SUNSHINE FLOODED THE BREAKFAST TABLE. IT WAS SO COMFORTING, AND the presence of Alex and his family so strong, that Lucy had trouble connecting her immediate circumstances with the realities of last night. No one had said as much, but everyone realized the Lancia’s low-profile presence in Will’s photos suggested he’d been followed for some time—and although they had no way of knowing whether he had realized that, it might explain why he’d sent the documents away. Henry’s chilling description of the car blocking his exit at the hospital on that painful Sunday morning had prompted Alex to speak again of Melissa’s story, about a possible car engine near the bridge at the time of the accident. And was it connected with the break-in that night? They’d all retired to bed with things to think about—including Lucy’s extrication from the same vehicle near Chartres. But paradoxically, she had fallen into a blissful, undisturbed sleep broken only by the muted alarm and Alex’s early morning kiss. Nothing broke into her peace; she’d come home.

A show of normality continued in the face of threatened danger. She recognized Alex’s need to maintain a sense of calm control and not to escalate the tension. He had left cereal out for her; but Henry had made a point to give her his number in Winchester. “I’m in court this morning, Lucy, but don’t hesitate to let my secretary know if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll see you after five. There’s a train from Andover on the half-hour. I’ll be sorry to see you go. Come back with Alex and Max for Easter.” He pressed her hand and gave her a set of keys; then he was gone.

In an hour she had the printing process under way, selecting the negatives she wanted to enlarge. And by eleven o’clock her safelight was displaying the first run of prints. She had to adjust the focus a few times for the documents: but Will had done a brilliant job and the quality was excellent. She held her breath as she read the first words in the tray by the colored light. In a neat feminine hand—perhaps eighteenth century—she saw:

Lucy Locket lost her pocket…

And on the next:

Oh—But the king’s daughter is in danger of dropping a stitch. Losing the thread. Letting it go to her head.

On yet another:

TAURUS 4—THE RAINBOW’S POT OF GOLD.

And on one typed on a funny old typewriter:

The music died today.