“And she helped me understand what I became and how to build something new. But she didn’t know everything, did she?”

“What are you thinking, Erin?”

“Could it be him? Nathan? Are we sure he’s not back somehow?”

“You’ve been in New Orleans too long,” Sebastian scoffed. “He was gone when I got there. We both checked. I don’t know who’s doing this, but it’s not him.”

“Then someone else wants to scare me. Manipulate me.” She thought of the look of pity in Detective Iberville’s eyes. “But I won’t be a frightened, mute observer to the world spinning around me. In fact, I’m not going to wait for the police to believe me.”

Recognizing the tone from long ago, even if she did not, Sebastian protested, “Now, Erin. Wait a minute.”

“For what? For the police to listen to a ridiculous half-truth? They won’t.” Adrenaline sang in her veins, and she welcomed the new sensation that didn’t feel so new. Vaguely, she remembered being fearless once, before Nathan and Callenwolde University. “Maybe if I gather more evidence, they’ll have to believe me.”

“Or they’ll turn their investigation on you. It’s too big a risk.”

“Oh, I won’t do anything rash. I am trained in this area.”

“You’re an academic, not a sleuth.”

“I’m a criminal psychologist. Emphasis on the criminal. I’ll just go by the crime scenes. Check their backgrounds. Draw up a profile of their attacker. Easy, nonthreatening stuff.”

“This is what he wants. It’s very threatening,” Sebastian growled. “Whoever is after you isn’t playing a game, Erin. He’s already killed seven people, and I doubt they were his first time at bat. I won’t let you risk your life to atone for doing what you had to do.”

“How do you plan to stop me?”

“You’re coming to New York.”

“Are you there?”

“That’s irrelevant. I’ll let my doorman know to expect you tomorrow night.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I am the resident expert on language and lunatics.”

“Cute.”

To mollify him, she soothed, “Don’t worry. I’m still me. I won’t get into any trouble. I promise. But I need to do something. I have to.”

Static crackled for a moment, and then a harried sigh stretched across the wires. Erin echoed the sentiment, albeit silently.

“If you don’t call me by Sunday, I’m coming to find you,” said Sebastian. “After twenty-seven years of friendship, you know I don’t make idle threats.”

“I know. I still remember the telegraph you sent when I went off to Bilbao and didn’t write.”

“I will always find you, honey.”

“I love you, too.”

Sebastian harrumphed gently. “I didn’t say I love you.”

“But you do.”

“Always.”

“Bye, Sebastian.”

She hung up the phone and walked to the cheval mirror hanging near the entranceway. “Hello, Erin Abbott.”