Page 50 of Chameleon Killer

“Don’t mouth words you don’t believe.” The grim note shifted to something more impatient. Impatient with me. When I glanced at him, he added, “He called within minutes of our paradigm shift.”

“I know.”

“Which suggests he’s not just watching you on air anymore.” The tension in Flint just seemed to stretch tighter and tighter the more he spoke.

“I know.”

“He’s inside the building.” He didn’t add despite all the security and the presence of the FBI.

“I know.”

“Mallory.”

“I said, I know.” I kept my focus on the whiteboard and not on Flint’s growing aggravation. Underneath all the gruffness was an element of fear. I couldn’t let that dictate what I did though, because the moment we let self-preservation derail this, we lost the story.

The marker squeaked against the board as I underlined bodies.

The dead didn’t speak. Not literally. I refused to believe he wanted me to consult a medium or something. No, when the Auditor contacted me, he was deliberate in his wording. He said no more than he needed and no less than required to get his message across.

So, the dead didn’t speak, but what did they do?

They left records.

Wounds.

Toxicology.

Trace evidence.

Medical histories.

Financial trails.

Every body was a document written in a language of life and death. A language the investigators parsed from the agents to the coroners to the profilers.

We—I—had treated them as a list.

Victim one.

Victim two.

Victim three.

Each reduced to a photograph, an occupation, a crime, and the manner in which the Auditor had punished them.

The evidence he left with them, that detailed their crimes once you deciphered it. All of it followed a pattern. It was how they identified who was a victim of the Auditor and who wasn’t.

Right. So…

“What do we actually know about the bodies?” I asked.

Still wreathed in an aura of protective irritation, Flint glanced at me. “Identity. Occupation. Some victimology. Cause of death.”

“Do we?”

“We know what the authorities released.” Then he added, “And what you could confirm and verify.”

“That’s not what I mean.”