I stepped closer. Not into her space. Just close enough that she had to recalibrate where I was. “I don’t want you talking about this publicly yet,” I said. “Not even in hypotheticals.”
Her eyebrow lifted. “That’s not your call.”
“No,” I agreed. “But itismy concern.”
She studied me for a beat, eyes sharp, searching for the angle. She always searched for the angle. That was the problem. That was the appeal.
“You think I’m going to spook him,” she said.
“I think you’re going to reward him.”
That had the effect I’d wanted.
Flint shifted. “Explain.”
Mallory didn’t answer him. Her focus stayed on me. “You just said he’s reacting to pressure. Now you’re saying—what? That acknowledgement feeds him?”
“I’m saying,” I replied, “that relevance is a currency. And he just told us he values it.”
She tilted her head. Evaluating. Not offended. Interested.
“So what,” she said. “We ignore him?”
“No.” I let the word sit. “We pace him.”
Her lips parted slightly. Not surprise. Recognition. “Like an interview,” she said.
“Yes.” The word came out quieter than I intended.
Flint frowned. “You’re talking about a killer.”
“I’m talking about a man who believes he’s in a conversation,” I said. “Conversations have rhythm.”
Mallory’s gaze didn’t waver. “And you think you can set it.”
“I think,” I said, “you already did.”
The silence that followed was different from before. Charged. Focused. The air felt tighter, like something had drawn a boundary none of us had named.
Mallory took a step closer. This time,intomy space.
“You’re saying I shouldn’t speak,” she said. “But you’re also saying I’m leverage.”
“I didn’t say leverage,” I replied evenly. “This time.”
She smiled. Slow. Knowing. “You didn’t have to.”
Flint cleared his throat. “I’m still here.”
Neither of us looked at him.
Mallory’s voice dropped, just a shade. “You’re very comfortable deciding how I’m used.”
“I’m comfortable deciding howriskis managed.” I held her gaze. Didn’t look away. Didn’t soften it.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No,” I agreed. “It’s worse.”
