Page 59 of Chameleon Killer

“I didn’t say anything.” But then, I didn’t have to, did I?

“You were about to say Brewster.” Her disgruntled expression was a balm. He’d been way too close to her and far too interested in keeping me out. So, the idea she wanted nothing to do with him was no skin off my nose.

Except… “He has the files.”

“He also has boundary issues and a federal badge.”

Excuse me. “What did he do?”

“Leave it alone.”

“Mallory.”

“Flint.”

There were circumstances in which Mallory could be persuaded by reason. This wasn’t one of them. I leaned against the board. “You don’t have to trust him.”

“We have to trust whatever he gives us.” And whatever it was Brewster had done had cost him her trust.

“Then we verify it.”

“What if he asks why I want the files?”

“You’re a journalist. If he has to ask, he hasn’t been paying attention.”

She rolled her eyes.

I sighed. “Fine, then we just tell him. If you don’t want to, I’ll do it.”

“You’re going to tell him that we think the last two victims were killed by someone imitating the Auditor?” Challenge flashed in her eyes and I preferred that to the earlier distress.

“Yes.”

Making a face, she shook her head. “He’ll take the theory, bury us under security, and cut us out.”

“Probably.” I spread my hands. “But we’d be together, two against one.”

“Still no.” She folded her arms. The motion pulled the T-shirt tight across her chest before the fabric dropped loose again.

I redirected my attention to the board with the speed of a trained professional. “You have another route?” I asked.

“Medical examiners.”

“All of them?”

“Start local. Colin and Guy were both here.”

“Guy died after eleven days in intensive care.”

“Which means hospital records, surgical notes, toxicology, imaging, neurologic assessments.” She counted them off on her fingers. “More documentation, not less.”

“Protected documentation.” HIPPA laws existed. She knew that.

“Everything is protected until someone decides it isn’t.” The voice of an angel delivering the reasoning of the devil on my shoulder.

I studied her. “The voice sounds like you, but the reasoning sounds alarmingly like me.”

“I’m wearing your shirt. Maybe it’s contagious.”