I look around. There’s no blood. No bodies. It looks like a normal beach hotel room.

“We’ve had a fiber team in here. Hotel rooms are always filled with fun surprises.” Chisholm points to a spot next to the telescope. “There was another tripod set up there. From the indentations in the carpet we can tell it was a video camera or a digital still camera with some big glass on it.”

“Why the telescope then?” It doesn’t look like a particularly expensive model. It probably doesn’t have anywhere near the image quality of the camera that was there. I walk over to the telescope and have a look. Our footprints in the sand are still visible. Out in the open, part of the show.

Chisholm looks out the slightly open window at the people passing on the sidewalk below us. I wonder for a moment what an experienced profiler like him sees when he people-watches. The thought makes me a little self-conscious. He turns to me, “We think it’s him telling us that he’s observing us. It’s aimed right where we were standing earlier today.”

A breeze blows through the window. The Warlock could have taken us out one by one with a high-power rifle from here if he really wanted to. I kneel down to look at the ledge.

Chisholm sees me looking for marks where a rifle may have rested. “We checked for that. No evidence that he placed a gun on there.”

I guess that’s reassuring. “So he’s not trying to tell us he can kill us?”

“Not exactly.” He draws the words out. This isn’t good.

Chisholm motions me over to look at the ceiling. He points to where a piece has been removed. “We found a slit about a half inch across. We cut it out of the ceiling and sent it to forensics. It was created by a knife with a curved blade. Probably a kris knife. Something with sacrificial implications. Inside the slit we found a sliver of glossy paper. He’d stabbed it to the ceiling while he was here. It was from a cover of a magazine . . .”

Chisholm’s voice trails off as he makes eye contact with me. I know where this is heading. I’m already shaking my head. My magazine. The one on Ailes’s desk. My cheesecake magician photo. The Warlock knows about me. He wants me to know that. He stood right where I’m standing now, watching me.

Chisholm continues. “Ailes told us where to match the paper right away. Everyone thought I shouldn’t bring you back here. But I wanted you to see this. I want you to know what we’re up against. I don’t think we should hide anything from you. I have to go to some pretty dark places to understand the people we deal with. I don’t think sparing you that is going to help you. You need to understand what he sees.”

I stare up at the place on the ceiling where he’d stabbed my magazine cover with a knife. I examine the floor. He must have lain there looking up at it. What was he thinking? Was it sexual? Was it just to throw me off?