Page 78 of Chameleon Killer

“What makes you think he gave me any?” The lack of a flush didn’t betray her nor did the dark shadows beneath her eyes.

She’d betrayed herself earlier. So I told her how. “Because you’re protecting it.”

Her expression stilled. Too still. “You came here believing you already knew the answers.”

“I came here because you refused to take my calls.”

“No. You came here because you saw a change you couldn’t explain.”

Accurate. I disliked how quickly she arrived there, however. “I also wanted to talk to you.” The information was more than I should have given, but it was also not a lie.

The remark froze her place for a moment, undercutting her triumph.

She pushed away from the desk and straightened, but didn’t approach me. “Elliot.”

“Mallory.”

She sighed, and some of the sharpened distance in her expression eased. “You could have led with that.”

“I called.”

“Repeatedly.” Then she grimaced as if acknowledging that I had tried to reach her and she was the reason I’d had to come in person.

“You didn’t answer.”

“I noticed.” It came out a little grimmer than she probably intended, but I didn’t doubt that the echo of Flint’s earlier response was deliberate.

I let it pass and held my peace while she studied me. Then with effort, she blew out a breath and relaxed her stance once more so she could lean against the desk.

“What did you want to talk about?”

There were several possible answers. Her security. The calls. The Auditor’s need for continued access to her. The ease with which Carter had inserted himself into the investigation as well as taking over shadowing her.

All true. But not all the truth.

So I settled on, “You’re too close to him.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “That’s an interesting accusation coming from you.”

“It isn’t an accusation.” I relaxed my own posture and crossed one leg over the other. I’d ceded a lot of ground for her when I took a seat and I let her hold it.

“Then what do you call it?”

“A professional assessment.”

She snorted. “Of course it is.” The softness vanished from her voice.

I had restored the distance between us almost as quickly as I’d reduced it. Necessary. “You’re altering your investigative behavior in response to direct contact from an offender.”

“You still haven’t proven there was direct contact.” Her eyes flashed.

“You haven’t denied it.”

“I’ve yet to confirm it either.”

“Mallory.”

“Elliot.” The deliberate repetition should have irritated me.