‘It is seldom enough I am visited by anyone at all, let alone a personable young redcoat. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. Annabel had been here then. Those who lived outside the law might squabble among themselves, even unto death, Leonardo told her. Wood. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided.
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