“No,” Angus said absently from his position on the sofa.

Brigid looked up from across the table. “Hey. I thought I should be bait because I’m probably the easiest to get to.”

Angus nodded, again not looking up from his file folder. “Good analysis. I figured the same thing.”

Raider’s head shot up from the adjoining chair. “You think Brigid should be bait for a serial killer?”

“Hell no,” Angus said, finally lifting his gaze. “Not in a million. After you do a quick dive to investigate the HDD agents we’ve worked with to see if there’s anybody who had a chance to leak information to Lassiter, I think you should take a leave of absence or something and put yourself completely under the radar. Even though HDD is secure, you have to go to and from, and it’s not worth the risk.” He bumped knuckles with Raider.

Nari snuck Roscoe a piece of a bacon roll as Kat licked her ear from his perch on her shoulder. She patted his head. “I missed you too, sweetie.” He meowed softly.

Wolfe came in from the other room. “Kat’s in a good mood lately because it’s cold outside and I have to wear jackets. Still fits in the side pockets and roots around for old Goldfish Crackers from last year.”

Jethro finished typing on his laptop next to Brigid. “I’m ready to discuss the quoted passages in the newest notes.”

Nari sipped her mimosa. “They sounded similar to the other ones.”

The Brit pushed back his chair from the table. “They’re different. All of Lassiter’s previous passages, even the ones from years ago, dealt with death in one form or another. Self-delusional narcissistic mentions of death, dying, and being the bringer of the end.”

“What a nutjob,” Dana muttered, next to Angus on the sofa.

Malcolm leaned against the counter and kept filching cookies as Pippa set them to cool on a mat. “What’s different about these?”

Jethro’s brows lowered. “The first is from a text written by a wronged lover—guy by the name of Georges Rermante. ‘There once was a starry night upon which the darkness of lovers fell.’” Jethro shook his head. “There isn’t much about him except that he was torn between duty and love, and he chose duty at the end because of betrayal.”

Angus shook his head. “Why can’t Lassiter just come out and say what he wants to say?”

Jethro shrugged. “The next is from a poem by a master in chess in the nineteen hundreds. ‘On first glance, the game can only be played according to the limitations on each piece, unless you’re the master of the game.’”

Nari accepted a warm cookie from Pippa. “Sounds like he’s the master and it’s the same narcissistic theme.”