Page 277 of Chameleon Killer

“Shut up.”

“You know you can't.”

Brewster's breathing changed.

“You can't arrest me, Elliot.”

“I said shut up.”

But Simon didn’t stop. “Because you no longer have a badge.”

“Shut up.” The words crackled.

“You can't prove what you've done was necessary if I go to trial.” Simon sounded so utterly reasonable and sympathetic.

“Stop.” Brewster shook.

“You need me dead.”

The gun shifted away from my throat, toward Simon.

I might not get another chance, so I moved I drove my elbow backward as hard as I could. Brewster grunted. The gun fired. The sound threatened to deafen me.

Dropping, I escaped Brewster’s hold. Simon moved.

There was another shot.

Then another.

For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except ringing. I’d brought my arms up to cover my head in a primitive if futile effort to protect myself.

When nothing else happened, I pushed myself upright. Brewster lay on his back not more than a foot away from me. Blood spread beneath his shirt as he stared upward, his face still a rictus of denial.

Simon stood six feet away. A gun hung from his hand.

Brewster's weapon lay near me. But I crawled toward Brewster anyway. Why? I had no idea. Instinct? History?

Stupidity.

“Elliot,” I said his name softly, half-afraid he wouldn’t answer. Half-afraid he would.

His gaze turned toward mine. For a moment, I didn’t think he recognized me, but then his mouth moved. I couldn’t hear him, not with my ears still ringing.

“Don’t try to talk.” I couldn’t hear myself properly. Maybe he couldn’t either.

His fingers closed weakly around my wrist. “He'll—” A cough interrupted him. Blood touched his lips.

“He'll what?”

His eyes shifted toward Simon who hadn’t moved. Then he looked back up at me. “He’ll make you believe…” But his voice faded, his grip loosened, and his hand fell.

I pressed my fingers against his throat. Nothing.

“No.”

I tried again. Nothing. Elliot Brewster was dead. I sat there with my hand against his neck long after there was any reason to keep it there.

Eventually the ringing faded enough for sound to return. My own breathing. Water somewhere outside.