Page 42 of When 're Silent

“Growing up in Florida wasn’teasy,” Finn confessed, tilting his head to catch Amelia’s attention. “A poortown where everyone knew your name and business. They all thought I’d end upjust another trouble-making statistic.”

Amelia turned to face him, herexpression open, inviting him to continue. He hesitated, unaccustomed tosharing personal tales, but something about the trust between them urged himon.

“Did you just leave?” asked Amelia.

“Yeah,” Finn said. “But things weredifficult. No one trusted me.”

The train clattered slightly on thetracks.

“Then one day, everything changed,”he said, his voice dipped lower with the weight of the memory. “A girl from mytown nearly got hit by a car. I managed to pull her out of the way. After that,people started seeing me differently.”

He paused, reflecting on thepivotal moment. “That’s when I realized I wanted—needed—to help others. Itwasn’t long before that path led me to the FBI.” His past, once a shadowybackdrop to his life, now seemed like the prologue to his purpose.

Amelia nodded, her eyes reflectingan understanding that went deeper than words. Just as she opened her mouth torespond, Finn seized the opportunity to shift the focus onto her.

He felt a need to lean in and kissher. But he respected her boundaries. Then, one question he had wanted answeredbubbled to the top of his mind.

“Have you seen anyone since yourfiance passed?” he asked gently, aware of the delicate ground he trod upon.

“No,” she replied, her voice steadyyet distant, as if the question pulled her back through time.

Finn leaned in closer, moved bytheir shared vulnerability. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“It’s hard Finn,” she said, softly.“You imagine your world with a man, then that world takes him away for good.You think you’ll never feel that way again. Then... A chance encounter...”

“A chance encounter,” Finn nodded,repeating the phrase quietly.

They stared into each other’s eyesbefore Finn finally plucked up the courage and said: “Amelia, would you everlike to...”

“Tickets, please,” a conductor withrosey cheeks asked, suddenly from the aisle.

Finn ruffled through his pockets.“Um.”

“Don’t tell me you lost them?”Amelia said.

“No,” Finn answered. “I had them inmy hand, and I went to the toilet and... Oh dear.”

“Two returns to Wendsley, please,”Amelia laughed, paying the conductor.

The conductor handed over thetickets, nodded, and then walked along the aisle.

“I’ll hold on to them for now,”Amelia said, pocketing them.

Finn nodded, feeling the moment wasgone. His courage certainly was diminished for the time being. Outside, thecityscape gradually gave way to the rolling countryside, signaling the end oftheir temporary respite. As if on cue, they both straightened up, the familiarmantle of duty reasserting itself. They were detectives first, everything elsecame after. The task at hand was grim, but necessary. There would be time forpersonal matters later—if at all.

The train carried them further fromthe city’s chaos, towards the answers they hoped lay with the eccentrichistorian awaiting them far from London on the West coast.

***

The tires of their unmarked policecar crunched over the gravel as Finn steered it up the serpentine drive thatled to Thaddeus Trumble's home. The building stood secluded amid a grove ofancient trees, their bare branches clawing at the gray skies above likedesperate fingers seeking salvation from the coming storm.

“You would think the local policedepartment could have given us something a little easier to drive,” Finngrimaced as he navigated the winding path.

“You get what you get,” Ameliasmiled, her eyes scanning the impressive façade of the historian’s residence.“Besides, I’m sure Mr. Trumble will make it worth our while.”

Finn raised an eyebrow at hercomment but said nothing as he killed the engine. They stepped out into thecrisp air, tinged with the metallic scent of impending rain, and approached thefront door. It loomed before them, heavy wood carved with intricate scenes thatseemed to tell tales of glory and tragedy long forgotten by the world beyondthis threshold.

Before they could knock, the doorswung open, revealing a man who seemed to embody the perfect blend of intellectand charm. Thaddeus Trumble, despite his young age of thirty, exuded an air ofconfidence and knowledge that belied his years. His chiseled features wereframed by a mane of dark hair, artfully tousled as if he’d just stepped out ofa university lecture hall. His eyes, a striking shade of green, sparkled with amix of curiosity and mischief behind his stylish glasses.

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