Sherlock read the note again. “For what you did you deserve this. Something you did specifically, Dillon, so it’s got to be a case you were personally involved with. There’s Lissy Smiley, for example-that was up close and personal. But it could take weeks to make sure there’s no one, absolutely no one, who would care enough about any of the dozens of perps we’ve brought down to do something this nuts.”

Dane Carver said, “I wonder what the threat is, exactly? For what you did you deserve this. What is this? Is he targeting someone specific?”

All eyes turned to Sherlock.

Sherlock splayed her hands in front of her. “It doesn’t have to be me. All right, all right, I’ll be really careful. We’ve got the guy on camera, we’ll get a good facial reconstruction. It’s our best lead.”

Savich saw everyone was looking at him now. He tried to keep his face blank, but it was hard. He realized he was clutching his pen too tightly. It was Sherlock, he simply knew the threat was directed at Sherlock. Who else? He wanted to say something, but nothing came out. He couldn’t stand himself. Get it together. He said, his voice sounding calm and in control, “If any of you come up with anything we haven’t mentioned, let me know. I’m going down to the security section, speak to Briggs and Brady. Sherlock, you and Dane start work on this.”

On the elevator ride to the mezzanine, Savich remembered the shoot-out in Mr. Patil’s Shop ’n Go in Georgetown. Was it only three weeks ago? The woman he’d had to shoot, her name was Elsa Heinz. Who else knew Savich had shot her? Everyone, of course. It was in the papers, his name included. Was someone who knew her out for revenge against him? A loved one for a loved one?

He put her out of his head. Threats were part of the job. Both he and Sherlock knew that. They and the CAU would deal with it.