Page 270 of Chameleon Killer

A beat.

“Yes.”

“What did Guy know?”

“Not enough.”

“Not helpful.”

“He knew someone connected to the pattern. A name. Maybe an intermediary. I needed him lucid.” He grimaced. “If he’d just cooperated in the first place, I wouldn’t have needed to interrogate him.”

My stomach turned. “What did you give him?”

“It was controlled.”

“Elliot.” I gritted out his name. The excuses and deflections annoyed me.

“A stimulant.”

The word sat between us.

“You drugged an injured man.”

“He was slipping in and out.” A shrug. “He would have died anyway. I needed ten minutes. I needed what he knew.”

Brewster's expression tightened.

“If he’d only cooperated, none of that would have been necessary.” He gave me a pointed look.

I closed my eyes. There it was. Not I killed him. No, Guy hadn’t cooperated, Flint got in the way, I forced Elliot’s hand and what—Simon manipulated him?

Everyone else was apparently responsible for what Elliot Brewster chose to do.

I opened my eyes. “The toxicology would have shown it. So you removed it to prevent questions that you didn’t want to answer.”

Flint had been right. My throat tightened.

“What about Colin?”

Something changed. Not guilt. Calculation. My heart sank.

“Elliot…”

“We all make our own choices, Mallory. You made yours. Simon made his. You were beginning to trust him too much.”

Oh, fuck you.

“So you just killed him? You framed Simon for Colin’s death to make a point to me?”

“You wouldn't let it go.”

“And I never will.”

“I know.”

The answer was so quiet that every hair along my arms lifted. I looked at the gun again. Then at him.

“So now it’s my turn? That’s why you came for me? That’s why we’re here?”