Page 75 of Chameleon Killer

Since we were just acknowledging the facts we had, I continued, “My calls weren’t returned.”

Flint glanced toward Mallory. “I imagine there was a reason.”

Amusingly, he wasn’t answering for her so much as reminding me that she didn’t require anyone’s permission whether she had to answer or not.

“I'd prefer to discuss it with her.” I met Flint’s gaze.

One corner of his mouth quirked upward into an almost, but not quite, mocking smile. “You are.”

Well played.

“No,” I said evenly. “I'd prefer to speak with her privately.”

“If that's what she wants,” he said with a hint of a shrug. That shrug tried to tell me he had no skin in the game, but the fact he painted himself in such a casual face told me the exact opposite.

Mallory folded her arms. “What did you need?” The huskiness underscoring the words served as a reminder that she was working and had been for hours.

“I'd rather not discuss an active federal investigation in the middle of your newsroom.”

She considered my objection, then nodded. “So we talk somewhere else.”

“Thank you,” I said, both to her acknowledgement and cooperation.

“I’ll make myself scarce.” Flint retrieved his coffee cup. Halfway to the door, he paused. “Unless Mallory would prefer I stay.”

Glancing from Flint to me, she didn't answer immediately. Until recently, I could have predicted her decision before she'd made it.

Journalists protected sources. Investigators protected information. Mallory had always occupied the narrow space between the two.

Not anymore.

The baseline I'd built over the past few weeks had begun to erode. That was the danger of behavioral analysis. While you might think a profiler could predict the future, they really can’t. They can only postulate on consistent behavior.

The moment a person’s priorities changed could reset the whole board. Had Mallory’s priorities shifted? Or was it mine that had?

The question lingered longer than I cared to admit.

“I think we should talk.” Mallory uncrossed her arms. Every unnecessary word she'd once used to soften conversations had vanished.

I found myself questioning whether she'd always spoken this economically or if I’d simply never noticed before.

“My office is empty.” Flint didn’t offer to solve the problem, he just removed an obstacle.

He wasn’t relinquishing or taking control. He simply refined the availability of options so that he could give Mallory the best of opportunities to choose from.

Oddly enough, Mallory seemed more willing to accept his help. Profiles became easier to build as choices narrowed. But now, Mallory’s choices were expanding, and that complicated my assessment.

I disliked uncertainty. Predators lived in uncertainty. So did people hunting them.

Mallory studied me for another beat, then glanced at Flint. “I’ll come find you when we’re done.”

Flint’s gaze remained on her for another second before he nodded. “I’ll be in the control room.”

Close enough to reach. Far enough not to intrude. The balance appeared effortless, which meant it probably wasn’t.

Mallory collected her phone from the conference table and slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans. She left the notebook where it was. No pen. No recorder.

Either she didn’t consider this an interview or she didn’t want me to know when it became one.