“You did ask—but the police wouldn’t take you seriously. I do. For a reason you don’t care to elaborate on, you’ve been able to spot a pattern no one else has seen. I heard you explain it to Sylvie. She’s too cynical about the lunatics in New Orleans to bite. But I’m desperate and open to crazy theories. Plus, I don’t think you’re making this up.” He straightened his arm to cover her hand on the wood, and then he asked, “Do you know the killer?”

“Of course not!” She lost her footing as the accusation jolted her. Nathan.

In a single, smooth motion, Gabriel steadied her on the stair. Then he lifted his hands in apology. “Sorry. You seem so certain someone is killing folks, I had to ask.”

“I could learn to hate you.”

Grinning at the straightforward announcement, Gabriel stepped down onto the landing. “You have only yourself to blame, Doctor.” When she looked confused, he explained, “Your visit to the police station. Criminals like to confess in order to clear their consciences. Maybe one of your students told you he was a budding psychopath.”

“I went to the police because I wanted to help. Not to be laughed at by Detective Iberville or hounded by you.” She left no doubt as to which outcome irritated her more.

She mounted the stairs with speed, having hiked her narrow skirt up to her knees. From his vantage point, he admired the curve of subtly muscled calves. What else, he wondered heatedly, was Erin hiding?

The mystery tugged at him, and each encounter added a new layer. Like how a prim professor had learned to pick locks. Or why she had been chosen to find a killer. Any answers, he would have to discover on his own. He was looking forward to the search.

He’d learned one thing already. Erin had a prickly conscience, one that wouldn’t permit injustice but allowed for breaking and entering. The malleable code intrigued him, but not as much as the story it would uncover.

At the landing, an unaware Erin glanced down the hallway. To her left, stairs led up to the third floor. Four doors were arrayed on the second floor, two along the opposite wall and a third on the other side of the stairs. The fourth door stood ajar at the far end, and she glimpsed the corner of a bed in the center. She didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, but the master bedroom seemed like a good place to start. If she didn’t find anything of interest, she’d move on. Going with her gut, she turned to the right.

Gabriel caught her arm to stop her. “What is the plan, exactly?”

“My plan”—she stressed the my—“is none of your business.” Erin dragged her arm free. “I didn’t ask you to come with me.”