6

Meredith woke with a crick in her neck, not sure where she was. Then she remembered. The cottage was quiet. Maybe Jeremiah was still asleep. She hadn’t heard him come in, but then she didn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well.

Her clothes lay folded on the coffee table, so she knew he’d come in at some point overnight.

Standing, she stretched, grabbed her clothes, and padded down the hallway to the bathroom. The bedroom door was ajar and she caught a glimpse of Jeremiah sitting on the bed, eyes wide and staring across at the wall. His Bible lay on his lap. She wondered if she should knock; make sure he was all right because he looked awful, as if he hadn’t slept at all. But he then slid off the bed onto his knees and closed his eyes.

Not wanting to disturb him, Meredith headed to the bathroom. Once dressed, she went to the kitchen and filled up the kettle with the water from the filter jug.

She took jug to the sink to refill it. Glancing out of the window, she caught a glimpse of silvery blue eyes watching her from the forest. She shivered. For once, she hadn’t dreamt about them, yet still they seemed to follow her. She looked again, but they’d gone.

A car pulled up outside. Two men in forestry uniforms climbed out and made their way around to the office at the side of the building. That was the only part of the cottage Jeremiah hadn’t shown her the previous evening, even though he’d pointed out the door.

The kettle boiled and she made tea for herself and a large carafe of coffee. She put it and three cups on a tray, along with milk and sugar and carried it to the office.

Jeremiah’s voice came from behind the door, his finger tapping on something. “Terry and I were here when we were attacked. I got back from the hospital about three this morning. He’s hurt, but the surgeon thinks he’ll make a full recovery. I’m still waiting on the vet’s report.”

“I have that here.” Paper thudded onto the desk.

“You have to get rid of her. If the press gets wind of this…with her here you know what will happen.” Another voice Meredith didn’t recognize chimed in.

Did he mean her?

“And send her where? I can’t exactly put her back on the next train to London. It’s Christmas.” Jeremiah asked. “Anyway, the danger is past now.”

Yes, they were talking about her.

“Don’t be so sure. The one you killed yesterday was a young male. The vet thinks it’s probably around four months old. That means the pack isn’t far away.”

Meredith knocked on the door, uncomfortable with what she was hearing.

Jeremiah pulled open the door a little bit. “Meredith…”

She smiled. “Morning. I made you some—” She broke off as the tray was taken from her hands. “—coffee,” she finished.

“Thank you. We have a, um, situation. I’ll be out in a bit.” He closed the door.

The voices continued, but now too low for her to overhear. She headed back to the lounge and tidied up. She could get back to the boarding house on her own. She couldn’t stay where she was unwelcome, no matter what was said the previous night. Christmas alone in a London hotel suddenly seemed very appealing.

She plumped down on the sofa and grabbed the A-Z of Paradise to check the maps for directions from the boarding house to the station. As she settled back to glance through, church bells began to ring urgently. Even though it wasn’t Sunday, and definitely not a call to worship, the sound penetrated into the forest.

Clang, clang, clang…

The sound gave her goose bumps and made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Music echoed in the back of her mind.

Jeremiah rushed in. “I have to go.”

“What’s going on?”

“No time to explain. Stay here. I’ll lock up, but don’t open the door to anyone.” He caressed the side of her face and kissed her forehead.

“OK, but why?”

“Just promise me you’ll stay here where it’s safe.”

“OK.” She leaned back as Jeremiah ran from the room.

The men ran from the building and jumped into Jeremiah’s truck with the dog. All of them were armed.

Meredith headed down the corridor to the office. She tried the handle. The door swung open. Maps covered the walls, radios and lots of electrical equipment cluttered the desk. A computer hummed quietly, with a chair in front of it, Jeremiah’s cardigan slung over the back.

One of the maps was surrounded by photos, pins, and red string. She crossed over to it, recognizing some of the photos. Her grandparents’ house, the ranger station, and another cottage that looked vaguely familiar. It had flowers covering a trellis arch over the door. Maybe she passed it whilst walking.

Sitting in the computer chair, she began to read the newspaper clippings in an open file on the desk. Some of the cuttings were just local news, town shows. There were sporadic reports of animal attacks, rumors of a beast in the woods. She turned a page, swinging the chair away from the desk. There was a photo of that cottage again.

Voices echoed in her mind. She closed her eyes. She could see the cottage and a small child playing outside as if she were there. Laughter, long hair flying, flowers in a meadow or garden. A bell ringing…

Something clattered to her left and her eyes sprang open.

Wolfe stood in front of her.

She jumped in fright, the file falling to the floor, spilling its contents everywhere.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you. “ He bent to help her pick up the pieces of paper. ”I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I heard the bells as I passed through the forest.”

“I’m fine,” she managed, her heart rate slowing. She shoved the papers into the folder, hoping the order didn’t matter too much. “How…how did you get in?”

“The side door was unlocked. A little careless of Jeremiah, I must admit.” His blue eyes with silvery flecks glinted, mesmerizing her.

“He said he’d lock up on his way out.”

Wolfe tilted his head. “Well, that’s Jeremiah for you; says one thing, does another.” He studied one of the photos before handing her a pile of papers. “That’s all of them.”

“Thank you.” She narrowed her eyes, getting to her feet, the file clasped tightly in her hand. “How did you know I was here?”

“I know the forest,” he said, the smile unnerving her. “Besides with the travel ban last night there was no way anyone could go anywhere.”

Meredith stood, anxious to get rid of the man. “Well, as you can see, I’m fine. Thank you for stopping by. I don’t want to keep you.”

He turned to go, and then stopped. He lifted a battered violin case. “I play, like you. Your father used to play the violin, do you remember?”

“Did you know my parents?”

“I did.” Wolfe’s smile grew. “Your father was almost as good as you. Of course, he never played professionally. What did the LSO want? Did they write to ask you back?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to…” She broke off, music playing in her head. She could see a fire, a tree, a tall, blond man playing carols in the darkened, candlelit room.

“You should play professionally again. Talent like yours shouldn’t be wasted.”

“I haven’t played in a while.” She wrapped her arms around her middle.

“Play for me.” He offered her the case.

She shook her head. “No, I’d like you to leave. I appreciate you stopping by to check on me, but Jeremiah should be back soon, and I have things to do.”

“Where will you be staying for Christmas? Here or with your grandparents?” His eyes flickered as the light caught them, undisguised interest amidst the blue and silver.

Meredith did a double take. This man knew way too much about her. “I don’t want to be rude, but that’s none of your business. You came to see how I was. You’ve done that. I’d like you to leave now. Please, don’t make me ask again.”

Wolfe nodded. “I’ll leave my violin. I want you to play it, Meredith.” He inclined his head. “Until we meet again.”

Meredith followed him through the office, to the side door and bolted it top and bottom behind him. She shoved a chair in front of it, and then locked the internal door just to be on the safe side. She blocked that with a chair as well, before checking the other doors. Satisfied she was now locked in, she returned to the lounge taking the file of clippings with her.

Footsteps crunched outside and she jumped and glanced at the window. Only when the retreating figure vanished from sight did she let go of the breath she was holding.

She opened the file again. A newspaper cutting lay on the top. The photo of a family, the cottage, and the huge title Mutilated and murdered in their own home filled her vision.

Meredith gasped, shock striking her with the force of a thunderbolt. That was her, staring out of the photo. She’d have been about seven. But she wasn’t dead, nor was Annabelle. They were both very much alive.

Her fingers traced the faces in the black and white photo. Though she hadn’t seen her parents in years she recognized them. “Mum, Dad, me, Annabelle, Baby Gretchen.”

Her finger paused over the face of the fourth child—a tall boy, with dark, shaggy hair. Who was he and why didn’t she remember him?