Page 281 of Chameleon Killer

My arm was getting tired. My everything hurt. “Give me one reason.”

He tilted his head. “To let me leave?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

I stared at him. “No?”

“If you require me to justify your decision, then it isn't yours.”

I wanted to shoot him just for saying that. Maybe he knew. Maybe that was the point. I thought about the little girl who had learned that being accused of something could become more important than whether you'd actually done it.

About facts. Narratives. Authority. Accuracy. Truth.

Truth was a bitch.

Simon was a killer.

Simon had manipulated me.

Simon had killed people who didn't deserve to die.

Simon had saved my life.

All of those things were true.

None erased the others. I looked down at the gun in my hand. We stood there in silence for a long time.

Finally, I said, “I don’t forgive you.”

“I know.”

“This isn't absolution.”

“I know.”

“If I see you again⁠—”

“You'll have questions.”

A wet laugh escaped me. “Goddammit.”

That faint almost-smile returned. I hated that too.

Sirens sounded somewhere in the distance.

I looked toward the warehouse entrance.

Simon didn't.

That told me something. “You called them.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Before I came inside.”