Twelve
When the cold and my horror-filled thoughts got too much, I went back inside to the warmth. The chill passed but frenzied spasms of questions still stabbed through my mind.
Who? And why? Yes, why? Why had someone tried to kill me? Someone? But who? Who hated me enough to kill me?
Sofija and Kit were sitting at the table in the old kitchen, the only bit of Tregonna that the renovation hadn’t really touched. It had been rewired but that was all. Great gouges in the battered wallpaper traced the route of the new wiring but they’d been filled in clumsily, hastily, and never redecorated.
Was I safe? Would they try again? Why, though? Why?
Sofija leaped up and rushed towards me. I felt my arms twitch as though to ward her off but she didn’t notice as she flung her arms around my neck
