Page 11 of When 're Silent

“Maybe, or he’s like Vilne andlikes to toy with the people chasing him.” Finn nodded as he thought throughit, the urgency of the hunt surging within him. They were against a foe whoreveled in the theatrics of their crimes, and every clue was another steptowards unmasking them. In the embrace of Thornheart Manor, with the hillslooming like silent sentinels outside, Finn felt the inexorable pull of thechase. The killer had left a deliberate trail, but the reason behind thatremained a mystery.

Finn stood up, the cold air ofThornheart sending a shiver down his spine despite the adrenaline that coursedthrough his veins.

“Carefully collect these,” Finninstructed a nearby forensics member, his tone leaving no room for doubt as tothe gravity of the task. He pointed to the old note and the emblem, theirpresence at the scene a macabre punctuation to Dominique’s final act. “We needeverything these can tell us. Cross-reference the emblem with any archives onBritish royalty—this killer wants us to follow their historical breadcrumbs.”

The forensic scientist, clad insterile white that contrasted starkly with the dark stone of the courtyard,nodded solemnly. They began the meticulous process of collecting the evidence,each item encased within a clear plastic bag, sealed against contamination.Finn’s gaze remained fixed on the scientist’s careful movements, ensuring theintegrity of what could be the key to unlocking the murderer’s identity.

Once the evidence was secured, Finnturned his attention back to the crime scene, his eyes scanning every inch ofthe space with methodical precision. Dominique’s body lay in repose upon theground, her pale skin almost blending with the snow that surrounded her. Herposition was unnatural, limbs splayed in a silent testament to the violence ofher last moments. Finn crouched, studying the way her fingers were curled, theangle of her head, the pattern of blood that had seeped into the frosty earthbeneath her—the tableau before him a grotesque still life.

Amelia, who had been conferringwith another officer, caught Finn’s eye and gave a slight nod.

Finn straightened, his mind racingas he committed the scene to memory. There was something here, amid the chaosand the carnage, something crucial that he was on the cusp of understanding.Behind the facade of this winter crime lay a message written in blood andhistory, and he would decipher it.

Finn’s gaze swept over the crimescene, the low winter sun casting elongated shadows across Thornheart Manor’sfrostbitten grounds and through the window. The cold bit into his skin evenwhile inside, but it was the sight before him that sent a deeper chill throughhis spine.

What am I missing? he thought.

Then, he saw something else. Finnmoved quickly and started to take his shoes off.

“Finn, have you finally lost yourmind?” Amelia asked.

“Hold these,” he said to aconstable standing nearby.

Finn then stepped up onto an oldarmchair, took out a flashlight from his pocket, and then looked down atDominique’s body. He moved the light around.

“It’s hard to see, but it’s there!”he said, excitedly.

His eyes, sharp and unyielding,picked up on an anomaly—a constellation of minuscule particles near the emblemthat had been deliberately placed in line with Dominique’s finger. Theyglinted, almost blending in with the lush carpet that cradled them. Notdust—too reflective. Not glass—too irregular. He crouched for a closerexamination, noting their crystalline structure. Salt? No, something else.

“Amelia,” he called without lookingup, trusting she would hear the urgency threaded in his voice. She was therewithin moments, her presence a silent question.

“Take a look at this,” Finn said,moving closer and gesturing towards the discovery with a gloved hand. Amelialeaned in, her brow furrowing as she too recognized the oddity of the find.

“Looks like tiny fragments ofsomething,” she said. “We’ll need these sampled. The question is, are theyimportant or just pieces of dirt?”

“Nothing about this crime isaccidental,” Finn instructed, his tone leaving no room for delay. She nodded,signaling to the forensic team who converged with tweezers and evidence bags,treating the tiny particles with the reverence due to potential keys to amurderer’s mind.

Finn took off his gloves and putthem in his pocket.

The task was completed withefficiency born of practiced hands under Finn and Amelia’s watchful eyes. Asthe forensic scientist sealed the bag, he stood, his thoughts racing. Theseparticles were left for a reason. A piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit yet,but when it did, it would illuminate corners of darkness that the killerinhabited.

As the last of the evidence wassecured, and the team began to disperse, Finn felt the stirrings of a familiarrestlessness in his gut. It was more than the biting air around him or theisolation of Thornheart nestled between looming peaks—it was the acuteawareness that there was always another madman willing to kill. Sometimes itfelt like the chase was never ending.

“Plantagenet...” Finn whispered.“That’s an old royal name, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Amelia said. “And with thecoat of arms, we have to consider the fact that there may be a royal connectionhere.”

“We’d have to see if the othervictim is connected to royalty somehow,” Finn mused.

“The other victim’s second name isHanover,” Amelia explained. “I know the Hanovers have been members of the royalfamily before, but there are plenty who just share the name. It could be acoincidence.”

“I have a feeling none of this isgoing to be by chance,” Finn replied, gravely.

“We should head out,” Amelia said.

“To Garden City?” Finn asked,confused. “That’s an hour away.”

“No,” Amelia answered. “There’s atown not far from here. They have a pathologist and a small forensics lab.”

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