Outside in the square, a pair of yellow eyes had watched as each light was successively extinguished, had seen her slim silhouette through the window retreating against a paler light source coming from the rear of the flat. A chubby hand pulled a cell phone from the inside pocket of an immaculate navy silk suit jacket, and in darkness texted a message, observing the hour and the unexceptional event. Then, without a hint of fatigue, the eyes returned to their original post, and settled to watch the location fixedly again.

25

AS HE INSERTED THE KEY INTO THE DOOR OF HIS BASEMENT ENTRANCE, Alex noticed a delicate spiderweb spanning the frame, its dewy threads glinting in the sunlight. It seemed he’d been away weeks rather than days. On the doormat he found the early post, but barely glanced at it as he passed through to the bedroom for a change of shirt and a tie. He consulted his watch: eight-fifteen; he’d be at the hospital by half-past.

He’d left Lucy sleeping in Will’s bed, where she’d instinctively retreated while he was showing Grace and Simon to their room near midnight. He’d found her there, already dozing. It was an odd prospect—sleeping in the room that had been his brother’s for thirty-two years; but he didn’t want to leave her and go to his own bed. So he’d slipped silently beside her and enclosed her in his arms, his own thoughts pressing quietly into the spirit of the space. They were still in that same position when his watch buzzed their wake-up call. She turned and smiled to meet his kiss, then informed him that she wanted to stay for the day to do the developing. She’d cleared it with Henry, and he would drop her at the station when he returned from work. She would appear at her office the next day instead. Alex hadn’t objected, kissed her, and left with Simon and Grace.

He bounded up the spiral steps to the kitchen when his cell phone rang.

“Ti amo, Alessandro.”

“You too. I’ll call later today. Eat some breakfast.”

He smiled lopsidedly and hung up, gathering his briefcase from the island as an envelope caught his eye. Hand-delivered and wax-sealed. Siân had propped it there for his attention. He examined the writing, noted its weight. He took a deep breath, carefully broke the red bloodspot, and peered in. It contained a blank piece of heavy paper and a metal object he now shook from it. His brow furrowed. It was Lucy’s broken chain with the pearl-inset replica key he’d commissioned for her birthday. Had Calvin retrieved it? He hoped so, but somehow doubted it.

He pulled on his overcoat and pocketed the envelope, dialing a number as he headed for the door. He was crossing Kings Road as it redirected and Siân answered.