Page 253 of Chameleon Killer

He sighed. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” He raised his hand. When the waitress hurried over, he said, “I want to place two to go orders, and more coffee. This time for me too.”

“Sure thing, hon.”

I glanced up from the photos I was paging through on my phone. I wanted to look at the files we’d photographed again. Flint met my gaze with a wry smile and I grinned at him.

Yes, Flint got me.

Two hours later, I’d changed into something from my locker so I could pretend to be a bit professional and Flint got dragged into a meeting with the executives.

Enhancing an image took time and patience. I was perilously low on both. But I didn’t want to drag anyone else into this, not until I was certain.

The program continued rendering and I sipped my coffee as it counted down the last thirty seconds. I just hoped this one worked or I’d be doing it again.

My eyes were gritty, my stomach a little sour but I kind of wanted more of those crispy fried potatoes with onions and peppers. Breakfast felt eons ago. The coffee from the office machine was promising me an ulcer as I paced restlessly.

When the machine dinged, I all but leapt into the chair and watched as the image flickered and rolled as it showed me the last line ordering the sample to be destroyed. It had been ticked on the previous page, but the one that followed it was something else, but there were impressions from the pen.

Impressions that showed the force used to fill it out. The enhanced image was hard to read, but it was there.

I zoomed in a little closer.

E. BREWSTER.

I knew it. I knew it before I’d gone hunting for the pictures. I’d known it before I started the enhancement. The answer had been right there, but I hadn’t even told Flint.

Because I wanted to be wrong.

My pulse went strangely quiet. Simon hadn’t pointed me at Elliot to distance me from the agent. He’d done it because he suspected or had already linked him. Then to make his point, he'd pointed Elliot toward me.

The conference-room door clicked shut behind me.

I didn't turn around. It had been too late the from the moment I decided to come here and prove what I knew.

“You really should have stopped, Mallory.”

Elliot.

Fuck.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

SIMON

Elliot Brewster had become careless. Not stupid. Careless.

Stupid men were predictable because they lacked the capacity to recognize the consequences of their choices. Careless men recognized those consequences and acted anyway.

Elliot had always been painfully intelligent. For a time, that had made him interesting.

I watched Mallory pace behind the workstation while the enhancement software continued its analysis. She had changed clothes since the diner. Black trousers. Pale blue shirt. Sleeves pushed to her elbows.

Her coffee sat beside the keyboard. She had forgotten it. That was unusual. Mallory rarely forgot coffee. The corner of my mouth curved.

Carter had been summoned upstairs twelve minutes earlier. An executive meeting he had attempted to postpone twice before Mallory finally told him to go.

He had resisted. Of course he had. A Sunday meeting with the executives couldn’t be good news, but that wasn’t what bothered Carter.