Page 77 of Chameleon Killer

“Investigations evolve.” She raised her eyebrows. “Something I believe you are very well aware of.”

“Yes, usually when new information is uncovered or evidence is found.” I wouldn’t be dismissed so easily.

She tapped a nail once against her elbow. A single movement, almost a twitch without involuntary fidgeting. Yet, it stood out because she’d been so still.

“You’re assuming I received new information.” Not a denial though. She really was parsing the language with absolute care and it confirmed everything.

“I’m observing that your behavior changed.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Those aren’t the same thing.”

“No.” I leaned back slightly. “But you know that.”

She went utterly still once more. There were moments in an interview, when the witness or the subject surrendered their resistance to engage with the one asking the questions whether it was a reporter, an officer, or a prospective employer. Most people mistook that for cooperation.

Maybe one in five, it was, but for the majority, it was the moment that the subject had decided they could win the conversation they were in. Whatever shape “winning” took on for them.

“So you’re interviewing me.” Her attention had sharpened, but she wasn’t angry or upset. “Should I contact an attorney?”

Deciding to address the former comment rather than the latter question, I said, “this is a risk assessment, Mallory.”

Lips pursed, she narrowed her eyes. “Of me? Really, Agent Brewster?”

The use of my title and surname put more distance between us. But I wasn’t going to allow her that. “I know he’s reached out to you. He treasures his access to you.”

“And you determined he has access because I asked a different question?”

“I determined someone redirected your attention.”

“Maybe I’m good at my job.” She threw that challenge down like a glove tossed for a duel.

“You are.” I didn’t even hesitate. Mallory McBryan was a professional and brilliant.

Something flickered across her face. She had expected resistance.

“You are exceptionally good at your job,” I continued. “Which is why an unexplained pivot matters.”

“Unexplained according to you.”

“Yes.”

Her mouth curved, but there was no humor in it. “That seems to be the real problem.”

I let the remark pass. She wanted me to defend my motives instead of examining hers. “Did he call you?”

She looked past me through the glass wall.

Flint had crossed the newsroom and disappeared toward the control room exactly as promised. Mallory watched the empty space he’d left behind for less than a second.

Then she returned her attention to me.

“What happens if I say yes?”

It wasn’t a confirmation. But close enough that every instinct I possessed zeroed in. “We determine when, how, and whether the contact can be traced.”

Unmoved, she raised her eyebrows. “And then?”

“We assess what information he gave you.”