‘We’ll soon get to the bottom of it,’ he said, and tried to sound reassuring. ‘I promise you that.’

Her expression changed suddenly, as though a thought had crashed into her head.

‘Jesus Christ, James,’ she yelled. ‘What if it’s from him? What if the bastard has found us?’

CHAPTER FOUR

Annie’s reaction came as no surprise to James. Only three months had passed since the day Andrew Sullivan was released from prison and the brick was thrown through their living room window.

The move to Cumbria had made his wife feel safer, but the threat Sullivan posed still hung over their heads like a dark cloud.

James’s transfer to Kendal had been processed quickly and efficiently by the Met, and only a handful of senior officers had been made privy to why he’d requested it, to reduce the possibility that Sullivan would find out where he’d gone and pursue him.

James had hoped and prayed that the man would get on with his life and forget about seeking revenge for the time he’d spent behind bars. But if he was still determined to punish James, then he could probably use his crooked contacts in the Met to find out about their new home in Kirkby Abbey.

‘Don’t tell me it hasn’t already occurred to you that this could be down to Sullivan,’ Annie said. ‘It’s an easy way to wreck our Christmas and put the fear of God into us.’

‘Of course, it’s occurred to me,’ James said. ‘But there’s a risk of jumping to the wrong conclusion because of what’s happened in the past. I find it hard to believe that Sullivan would bother to put together something so weirdly elaborate when he doesn’t need to. It’s just not his MO, unlike the note that was attached to the brick and the threats he made to me before we collared him. It doesn’t ring true that he would talk about the twelve days of Christmas and tell me he’s about to embark on a killing spree just to seize my attention. And then there’s the partridge, which strikes me as the kind of theatrical gesture that wouldn’t occur to an oaf like Sullivan.’

Annie pushed her chair back and abruptly stood.

‘I need something stronger than hot chocolate,’ she said.

James watched her cross to the fridge and take out a bottle of white wine. Then it was to the cupboard for the glasses.

It gutted him to think that she had been hurled back onto the emotional rollercoaster. She’d had such a tough time over the past few years, starting with her inability to conceive, building with the threats from Sullivan and culminating with the brick through their window.

Since leaving London she’d been more like her old self – bubbly, confident and full of life. Physically, it was as though she’d had a makeover. She was still as gorgeous as she had always been, with those bright blue eyes, soft facial features and thick black hair that tumbled to her shoulders. But there was a glow about her now, and she appeared fitter and healthier after putting on the weight she’d lost through months of worrying. She was still slim and shapely, though, and she looked terrific in the tight brown sweater and denim jeans that clung to her frame.