Page 252 of Chameleon Killer

“You say potato, I say pot-ah-to.” I leaned forward. “You keep asking what Simon told me.”

Brewster said nothing.

“You asked whether he talked about you. Whether he accused you of hiding evidence. Whether he told me you knew why Guy died.”

“Yes.” The word exploded out of him on a wave of frustration that had him knocking over his cup.

Fortunately, there wasn’t a lot of coffee left in it. Flint slapped a couple of napkins onto the mess before it could stream across the table to me.

“He's trying to turn you against me,” Brewster said in hard tone.

“Maybe.” I tilted my head. “But you supplied every one of those possibilities.”

His nostrils flared.

Elliot hadn't tracked us down because Simon might kill me. He'd tracked us down because he knew I wouldn't stop digging. Simon had pointed me somewhere Elliot desperately didn't want me looking.

At Elliot.

The realization was so clean it almost felt quiet. I didn't know what he'd done. Hell, I didn't know if he'd done anything.

But Elliot Brewster was afraid of my questions.

That was enough to make me ask better ones.

“You’re not going to stop.” It wasn’t a question, but Brewster looked resigned. Finally.

“Nope.”

“Then don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.” He slid out of the booth and rose. Flint started to rise.

I caught his hand beneath the table.

Don't.

He looked at me.

I gave the smallest shake of my head.

Brewster stared at me, then he looked at Flint. “If she doesn’t stop, you won’t be able to protect her.”

“I’ve got her back.” Flint's expression didn't change.

With a long sigh, Brewster peeled off a few dollars and dropped them on the table. “I hope you know what you're doing.”

“I rarely do,” I told him. “That's why I ask so many questions.”

He didn't smile.

Neither did I.

He walked away.

The bell over the diner door rang once.

I watched him through the window until he disappeared around the corner.

“We need to go back to the network,” I told Flint as I pulled out my phone.