“For a pro like Wayne Forbes? Oh, yes. The more I think about that suicide note, the more convinced I am it was written under duress.”

Lopez laid a hand on his arm. “You mean at gunpoint, don’t you?”

“Possibly,” Cohen said, exquisitely aware of her touch. “But however it happened, I think it would explain why Ellen left such a cryptic warning for Neil.”

Kilburn frowned. “What kind of warning is it when the recipient is oblivious to the message?”

“That’s tougher to explain.” Cohen’s gaze drifted to the window.

The taxi pulled up in front of their hotel. Cohen leaned forward in his seat to pay the driver while the other two got out. Climbing out of the cab, he noticed that Lopez had waited for him alone. “Where’s Graham?” he asked.

“He forgot his phone. He went ahead to the room to pick it up.” She tilted her head and smiled tentatively. “How are you, Seth?”

“Good. In fact, great.” He grinned back. “But I could’ve used a bit more sleep last night.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “And who’s fault is that?”

“I wouldn’t have traded a minute of our time for twelve more hours sleep.”

Her eyes shone. “Sergeant Cohen, you’re very sweet.”

Cohen’s cell phone rang. As he brought it to his ear, the voice of Lieutenant Franklin boomed so loudly that Cohen pulled the phone a few inches away from his head.

“Ed, what’s going on?”

“We just got a call from the state troopers in Brandywine Valley this morning,” Franklin said matter-of-factly. “A car crashed over an embankment and toppled down a hill near Concordville.”

“And?” Cohen asked, anticipating the worst.

“The car’s only occupant happens to work at SeptoMed,” Franklin said. “A scientist.”

Cohen gripped the phone tighter. “Not Neil Ryland?”

“That’s the guy,” Franklin said. “The one Ellen Horton’s note was addressed to.”

Lopez eyed Cohen intently. “Neil Ryland was in a car crash,” he said to her, cupping the phone. Then he removed his hand. “Ed, is Ryland dead?”

“No. Seems what they say about those Volvos is true.” Franklin chuckled. “The car dropped about thirty feet and flipped twice on the way, but Ryland survived. His arm is broken in a couple of places, and he’s pretty beaten up, but he’s awake and talking. I just saw him.”

“He’s alive,” Cohen mouthed to Lopez. “Ed, what did he tell you?”

“That someone in a silver SUV deliberately ran him off the side of the road,” Franklin said.

“Did you show him the sketch of Wayne Forbes we faxed you?”

“Ryland never got a look at the driver of the SUV.”

“Did he give you anything to go on?” Cohen asked.

“Not much. He’s still in shock. But he wants to talk to you.”

“To me?”

“Yup. Ryland mentioned you by name.”

“Where is he?” Cohen asked.