There are seven crows outside my window. (That I can see, anyway.)
'A secret that cannot be told', from that old magpie rhyme.
Appropriate, given what I've found out from Dea's notebook. That would be nothing, by the way.
Most of her handwriting is illegible, or covered by drawings, or nonsense. What is readable and coherent enough to parse makes no sense.
...maybe she didn't intend for me to understand it.
I hope she did.