Page 290 of Chameleon Killer

“Prison system?”

“Maybe.”

I reached for it.

He pulled it back.

I stared at him.

“Coffee.”

“You cannot hold documents hostage.”

“Watch me.”

“These are fighting words, Carter.”

“Half the cup.”

“Extortion.”

“Hydration.”

“Coffee isn't hydrating.”

“Then you don't get to count it toward your daily fluid intake anymore.”

I narrowed my eyes.

He did the same.

I returned to my desk and downed half the coffee. He followed me, then handed me the envelope.

“Asshole.”

“Love you too.”

The words slipped between us so naturally I almost missed them.

Almost.

I looked at him.

He was already opening his laptop.

I smiled. Then I opened the envelope. Inside were copies of invoices, procurement forms, emails, and what looked like internal accounting records.

My pulse began to climb.

There it was. That feeling. The little shift in the universe when apparently unrelated facts brushed against each other and whispered that something wasn't right.

I spread the pages across the table.

Flint came over. “What do you see?”

“I don't know yet.”

“Good answer.”