The heavy iron gates were closed, guarded by two police vehicles parked across the entrance.

My phone vibrated again in my apron pocket.

I reached down and took it out, shielding the screen from the wind.

Another message had arrived from the same private number.

I tapped the screen to open it.

The message was a single image.

It was a photograph of the back of my head, taken from somewhere near the edge of the woods just beyond the stone fountain.

I turned my head quickly, looking out into the dark line of pine trees that bordered the estate.

The shadows were deep, moving only when the wind caught the branches.

But then I saw it.

A small, red light was blinking slowly from the brush near the eastern wall.

It was a camera lens.

Someone was watching us from the trees.

I reached out and grabbed Alexander’s sleeve.

“Sir,” I whispered.

He turned to look at me, his brow furrowing.

“What is it, Elena?”

Before I could speak, the red light in the trees went dark.