XII

i

There was no magic in the descent: no sense of anticipation, no strengthening hand laid on Will’s nape to help him negotiate the snow-slickened rocks. Jacob had done all the touching he intended to do. Will was left to fend for himself, which meant that he fell repeatedly. Twice he slithered several yards on his rump, bruising and scraping himself on buried boulders as he tried to bring his careening to a halt. It was a cold, painful, and humiliating journey. He longed for it to be over quickly.

Halfway down the hill, however, his misery was made complete by the reappearance of Rosa McGee. She appeared out of the murk calling for Jacob, with sufficient alarm in her voice that Jacob told Will to wait while he spoke to her. Rosa was plainly agitated. Though Will could hear nothing of the exchange, he saw Jacob lay a reassuring hand on her, nodding and listening, then replying with his head close to hers. After perhaps a minute, he returned to Will and told him, “Rosa’s had a little trouble. We’re going to have to be careful.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask questions,” Jacob replied, “just take my word for it. Now,” he pointed down the hill, “we have to hurry.” Will did as he was told and headed on down the slope. He cast one backward glance at Rosa and saw that she’d squatted down on a flat-topped rock, from which she seemed to be staring back toward the Courthouse. Had she been ousted, he wondered?

Was that what all her distress was about? He would probably never know. More weary and dispirited by the stride, he continued his descent.

There was, he saw, a good deal of activity in the streets of the village: several cars with their headlights blazing, people gathered in groups here and there. The doors of many of the houses stood open, and people were standing on the steps in their nightclothes, watching events.

“What’s going on?” Will wondered aloud.

“Nothing we need concern ourselves with,” Jacob replied.

“They’re not looking for me, are they?”

“No, they’re not,” Jacob said.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Will said, the mystery of Rosa’s distress suddenly solved. “They’re after Rosa.”

“Yes, I’m afraid they are,” Jacob replied. “She’s got herself in some trouble. But she’s perfectly capable of looking after herself. Why don’t we just stop for a moment and examine our options?” Will duly stopped, and Jacob descended the slope a stride or two, until they stood just a couple of yards apart. It was the closest he’d been to Will since the wood. “Can you see where your friends live from here?”

“Yes.”

“Point it out to me, will you?”

“You see past where the police car’s parked, there’s a bend in the road?”

“I see.”

“There’s a street just round the bend, going left?”

“I see that, too.”

“That’s Samson Road,” Will said. “They live in the house with the junkyard beside it.”

Jacob was silent for a few seconds while he studied the lay of the land.

“I can get the book for you,” Will reminded him, just in case he was thinking of going on alone.

“I know,” Jacob said. “I’m relying on you. But I don’t think it’d be very wise for us to just walk through the middle of the village right now.”

“We can go around the back,” Will said. He pointed out a route that would take them another half-hour to complete but would keep them out of the way of witnesses.

“It seems the wisest option,” Jacob said. He teased off his right-hand glove, and reached into his coat to take out his knife.

“Don’t worry,” he said, catching Will’s anxious glance, “I won’t taint it with human blood unless it’s strictly necessary.” Will shuddered. An hour ago, climbing the hill with Jacob, he’d felt happier than he’d felt in his life before; the feel of that blade had made his palm tremble with pleasure, and the little deaths he’d caused filled him with pride. Now all that seemed like another world, another Will. He looked down at his hands.

He’d never finished scrubbing them clean, and even in the murk he could see that they were still stained with the bird’s blood. He felt a spasm of self-disgust, if he could have fled then and there, he might well have done so. But that would have left Jacob searching for the book on his own, and Will didn’t dare risk that—not while he was carrying that knife of his. Will knew from experience how self-possessed it could be, how eager to do harm.

Turning his back on man and knife, he resumed his descent, no longer heading directly into the village but around it, so as to bring them undiscovered to the Cunninghams’s doorstep.

ii

When Frannie woke, the clock beside the bed said five-twenty-five. She got up anyway, knowing that her father, who had always been an early riser, would also be up in the next fifteen minutes.

In fact, she found him in the kitchen, already fully dressed, pouring himself a cup of tea and smoking a cigarette. He gave her a grim little smile of welcome. “Something’s going on out there,” he said, spooning sugar into his tea. “I’m going out to see what’s happening.”

“Have some toast first,” she said. She didn’t wait for a reply.

She took a loaf out of the bread bin, then went to the drawer for the breadknife, then to the cooker to turn on the grill, and back to slice the bread—and all the time, toing and froing, she was thinking how strange it was to be pretending that there was nothing really different about the world this morning, when she knew in her heart that this wasn’t so.

It was her father who finally spoke, his back to her as he gazed out of the kitchen window. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Things going on these days . . .” he shook his head, “used to be safe for folks.”

Frannie had slid two slices of the thickly cut bread beneath the grill and, fetching her favorite mug out of the cupboard, poured herself some tea. Like her dad, she sugared it heavily.

They were the two sweet tooths in the family.

“It makes me scared for you, sometimes,” her father said, turning back to look at Frannie, “the way the world’s going.”

“I’ll be all right, Dad,” she said.

“I know you will,” he said, though his expression belied his words. “We’ll all be fine.” He opened his arms to her, and she went to him, hugging him hard. “Only you’ll see as you get older,” he said, “there’s more bad out there than good. That’s why you work hard to make a safe place for the people you love. Somewhere you can lock the door.” He rocked her in his embrace. “You’re my princess, you know that?”

“I know,” she said, smiling up at him.

A police car roared past, siren blaring. The happiness faded from George Cunningham’s face.

“I’ll butter us some toast,” Frannie said, patting his chest.

“That’ll make us feel better.” She pulled the slices out from under the grill and flipped them over. “You want some marmalade?”

“No thanks,” he said, watching her as she fussed around: to the fridge for some butter, then back to the cooker, where she picked up the hot toast and put it on a plate. Then she slathered on the butter, the way she knew he liked it.

“There,” she said, presenting him with the toast. He wolfed it down, murmuring his approval.

All she needed now was milk for her tea. The carton was empty, but the milkman might have arrived by now, so she padded through to the front door to fetch the delivery.

The front door had been bolted top and bottom, which was unusual. Plainly her parents had gone to bed nervous. Frannie reached up and unbolted the top then, stooping to unbolt the bottom, opened the door.

There was still no sign of the day, not a glimmer. It was going to be one of those winter days when light barely seemed to touch the world before it was gone again. The snow had stopped falling, however, and the street looked like a well-made bed in the lamplight—plump white pillows piled against walls and quilts laid on roofs and pavements. She found the sight comforting in its prettiness. It reminded her that Christmas would soon be here, and there’d be reasons for songs and laughter.

The step was empty; the milk was late being delivered today. Oh well, she thought, I’ll have to do without.

And then, the sound of feet crunching on snow. She looked up and saw somebody had appeared at the opposite side of the street. Whoever it was stood beyond the lamplight, but only for a few moments. Realizing he’d been seen, he stepped out of the gray gloom and into view. It was Will.