Page 264 of Chameleon Killer

I tested my hands.

Free.

Feet.

Also free.

Phone?

Gone.

Well, yeah, that made sense. Leaving me my phone would have been too stupid to live territory. My watch remained on my wrist, but the face was dead.

I stared into the darkness and tried to reconstruct the last thing I remembered.

The conference room. Guy's medical records. The enhancement render finishing.

A name emerging from the indentations left behind on the specimen sheet.

E. BREWSTER.

Then—

The door opening. A voice behind me.

You really should have stopped, Mallory.

Elliot.

I remembered turning. I turned, right? I turned and then—nothing.

With care, I searched my forehead with my fingers. It was sticky and flaky. Blood.

Wonderful.

I breathed through the nausea and forced myself to think. Brewster had come into the conference room. He'd done something.

Hit me?

Drugged me?

Both?

I couldn't remember.

The car turned sharply enough to roll me against the side of the trunk.

I caught myself with one hand as my knee bounced off something hard.

“Asshole.”

No response. Probably for the best. Then another memory surfaced. Flint had gone upstairs. Executive meeting.

He'd argued about leaving me. I'd kissed him and told him to go. My stomach dropped.

Flint.

Had Elliot waited until Flint left?