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So, now it is truly upon her.

Just days ago this was a series of odd notes.

Now it is a bewildering, unspecified threat.

Who is it?

Or better phrased: who am I ?

Am I the ambitious young partner at her firm? Or the person who loves her, but resents the way she tossed him aside all those years ago. The person who married someone who looked like her twin. The person with enough access to her personal information to do this.

The person whose arrival in Barrow closely preceded these events.

She doesn’t know, but she is sure I am one of the two, so she is asking why. She thinks that will reveal the answer.

But she is not thinking about this in the right way at all.

How could she? The reason why this is happening is beyond her comprehension, because what she does not understand is that the object of this is not to destroy her.

She will be destroyed, utterly, and completely, but that is not the object, and while she thinks it is she will miss what is truly happening.

And that will make it impossible for her to stop it.

A Look of Triumph

Mary woke early, after another night of fitful sleep. She had told Ryan what she had seen and he had searched the back yard, but there was no one there.

But she knew that already. Whoever it was had been waiting for her to notice them. That was all they wanted.

For her to know they were there.

But who was it? She thought the silhouette was familiar, but in the dark and at that distance it was hard to be sure. Dylan? Carl? Trent?

It could be any of them. They all had the means and the opportunity, and they all had – in some way – a possible reason. Dylan could be motivated by revenge, Carl by unrequited love and Trent – well, he was a mystery.

None felt like enough. Whereas Ben Cox had all the motivation in the world.

Mary went into the office early, glad of a place to escape to. She had hardly sat down at her desk, when there was a knock on the half-open door and Ben’s head appeared.

‘I think we need to talk,’ he said.

‘Again?’ She pointed to a chair. ‘Take a seat.’

He came in and sat opposite her.

She held his gaze, the silence stretching between them. If he had something to say, then he could say it. She had no intention of starting the conversation.

‘So,’ he said eventually.

She didn’t reply.

‘You don’t have anything on your mind?’ he said.

‘Plenty.’

He nodded.

‘I thought as much. It’s obvious you’ve been a bit preoccupied.’