Page 29 of When You're Gone

"Amelia, I—" Finnstarted, but the piercing ring of his mobile phone cut him off mid-sentence.

He cursed under his breath as hegrabbed the device, seeing Rob's name flashing on the screen."Wright," he answered tersely, all traces of the quiet momentvanishing.

"Another murder," Rob'svoice came through, grim and urgent. "Near Lornpike train station. Youngbloke named Rajiv Choudhary. App developer with a bright future ahead of him.He was found propped up… but we think he was murdered elsewhere."

"Details," Finn demanded,his heart sinking.

"Found dead in one of thecarriages. Bullet wound, chest. Antique pistol lying next to him. This one'sgot your Victorian signature all over it. And Finn..." Rob hesitated.

"What is it?"

"Rajiv was an IT expert andwas working on something big, he'd worked with the government before.Higher-ups are very worried. You and Winters need to get down here."

"Understood." Finn hungup, the gravity of the situation settling over him like a shroud.

"Another one?" Amelia'svoice was tight with concern.

***

The night embraced them with abiting chill as Finn and Amelia arrived at the Victorian train station, itsdilapidated framework casting a macabre silhouette against the moonlit sky.They moved swiftly, their breaths visible in the air, their steps echoing onthe gravel as they approached the scene.

“Another Victorian location,"Amelia murmured, her eyes scanning the Gothic spires of the station's roof.

"Give me modernity," Finnreplied, his voice low as they ducked under the fluttering police tape andstepped into the abandoned carriage.

Inside, the scene was grotesque yetmeticulously arranged. Rajiv Choudhary lay sprawled across the ornate carpet,the fabric pattern clashing with the modern cut of his clothing. An antiquepistol rested by his side, as if discarded after performing its final, fatalact.

"Like Henshaw," Amelianoted, though her tone carried no surprise—just a weary resignation that they'dseen this grim performance before. “He’s been posed.”

"Victorian theme, again,"Finn said, squatting beside the victim. "And like Lucas and Emily, he wasinvolved in tech."

“I wonder if he had any interest inEzra Bellamy?” Amelia queried.

"Let's see what our 'ghost ofprogress' left us this time." Finn's hand hovered above a corner ofparchment pinned beneath the dead man's palm—a deliberate placement. He donneda pair of gloves before carefully extracting the note.

"Numbers, symbols... acipher?" Amelia leaned over his shoulder, studying the cryptic scrawl.

"Could be. And lookhere," he pointed to a line scribbled at the bottom. "'Midnightapproaches, darkness encroaches.' It's a threat, Amelia."

"He’s building tosomething," she repeated thoughtfully. "This killer has a message, amanifesto even. But it's buried in riddles and old-world nostalgia."

"Which means we're not justhunting a murderer," Finn concluded, standing up and locking eyes withher, "we're up against an ideology. A dark reflection of the world Bellamywanted. I wonder if we’re dealing with a cult."

Finn's eyes were still locked onthe evidence bag, cradling the note when a gentle tug on his sleeve jolted himback to the present. An elderly, weather-beaten face peered up at him, framedby a tangle of unkempt gray hair.

"Excuse me, sirs,ma'ams," the man's voice was hoarse, like gravel tumbling in a hollowdrum. "I seen somethin' strange tonight."

"Who are you?" Finnasked, his tone softening as he noted the man's threadbare coat and thelife-worn hands clutching a battered hat.

"Name’s Thomas," hereplied, shifting from foot to foot. "I stay 'round these parts. The oldcarriages make for good shelter, see?"

Amelia stepped forward, her voicecarrying the same calm authority she exercised at crime scenes. "What didyou see, Thomas?"

"Was a tall fella,"Thomas began, his gaze distant as if replaying the vision. "All clothed inblack, he was, with a long coat that swept the ground. And a white mask.Terrifying." He paused, swallowing hard. "Had this book with him,too. Big, it was, with fancy writing on it. Looked bloody important."

"Could you see his face?"Finn prodded gently, noting the details mentally.

"Dark as it was, no sir. Buthe carried himself all... high and mighty. Like he owned the place.”

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