I showed Adrian the message at two forty-seven AM.
He was still on the phone with Reyes, coordinating Price's protective pickup, when I crossed the room and held my screen up in front of him. He read it mid-sentence.
His voice didn't waver; he finished the operational point he was making to Reyes, confirmed two details about Price's location, and ended the call with the efficiency of someone who had just received significant information and was choosing not to let it show until he had privacy.
He lowered the phone.
Read the message again on my screen.
"His mother knows where," he said quietly.
"Yes."
He stood very still. Not the operational stillness of the other kind. The kind that came from somewhere in the interior.
"My mother has been careful about the subject of his final m
