Page 25 of When 're Silent

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The gravel crunched under the tiresof their unmarked car, a gritty sound that felt like crushed snow. Finn’s gripon the steering wheel was firm, his knuckles whitening as they approached theHanover family estate. A wrought-iron gate parted before them, revealing aworld of manicured lawns and hushed opulence.

Amelia’s gaze swept over theexpansive grounds, her sharp eyes assessing, cataloging. She turned to Finnwith an unreadable expression. “Quite the contrast from the city’s clutter.”

“Money buys space and silence,”Finn replied, his voice low. The estate spread before them like a carefullycurated exhibit, each tree and shrub placed with intention.

They parked beside a fountain, itswater murmuring secrets to the surrounding statues. As they exited the vehicle,Finn took in the stately home that loomed before them—a testament to old wealthand enduring legacies. He could almost feel the weight of tradition pressingagainst him, a tangible reminder of the lives shaped within these walls.

“The office called ahead. Mr. andMrs. Hanover are expecting us,” Amelia said, leading the way up the steps. Herconfidence was a beacon he found himself drawn to, especially now, when everylead seemed to slip through their fingers like smoke.

The door opened before they couldknock, and a woman stood there, her age etched into the lines of her face. Hereyes were clouded with grief but carried an unmistakable strength. Beside her,a man, stooped with sorrow yet fortified by resolve, extended his hand to Finn.

“Detective Wright, InspectorWinters. We are the Hanovers... Rebecca’s parents. Please come in,” he said,voice brittle like autumn leaves.

“Thank you for seeing us at suchshort notice,” Finn said, crossing the threshold. The interior of the house wasanother realm altogether. Every surface spoke of care and attention, eachartifact a whisper from the past.

“Can we offer you tea or coffee?”Mrs. Hanover asked, her politeness a veneer over her pain.

“Nothing for us, thank you,” Ameliareplied gently. “We won’t take much of your time.”

They settled into a sitting roomwhere the air seemed thick with memories. Finn could almost hear the echo oflaughter that once filled the room, now stifled by tragedy. Rebecca’s parentssat across from them, hands clasped together like a lifeline. Finn thought ofRebecca as a girl in that summer’s dress, not a care in the world. He hated howcruel the world could be.

“Tell us about Rebecca,” Ameliaprompted softly, her notebook open but her eyes fixed on the couple, invitingtrust.

Mrs. Hanover inhaled sharply,steeling herself. “Our daughter was vibrant, full of life. She loved thetheater, always involved in some production or other.” Her voice wavered, “Shehad such dreams...”

"Did she have many friendsfrom the theater?" Finn inquired, leaning forward. His mindraced—Rebecca's passion for the stage mirrored Dominique's. Was it merely acoincidence?

“Many,” Mr. Hanover confirmed, hisvoice rough. “But after she... passed, few have been in touch. It’s a transientworld, the theater.”

Finn noted the subtle shift in theman’s tone, a shadow of disapproval perhaps. He filed it away mentally; everynuance mattered.

“Was there anyone special in herlife? Someone she might have confided in about any troubles in her life?”Amelia asked.

“Rebecca was private about herrelationships,” Mrs. Hanover said, and Finn detected a flicker of somethingakin to reluctance. “She didn’t bring friends home often.”

“I was a bit like that when I wasyounger,” Finn offered a sympathetic nod. He observed the couple, their sharedgrief creating an impenetrable bond. Yet, there was more to unravel here—layersof a life cut short, pieces of a puzzle that refused to fit neatly together.

“Anything you can remember could becrucial,” Amelia added, her voice soft but insistent.

Mr. Hanover’s gaze met Finn’ssquarely. “We want justice for our daughter, Detective. We’ll help in any waywe can.”

"Thank you," Finn said,feeling expectation settle on his shoulders. "So there were no argumentsor problems with anyone in the run-up to her death?"

“No,” Mr Hanover replied. “Ourdaughter didn’t get into that sort of thing.”

“And what about boyfriends oranything like that?” asked Amelia.

Mr Hanover sighed. “Rebecca didn’thave a boyfriend.”

“Well...” Mrs Hanover said. “Therewas a nasty piece of work she saw for a time. James Blackwood is his name.”

Finn looked at Amelia knowingly andthen said: “What made him nasty, exactly?”

“He tried to take our Rebeccaaway,” Mr Hanover said, abruptly.

“Like kidnap?” asked Amelia.

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