Page 283 of Chameleon Killer

I closed my eyes.

Of course he was.

“Ma'am?”

I tightened my grip on the receiver.

“I'm here.”

“Are you safe?”

I looked at Elliot Brewster.

At the abandoned gun.

At the open warehouse door.

Then toward the darkness beyond it.

I didn't know.

Maybe I never would.

But I knew one thing.

“I need an ambulance,” I said. “And I need someone to tell me which hospital has Flint Carter.”

The dispatcher kept talking. Sirens drew closer.

I turned away from Brewster to look at the open door. Then I moved to place Brewster’s gun on the ground.

One dead man.

Two guns.

One open door.

I looked at it for another second. Then I turned away.

“Tell me where Flint is.”

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

MALLORY

Six months later

Flint still hated the whiteboard. This one was bigger. “You realize,” he said from behind me, “most people use walls for art.”

“I have art.”

“You have a photograph of a city comptroller accepting an envelope in the parking garage of a steakhouse.”

I looked at the photograph in question. “It’s nicely framed.”

“It’s evidence.”