Sebastian read over her shoulder, then looked at Erin for a sign of comprehension or a flicker of recognition. He saw nothing. “What do we do, Erin?”

Erin studied the line, but she’d already decoded the message. “Call Gabriel. Tell him the killer has already come and gone.”

WITH METICULOUS CARE, Erin packed a small leather suitcase, remembering the vagaries of Northern California weather. Particularly in the mountains, the wind could whip through layers of cloth like a lash. She swept the case and her bag off the comforter. The jeans she hadn’t worn in years fit snugly, and the fitted long-sleeved shirt would be layered by a sweatshirt when the temperature changed.

“I’m not going to fight with you about this.” Turning, she saw Gabriel and Sebastian arrayed in front of her door, blocking her only exit. “I have to finish it,” she said, echoing Gabriel’s instructions from the day before.

Gabriel advanced into the room, having been briefed by Sebastian. Erin had talked to Sylvie alone. Whatever she’d told her, the detective refused to remove the guards from the perimeter of the building, but Kenneth Bernard was almost in the clear. He’d deal with writing the retraction after the current crisis passed. Erin and Sylvie were planning a trip to California, straight into a trap. “How do you know he’s there?”

In answer, Erin handed him the slip of paper. Gabriel stared at the line of gibberish. He shot a look at Sebastian, who shook his head. He couldn’t read the damned thing, either.

Gabriel turned it upside down. “Is this in a foreign language?”

“A few of them.” Erin sat on the edge of her bed and beckoned them to come inside. They sat on either side, like schoolboys waiting for a lesson. Erin pointed to the script. “Give me a pen.”

Gabriel handed her one from his pocket.

“I have to go to California. These are his instructions.”

Sebastian looked dubious. “This nonsense makes sense to you?”

“Of course.” Taking the pen, she drew lines along the page.

san skari dau or thi phas cabes thai

“I don’t see it.” Sebastian stared at the page. “Wait. I see ‘San Cabes.’ That’s where the cabin is.”

Erin nodded. “Once I saw those words, the rest was simple. He didn’t spend much time on the threat.”

“Threat?” Gabriel read the paper again, annoyed that Sebastian had seen the words before he did. “What’s the threat?”

Erin drew links across three of the segments. “Skariphasthai is the Greek root for ‘scribe.’”

“Writer.” Gabriel paused. “Reporter.”

“And dauthi means ‘death’ in Norse.”

“What about the letters o and r?” Sebastian asked, eager to show Gabriel up again.

“You’re thinking too hard,” chided Erin. “‘Or’ is just the word or.”

At her side, Gabriel froze. His voice, when he spoke, was hard as iron. “The message says: ‘San Cabes or the reporter dies.’ You’re going to him.”