Page 25 of When You're Gone

The scuffle had ended as quickly asit began, leaving Nolan subdued on the floor while Finn steadied himself, hisjaw clenched against the lingering ache. Amelia stood by his side, her stancefirm and unwavering as she ensured that justice would prevail in this tangledweb of mystery and danger.

“What are you hiding in here?” Finnasked.

“Don’t go in there! It’s private!”Nolan yelped.

Finn turned and opened the door,stepping inside. The air thick with the scent of wax and decay. He movedcautiously, all the while wondering if Nolan had an accomplice nearby. Dustmotes danced in the sporadic shafts of light that pierced the gloom.

A glint caught Finn's eye as heneared another narrow doorway, hidden behind a tattered curtain. Heartpounding, he pushed it aside and stepped into a space that felt like a sanctumfrozen in time.

The room was dimly lit by candlesthat cast an eerie glow over the walls. A shrine dominated the far end, astatue dedicated to Ezra Bellamy. Finn's gaze swept over the display: oldphotographs with eyes that seemed to follow him, a large brass-handled knifethat gleamed ominously, reflecting the flickering candlelight.

And there, presiding over it all,hung a portrait of Bellamy himself, faded but austere, his gaze stern andunyielding. The founder of this madness, thought Finn, his mind trying toreconcile the past with the present horror.

Amelia followed. ”I’ve cuffed Nolanto a radiator.”

"Bellamy's looking right atme. Seems Nolan isn't just a fan," Finn said.

"Understatement of theyear," Amelia muttered under her breath, looking at the statue andpainting.

Finn approached the shrine, thedetails growing more macabre up close. Among the homage, handwritten notesscrawled with frantic energy hinted at rituals, at a devotion that went beyondobsession. Finn's detective instincts screamed that this was the breedingground for Nolan's unraveling psyche—a descent marked by each flickeringcandle.

“Look at this painting,” Ameliasaid, pointing to a portrait of a man standing over a large crate. On the cratewere the words “the heart of the machine” in clear writing.

"Amelia, Nolan's built ashrine to Bellamy down here," Finn reported, his voice steady despite thechill crawling up his spine. "It's like he's worshiping the guy. What thehell is the heart of the machine?"

“Look!” Amelia said, standing overa desk.

Finn rushed to her side. On thedesk was an old map. Finn's fingers traced the edges of the map, the dim lightfrom his flashlight casting an eerie glow on the patchwork of streets andalleys. The city of London sprawled before him in ink and paper, a labyrinth ofhistory and modernity. His gaze sharpened as he took in the markedlocations—two of which stood out more than the others.

“The old mill where Lucas Henshawwas murdered…” Finn started.

“And the bathhouse where EmilyStanton was killed,” Amelia finished. “but what are these other locations?”

“I don’t know,” Finn said. “But wenow have a suspect in our custody to ask.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Finn sat across from Tim Nolan inthe stark interview room at Hertfordshire Constabulary, the air heavy withtension. Amelia's presence beside him offered a silent reassurance as theyprepared to delve into the depths of Nolan's twisted mind.

The solicitor, a middle-aged manwith a stern expression named Paulson, sat next to Nolan, his pen poised over alegal pad. Finn noted how Nolan's eyes darted around the room, his handsfidgeting nervously in his lap. The man exuded an air of defiance that Finnfound both intriguing and unsettling.

"Mr. Nolan," Finn began,his voice steady and probing. "You've been linked to both Emily Stantonand Lucas Henshaw through various means. Care to explain your connection tothem?"

Nolan's lips curled into a sardonicsmile, his gaze locking onto Finn's with an intensity that sent a shiver downFinn's spine. "I have no obligation to entertain baselessaccusations," he retorted, his tone laced with arrogance.

Finn's gaze remained fixed on TimNolan, his expression unreadable yet piercing. The solicitor, Paulson, clearedhis throat, breaking the tense silence that enveloped the room. His voice wasmeasured as he addressed Finn and Amelia.

"Detective Wright, could youplease elaborate on the alleged connections between my client and the victimsin question?" Paulson's tone carried a hint of skepticism, his eyesflickering between Finn and Amelia.

Finn leaned forward slightly, hishands clasped together on the table. "Mr. Nolan," he began, lockingeyes with the defiant man across from him. "Our investigation hasuncovered records of cryptic messages sent by you to Emily Stanton prior to hertragic demise."

Nolan's facade wavered for amoment, a flicker of unease crossing his features before he masked it with apracticed nonchalance. "I fail to see how private correspondenceimplicates me in any wrongdoing," he retorted, though a trace of uncertaintylingered in his voice.

Amelia interjected smoothly, hergaze unwavering. "Furthermore, Mr. Nolan, it has come to our attentionthat you share a peculiar fascination with Lucas Henshaw—a fascination thatcenters around an individual named Ezra Bellamy."

Nolan's mask slipped further at themention of Bellamy's name, a shadow passing over his eyes before he composedhimself once more. "Ezra Bellamy is merely a historical figure ofinterest," he replied curtly, though Finn detected a subtle tremor in histone.

Finn continued with precision, eachword calculated to unravel Nolan's facade. "Both Emily Stanton and LucasHenshaw exhibited an unhealthy fixation on this enigmatic figure from thepast—a fixation that seems to have drawn them into dangerous territory."

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