Page 7 of When 're Silent

CHAPTER THREE

Finn Wright’s fists were a blur asthey hammered against the heavy bag with a rhythmic thud that echoed throughthe cavernous space of the dilapidated London gym. Each impact sent a jolt uphis arm, reverberating in his shoulders and down his spine. The musty scent ofsweat and old leather was pungent in the air, mixing with the metallic tang ofrust from the aging equipment that surrounded him.

The gym was an island of gritamidst the sprawling city, its walls adorned with peeling posters of boxinglegends, the floor littered with chalk dust and discarded wraps. It was here inthis temple of controlled violence that Finn sought refuge, a place where hecould channel the roiling storm within him into each disciplined strike.

Christmas had come and gone withlittle fanfare, the festive lights throughout the city doing nothing to piercethe shadow cast by Max Vilne’s absence. Somewhere out there, the cunningpredator remained at large, his whereabouts as much a mystery as the outcome ofFinn’s impending court date. That day loomed over Finn like a guillotine, readyto sever his ties with the FBI or absolve him of the unintended consequences ofa year-old hostage rescue gone awry. The anticipation gnawed at him, but here,amidst the echoes of punches and the grunts of effort, he found temporarysolace.

His breaths came in ragged gasps,steaming in the frigid air as he pushed his body to its limits. Every strikeagainst the bag was a silent declaration—a refusal to be broken by the weightof his past transgressions and the bureaucratic limbo that shackled him. Heimagined the bag as his own personal crucible, each punch forging him anew,stronger and more resilient.

But even the pounding rhythm of histraining couldn’t fully silence the ghosts that haunted him. Each time hisgloves made contact, snapshots of past cases flickered behind his eyes—shadowyfigures, victims’ cries, and the ever-present specter of Max Vilne, tauntinghim from the darkness.

It had been quite a year living inEngland. After proving his worth solving a high-profile crime in an unofficialcapacity, he had been hired as a consulting detective for the Home Office. Aspecial team, consisting of himself, Amelia, and Rob, using HertfordshireConstabulary as their base of operations, had been used to tackle several majormurders the government felt needed a less orthodox approach. Finn and his twofriends had already seen much of the UK, and yet there was so much more toexplore. Finn just wished he could do that without the thorn of Max Vilne inhis mind.

The shrill ring of his phoneshattered his focus. Finn’s hand instinctively reached for the device, thesweat from his brow dripping onto the screen as he brought it into view.“Amelia” lit up the display in stark, digital letters—a beacon of the presentcutting through the fog of his troubled thoughts.

He hesitated for a fraction of asecond, knowing that answering the call would wrench him from the sanctuary ofhis routine. But Amelia wasn’t just any caller; she was his partner, the onewho stood by him when the world seemed intent on tearing him down. With herkeen insight and unwavering dedication, she had proven herself indispensable asa colleague, but it was the swirling feelings, which Finn had developed forher, that made him somewhat uncertain for what the future held for them.

Finn peeled off his gloves, theVelcro tearing loudly in the quiet aftermath of his halted workout. His chestheaved as he tried to steady his breathing, preparing himself for whateverurgency Amelia’s call might bring. Whatever it was, he knew it meant steppingback into the fray, back into the labyrinthine world of crime and punishment.

As he pressed the phone to his ear,his heart settled into a wary rhythm. The chase, it seemed, was far from over.

Finn pressed the phone against hisear, the muffled sounds of the gym receding as Amelia’s voice pierced through,sharp and laced with urgency. The familiarity of her tone was a stark contrastto the cold, hard resolve he had been cultivating with each punch thrown intothe leathery embrace of the training bag.

“Amelia,” he began, his wordspunctuated by the rhythmic gasps of breath he fought to control. “Did you havea good Christmas?” He pressed on despite the tightness in his chest, anunspoken concern threading through the simplicity of the question.

There was a pause, the briefest ofhesitations, before she responded. “It was nice, Finn,” she said, her voicesofter now, touched by a hint of something that sounded like regret. “But I wasworried about you being alone. You should’ve come with us.” Her sincerity hungbetween them, a bridge over the distance their professional boundaries usuallyimposed.

“Would’ve loved to,” Finn replied,allowing a wry smile to tease at the corners of his mouth, “but then I’d havehad to bring Rob along for the ride.” A small laugh escaped him, the soundforeign in the stark confines of the gym. It was a feeble attempt to lightenthe mood, but the underlying tension remained, taut and unyielding.

The line crackled with silence, andFinn could almost picture Amelia rolling her eyes on the other end. He didn’tneed to see her face to know that her next words would steer them back intofamiliar territory—the kind that came with case files and crime scenes.

“Is this about a new case?” heasked, bracing himself against the inevitable pull back into the world he wastrying to keep at bay. His hands clenched reflexively, knuckles white even ashe consciously loosened his grip on the phone.

“Yes,” Amelia confirmed, and theweight of the word was almost palpable. “A woman named Dominique Plantagenethas been murdered. The murder—it’s...it bears an uncanny resemblance to anotherrecent death, Rebecca Hanover’s case.”

The names were unknown to Finn’smind, a blip on the radar of his thoughts. They held no personal significancefor him, as he had never known Rebecca Hanover or Dominique Plantagenet. Hisfocus remained unwavering, fixed solely on the task at hand. But he knew, likeall of his cases, he would become deeply familiar with them and care aboutbringing them justice.

“Tell me everything,” he saidfinally.

Amelia’s voice crackled with a hintof frustration as she replied, “I don’t have all the details yet, Finn. But Ido know that Rob has been gathering information at headquarters. He’ll send usmore on the specifics en route.” Her words hung in the air, leaving Finn with asense of anticipation and an underlying unease. The thought of returning to theconfines of the Hertfordshire Constabulary made him both excited and uneasy. Hewas enthused by the opportunity to be on a case again, but he worried that it wouldbe at a cost—taking his eyes off Max Vilne and where he might be.

With a deep breath, Finn let thecacophony of past cases fill his mind—the images, the sounds, the gut-wrenchinglosses. They were all part of who he was, part of what drove him. He couldn’tturn away now, not when this new case beckoned. The chase was everything. Heexhaled slowly, the determination seeping back into his bones like warmth froma long-forgotten fire.

“Amelia,” he uttered, his voicebarely above a whisper, yet carrying the steel of resolved conviction. “I’min.”

“Are you sure, Finn?” she asked. “Iknow how occupied you’ve been looking for any glimpse of Vilne.”

“I’m sure.”

“Having your attention in twoplaces,” Amelia said, “can also divide your results.”

“Amelia,” Finn said, moreforcefully this time. “I can do this.”

The decision hung in the airbetween them, a pivotal moment where past collided with the present, where thespecter of former glories and failures lent weight to his choice. But FinnWright was no stranger to risk; it was an old companion, one that had walkedbeside him through countless darkened doorways and whispered promises ofredemption.

He could almost taste the danger,the tantalizing edge of consequence that bordered every decision in this lineof work. It was a flavor he knew well, one that had soured in his mouth moretimes than he cared to admit. Yet here he was, ready to dance with fate oncemore, to step back into the world of crime solving where the stakes were lifeitself.

“Okay, Finn,” she said. “The crimescene is an hour out from here.”

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