“Huh?” I said, taken aback.
“I’ve spent most of the day with Chief Superintendent Wesley Yarborough at Scotland Yard,” Bill explained. “He agrees that we should take the threats seriously. In fact, he was rather annoyed with me for not bringing them to the Yard’s attention sooner.” Bill sighed. “Yarborough intends to search my work files for clues to Abaddon’s identity, and I have to stay in London, to help with the investigation. While I’m there, the chief superintendent and I want you and the boys to be far away from here.You’ll leave the cottage tomorrow morning and stay in a safe place until all of this is cleared up.”
“We’re safe here,” I pointed out. “As soon as the villagers find out what’s going on, they’ll close in around us like a brick wall. If a stranger shows his face in Finch, they’ll sound the alarm. All we have to do is put the word out and Abaddon’s as good as caught.”
“What if Abaddon doesn’t come through the village?” Bill countered. “What if he comes over the hills or through the woods?”
“How would he know where to find us?” I asked.
“Lori,” Bill said softly, “he’s already found us.”
Time seemed to stop. My mind went blank. Although Bill had spoken quietly, his words seemed to echo through the room. He reached once more into his briefcase and handed me a sheaf of papers. As I leafed through them, my hands began to tremble.
They were photographs, electronically transmitted digital images of the apple tree in our back garden, the rose trellis framing our front door, the beech hedge flanking our graveled drive. That the pictures had been taken with some sort of telephoto lens afforded me no comfort at all. The images were far too personal. There was one of me, sitting on the bamboo chaise longue beneath the apple tree, and one of Annelise, standing in the doorway of the solarium, but the final image was the most terrifying of all.
“The twins,” I whispered. “Will and Rob, on their ponies . . .”
Bill moved from his chair to the ottoman and slid the photographs from my unresisting grasp. He dropped them onto the floor and took my hands in his.
“The photographs came this morning, with the message you’ve just read,” he said. “As soon as they arrived, I sent a security team up from London, to keep an eye on you and the boys while I met with the chief superintendent.”
“I haven’t seen anyone,” I said.
“I told them to keep a low profile,” said Bill. “I wanted them to stay in the background until I had a chance to tell you what was happening. They’ve been patrolling the woods, the hills, the lane.They’ll live here, in the cottage, while we’re gone, to make sure nothing happens to it.”
“‘All that you love will perish,’” I repeated numbly. “I suppose that includes the cottage.”
“We can’t afford to interpret it in any other way,” said Bill.
“Where do you want us to go?” I asked.
“Boston,” he said promptly. “You can stay with my father.”
“Boston?” I exclaimed, recoiling. “Are you crazy? You know how much I love your father, Bill, but I am not going to Boston. There’d be a whole ocean between us, and the Concorde’s not flying anymore. If something happened to you, it’d take me forever to get back.”
Bill managed a weary smile. “It was worth a try. But I knew you’d hate the idea of going to Boston, so I’ve come up with another plan, one that’ll keep you on this side of the Atlantic.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“I’m not going to tell you,” he replied, and when I opened my mouth to protest, he cut me off. “I’m sorry, Lori, but you’re a chatterbox. One slip of your tongue and the news would be all over Finch in five minutes. Our neighbors may be well intentioned, but they’re addicted to gossip. A casual conversation in the tearoom or the pub would lead Abaddon straight to you. The fewer people who know where you and the boys are, the safer you’ll be, so for now I’m keeping your destination to myself.You’ll have to trust me on this, love.”
Bill gripped my hands more firmly, as if bracing himself for a wave of entirely justified wifely hysterics, but I didn’t feel hysterical. I felt cold and still and extremely focused. My husband had shouldered an unimaginably heavy burden. I had no intention of adding to it.
“Right,” I said, and got to my feet.
“Where are you going?” Bill asked.
“To pack.”
Two