“You let her go on air,” he said.
I didn’t correct the framing. “She went on air.”
His eyes sharpened. “You’re splitting hairs.”
“No,” I replied evenly. Like Mallory, he might need to vent some of his temper but one of us needed to remain rational. “Youare.”
Silence stretched. A vein throbbing in his forehead, Flint broke it first. “You’re not herhandler.”
“No.” Maintaining a mild tone helped present my neutrality in the situation.
“You’re not hereditor.”
An amusing distinction. I let it go. “Also correct.”
“And, cards on the table,” Flint said as his eyes narrowed. “You’renot her boss.”
That one carried weight. I let it land, giving him the courtesy of delivering the blow. “If we’re discussing the facts, then we should remember that neither are you.”
That did it.
He pushed off the door. “That’s bullshit and you know it. I’m responsible for her safety.”
“You’re responsible for risk mitigation for the network and the news program,” I said, very well aware of his job as news director. “Those aren’t the same thing.”
“She’s under threat.”
“She’s also in protective custody.” Maintaining detachment here was key. Flint’s knuckles whitened each time he curled his fingers. The vein in his forehead continued to throb. His nostrils flared.
He was angry. It wouldn’t take much to push him.
Flint’s jaw worked. “You’re enjoying this.” He almost spit the words out like he couldn’t quite veil his disdain.
I met the searing anger in his gaze. Held it. One beat. Two beats. Not rushing. Notreacting. “No.”
He released a scoff of absolute disgust. “Who are you lying to, Brewster? Because you aren’t fooling me.”
“I don’t see where this discussion is going to work out for either of us,” I said, not abandoning the mild tone. I could play this another way, but right now, de-escalation seemed to offer the better of two possible outcomes.
“You want to keep playing just the investigator card and a lack of skin in the game for Mal, you go right ahead. Pretty sure you’re not fooling her any more than you are me. But this bullshit tonight—you dangled her out there like bait.”
“A bit hyperbolic, don’t you think?” I said, folding my arms now and leaning back against the desk. Not answering his aggression with any of my own. “She knows the subject of her story very well, she’s also intimately—” Yes, I could have chosen a different word, I didn’t. Redirecting Carter’s attention was necessary, “—aware of the unsub’s attention.”
“You taking advantage of that fact to engage him isn’t hyperbolic.”
I shrugged. “She saw an opening. She also has good instincts or none of us would be here right now.”
“You’re a prick, Brewster. You’re also working really hard to prove that bullshit line and it’s not working.”
“It’s not bullshit.”
“Right. You could have stopped her. You could have made her wait. You could have workshopped what she said and how she said it with me and others from the network to maximize impact while alsoprotectingher.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “I could have.”
"Instead, you merrily grabbed her hand and skipped off to the station without anyone else being aware.”
“We drove,” I corrected, and he rewarded me with a thin-lipped smile. “But also, yes.”
