Page 27 of When You're Lost
Gently, he wrapped an arm around her, feeling the tension in her frame.She stiffened a moment, then exhaled, letting the closeness settle her.“You think it was a message?”he prompted.
She tilted her head back, eyes shadowed by the candlelight.“Yes.He’s always about messaging.But I don’t know what it means yet—whether it’s a direct warning or some personal revenge play.Until we identify the woman, we can’t decode the significance.But with Wendell, there’s always significance.Always a purpose, even if it’s warped beyond reason.”
Finn stroked a hand over her cheek, brushing aside a stray strand of hair.Her skin felt cool under his fingers, but she leaned into the contact.“I know how you feel,” he murmured.“It’s so… senseless, the brutality of it.”
A small shudder went through her.“I try to keep it professional, to push aside the emotions, but there are days—like today—when it’s almost too much.”
He slid his other arm around her, hugging her gently.“It’s okay to feel it,” he said quietly.“You’re not a machine.You witness these horrors up close—of course it hurts.”
She closed her eyes, tears threatening to slip free.“I don’t want to break,” she whispered.“But sometimes I’m so scared… that if I don’t stop him, he’ll keep doing this, and it’ll get more personal.Maybe I’m already too involved.”
Finn pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, letting the warmth linger.His hand caressed her face, comforting her.“It’ll be all right.You’re strong, Amelia, and you have the entire task force.You have me, too—even if they won’t let me on the official detail.”
She gave a brittle laugh.“Speaking of that, the lead on the task force would drop me in a heartbeat if he could.He hates that I have a personal vendetta against Wendell.Thinks it makes me emotional.But it’s exactly that personal knowledge that might help us catch him.”
Finn pulled back a fraction, meeting her gaze.“And he doesn’t want more help from me?”
Her lips turned down.“No.He basically told me he wanted minimal outsiders.I wish you were there, though.I’d feel safer.”
A pang stirred in Finn’s chest.“I’m worried about you, too.Not being at your side… it drives me crazy.And with Wendell’s unpredictability, I’d rather I was there if he decides to target you.”
She squeezed his hand, gratitude shining in her eyes.“I wish you could be, but I’ll watch my back.I promise.”
For a moment, they let the hush envelop them, the candle flames flickering in the still air.Then Amelia cleared her throat, obviously trying to shift gears.“Anyway.Enough gloom, right?Tell me about your case.”She attempted a teasing tone.“Should I be worried about this Doctor Eleanor Matthews you’ve been working with?”
A short burst of laughter escaped Finn.“Trust me, no.Eleanor doesn’t even like me much.She’s all business, and I suspect she finds my sense of humor deeply unprofessional.”
Amelia smirked, tucking one leg under her.“But is she pretty?”
He arched an eyebrow.“Let’s just say that even if she was Miss Universe, it wouldn’t matter, because no one’s turning my head from you.”
A small flush crept across Amelia’s cheeks, and she leaned in to kiss him briefly on the lips.“Oh God, Finn.Cheesy.But...Good answer,” she winked.
He grinned, then his face grew serious again.“As for the case, it’s… complicated.We have a string of murders staged like famous paintings, all connected to a gallery, but we can’t prove who’s behind it.Harrison Blackthorn, the gallery owner, is at the center of everything, yet we only have circumstantial evidence.We even arrested him temporarily, but his alibis checked out.”
She cocked her head.“So what’s the next step?”
Finn ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident.“I don’t know.Eleanor and I came across the idea tonight that the real lead is that the paintings might be forgeries, or at least some of them.If so, there’s a motive for people to keep quiet or kill those who discover the truth.But I’m stuck.The killer left behind staged crime scenes referencing Gainsborough, Constable… even a Medusa reference.And we still can’t pin it on anyone.”
Amelia reached out, resting a hand on his forearm.“Have you looked deeper into the forging operation itself?Like, who stands to gain from passing off fakes?That might be your angle.If there’s an illegal art ring, the killer might be someone within that circle.”
Finn’s eyes lit.“Actually, that’s a brilliant idea.Focus on the forgery pipeline, see if there’s a known forger working with Blackthorn, or if certain shady dealers connect to all these victims.”He let out a relieved laugh.“That’s why you’re the genius between us.I should have zeroed in on the forgers from the start.”
She grinned faintly.“Well, maybe not the genius, but I do have my moments.”
They returned to their meal, Amelia finishing her spaghetti and praising his cooking.He cleared away the plates, setting them on the kitchen counter.
“Why don't I run you a bath?”Finn asked.
She shook her head.“Can we just curl up on the couch, watch something mindless for a couple hours?”she asked softly.“I want normal.I want to not think for a bit.”
Finn’s nodded.“Of course,” he said.“We’ll find the fluffiest show on streaming, or a sitcom.Something with zero dead bodies.”
She mustered a small laugh, relief in her eyes.Gathering the wine glasses, they moved back to the couch, switching on a low lamp by the side table.He plumped a cushion behind her, and she slid off her shoes, tucking her feet beneath her.He settled next to her, arm draped around her shoulders.The flicker of candlelight mixed with the television's glow.
For a few minutes, they sank into the sofa cushions, letting some random comedy program chatter away on the screen.Amelia closed her eyes occasionally, resting her head against Finn’s chest.A lull of contentment filled him, warmth at the simple closeness.He was about to say something—maybe a silly joke about the show—when her phone rang, a shrill reminder of reality intruding.
She stiffened and picked it up, reading the caller ID."It's Clint from the Taskforce," she muttered, locking eyes with Finn."Must be news."
