Page 261 of Chameleon Killer

The sedan pulled away. I acquired the plate. Six keystrokes later, it pulled up as false. I tracked the vehicle through the intersection.

Lost it.

Found it again two blocks later.

Lost it again.

He had planned the route. None of this was spur of the moment. It made me wonder how long it had taken him to lay out this trap. That would be useful information.

Later.

I opened the newsroom feed. Paramedics had reached Carter. He remained unconscious. One paramedic held pressure against his head while another cut open his shirt.

Blood at his shoulder. Not center mass.

Good.

The shot had caught him high. Ideal. Probably survivable. Mallory would ask. I wanted an answer when she did. I watched until they loaded him onto a stretcher.

After verifying once more that he was alive, I closed the feed.

Brewster had arranged for the attack. Hurt him because Carter had gotten between them. Or maybe because it would hurt Mallory.

Perhaps both.

He would understand that. He’d profiled her for months. Then again, Brewster had stopped seeing her quite so clearly. That was truly the problem with obsession. Eventually even the most beloved object ceased being a person.

It became about the need and she was a possession.

Proof.

I understood obsession. Better than Brewster realized. That was why I had recognized the change in him long before anyone else. He still thought his fixation remained centered on me.

It hadn't. Not for some time. It had begun in the first months of Mallory’s coverage. I had become the explanation for everything he could not control. My response to Mallory enticed him.

Mallory had become the thing he could not afford to lose. Then she chose Carter. And today she had discovered Brewster’s name attached to evidence he believed safely buried.

The equation had simplified itself.

I opened every record I possessed on Elliot Brewster.

Properties.

Vehicles.

Family.

Former addresses.

Training sites.

Case locations.

Financial records.

Safe houses.

Hotels.