what we knew, and what questions we still had. Guy died. His medical records were doctored. Fourteen pages were missing. There were two toxicology reports—one of which had been processed outside the hospital per Brewster.

“What happened to the original sample?” Most blood draws took more than needed in case the test had to be rerun. I hadn’t even realized that we didn’t know or how important that was until I asked it.

“What?” Brewster frowned.

“The blood.”

“I heard you.”

“Then what’s the answer?”

His expression had frozen like someone hit a pause button. The tight furrow of his brow coupled with the whitening of his knuckles on his coffee mug before he drained it also told me something.

“The first draw had to go somewhere.” When Brewster continued to say nothing, I laid out my thinking for them both. “If there were two tox screens, there were samples. Tubes. Chain of custody. Lab accession numbers.”

Flint looked at me. I could practically hear his brain shifting gears.

I continued. “The records are missing because we've been looking at results.”

Brewster said nothing.

“Not specimens.”