Page 169 of Chameleon Killer

“Up here.” I leaned into Flint when his arm tightened around me. On the one hand, I’d rather stand on my own two feet, but on the other—well, on the other, I needed the support from him. Maybe more than he needed to give it.

“Where up here?” Impatience licked each word and the aggravation wound even tighter through the FBI agent. The vein throbbing in his forehead suggested that he was well and truly angry with me.

I pointed through the open door. “Office at the end of the hall.”

He looked past me. “Foster.”

“Already clearing it.”

Brewster returned his attention to me. “Did you see him leave?”

“I never saw him arrive.” Then because I wanted to be clear, I added, “I never saw him at all.”

That stopped him. Flint too.

“What does that mean?” Brewster asked.

“It means exactly what I said.” I wasn’t sure I could put it in plainer words.

“Were you alone?” He demanded.

“Yes.”

“With the Auditor.” Was he trying to trip me up?

“No.”

His eyes narrowed.

I rubbed at the ache beginning at my temples. “Physically, I was alone.”

Disbelief coupled with suspicion in Brewster’s eyes. “How did you communicate?”

“Via computer.”

“A video call?” The questions were fired almost on top of my answers.

“No.”

“Audio?”

“Also no.”

Flint went very still beside me.

I noticed because Flint rarely went completely still unless something had captured every bit of his attention.

Brewster didn't react at all. Wasn’t that even more interesting?

“Explain.” Brewster was turning ever more imperious in this interrogation.

“Text.”

His stare stayed fixed on me. “Only text?”

“Yes.” Was he hoping that I’d make a mistake? It irked, but I allowed him his impatience. I had cut him out of this.

Behind Brewster, the agents glanced toward another. It was a small, possibly meaningless movement. Except Flint noticed it as well. Because he swept them with a look and asked, “What?”