“A way to get to you,” Gabriel said flatly. Before she could lie to him again, fob him off with a nearly plausible explanation, he continued, “I don’t believe he picked you because of your training. With all the cops and profilers here in town, he has other options. But he picked you. The note was personal.”

“You think ‘find me’ is personal?” Erin scoffed. “I’d hate to get a love letter from you.”

Gabriel twisted to face her fully, irritation fighting with worry. “I’m not Sylvie, Erin. I can see you’re terrified. You know he’s baiting you, and you know why.” He lifted a hand in a plea. “If you don’t talk to me, I can’t help you.”

Erin struggled to her feet. She brushed against the banister and clamped onto the railing. “I didn’t ask for your help. I don’t need you.” The last came out breathless.

“You need someone.”

“No. I don’t.” She took a deep breath, calming herself. Letting him come inside with her had been a mistake. If the police wouldn’t help, she’d do this alone. “I can find the monster on my own.”

Emotion flickered in luminous brown, an edgy emotion he’d seen before but couldn’t quite place. The same emotion quavered in her smoky voice. He didn’t like it. “How? By poking through the victims’ closets?”

Erin pushed past him and walked to the front door. “I’ll find him by doing what I know how to do. Profiling.”

“You said you didn’t know what you were looking for.”

She paused in the doorway. “He does. Lock up on your way out.”

Gabriel followed her out of the house. “How will you get home?”

The same thought had occurred to her. A taxi would take nearly half an hour, and the bus would take longer. “I’ve made arrangements.”

With a snort of disbelief, Gabriel pointed to the neighborhood. “If there’s really a serial killer taunting you, should you be outside one of his hunting grounds alone?”

Erin gritted her teeth at the unassailable logic. “You may have a point. Will you drive me home?”

“Mais oui,” he replied as he steered her toward his car. Once she climbed inside, he slammed the black door with its deep gouges revealing gray primer. The force was necessary, both as a vent to his frustration and as a counter to the stubborn fifteen-year-old hinges that occasionally resisted the instruction to close. The buyout from Mirren and a modest inheritance certainly afforded him the luxury of reliable transportation, but Gabe had plowed every red cent back into the Ledger. “I know that had to hurt, didn’t it?”

Sulking, Erin refused to answer. Instead, she turned her face to the dirt-clouded window. “Car washes are legal in this state,” she said.