Page 47 of When You're Gone

The interrogation room's doorclicked shut behind them, sealing away the enigma that was Chronos. Finn rubbedat his temple, feeling the echo of a headache born from a mix of exhaustion andthe earlier blow to his head.

"Long day," he muttered,more to himself than to Amelia, who stood beside him, her gaze still fixed onthe closed door as if she could see through it to the secrets beyond.

"Understatement," Ameliareplied, her voice carrying a weariness that mirrored his own.

Finn glanced sideways at hispartner. The fluorescent lights of the corridor cast harsh shadows across herface, accentuating the determination etched into her features—a resolutesculpture of duty and drive.

"You should head home,"he said, his tone gentle yet laced with concern. "Get some rest."

“It doesn't feel like the time totake a break, Finn.”

“What else can we do right now? Thetech guys will be ready with their assessment in a couple of hours, other thanthat the trail is cold,” Finn said. “We're exhausted, and the second the techguys get anything from Chronos' files, we might have to work 24 hours round theclock to catch Vilne, if this computer virus is even a real thing. This is thecalm before the storm. Use it to get some sleep.”

Amelia turned to face him, her eyesholding his for a moment before she nodded slowly. "I will."

"Need a lift?" Finnoffered, already picturing the silent cab ride where the day’s events wouldreplay over in their minds without need for words.

"No, thanks." Shehesitated, then added, "There's something I need to do. Somethingoverdue."

Finn's brows knitted together incuriosity. "What is it?"

A small smile tugged at the cornersof Amelia's mouth. She reached out, her hand warm against his cheek—a brief,comforting touch. "Don't worry about it," she said softly, her eyesrevealing nothing.

He watched her walk away, herfigure retreating into the labyrinth of Hertfordshire Constabulary’s dimly litcorridors.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

The moon hung low in the sky,casting a pallid glow over the sprawling cemetery. Amelia's footsteps crunchedon the gravel path, the sound stark against the silence of the night. Shenavigated between the weathered headstones with a practiced ease, her sensestuned to the task at hand. This was a woman who spent her days piecing togetherpuzzles hidden in the shadows of human nature, yet now she sought solace in thequiet company of the dead.

As she reached Mark's grave, Ameliacame to a standstill. The cool breeze stirred the hem of her coat, but insideshe felt numb. Here, under the indifferent gaze of the stars, the world seemedto slow down for a brief moment. She looked at the inscription on the headstone– Mark's name etched into the unyielding stone, the dates marking theall-too-short bookends of his life.

A deep breath helped steady her,though her heart continued its uneven rhythm. Her mind, always so adept atcutting through the noise and finding the truth, churned with a tumultuous mixof thoughts and memories. In the solitude of the graveyard, Amelia allowedherself this rare pause, a moment to let the facade of the unflappableInspector Winters slip just slightly.

Before her, the headstone stood asa testament to what had been—a love lost to the cruel twist of fate. Theprofessional mask she wore daily, the one that allowed her to stare downsuspects and navigate the treacherous waters of high-profile murder cases,seemed out of place here. This was personal, intimate, and even though she wasalone, vulnerability prickled at the edges of her composed exterior.

Amelia's eyes traced the letters ofMark's name, each one a stark reminder of promises unfulfilled and dreamsshattered. Yet, even as grief tugged at her, the ember of determination thatdrove her every action refused to be extinguished. She had forged a paththrough darkness before and would do so again, alongside Finn, whose sharp witand relentless pursuit of justice matched her own.

But tonight, she was not DetectiveWinters. Tonight, she was simply Amelia, standing before the memory of the manshe'd planned to spend her life with, gathering the shards of her past as sheprepared to speak words that weighed heavy on her soul.

Amelia exhaled a misty breath intothe cold night air, her gaze not leaving the worn edges of the headstone. Thecemetery was still, save for the rustling of autumn leaves that dancedwhimsically among the graves. She pressed her lips together, steeling herselffor the confession that had been haunting the corners of her mind.

"Mark," she began, hervoice no more than a whisper, yet it carried in the silence like a sacred vow."I love you. Deeply. You're woven into the very fabric of who I am."

The words felt like stones in hermouth, heavy with truth and the burden of what came next. Amelia's fingerstraced the cold granite before her, taking comfort in its unyielding presence.

"But there's something else,something I need to say." She paused, collecting her thoughts as if theywere scattered pieces of a puzzle she was only now ready to solve. "I'vefound... someone. Finn Wright, my partner. He's infuriating at times, stubborn,too clever by half..."

She smiled faintly, the ghost oftheir banter flitting across her memory. It was a stark contrast to thesolemnity of the graveyard, yet it was as much a part of her as the grief thatclung to her soul.

"And I've fallen forhim," Amelia admitted to the night, the admission liberating and agonizingall at once. "He understands the darkness we face every day, the monsterswe chase. And he stands beside me, unwavering."

A shiver ran down her spine, notfrom the chill in the air but from the realization of how much she'd come torely on Finn's presence. How his rare smiles could light up the dim corridorsof Hertfordshire Constabulary, how his keen insight often unraveled the mostintricate crimes.

"Mark, I want to let go ofthis guilt," she murmured, closing her eyes briefly as if to shut out theworld and its judgments. "To embrace this new path without feeling likeI'm betraying what we had."

Her hands clenched into fists ather sides, the fight within her rising. The same determination that propelledher through the twisted labyrinths of murder investigations was now fueling herresolve to accept happiness where she could find it.

"Because I know that's whatyou would want for me," she finished, her voice steady now, the tremorgone. Her heart was a tumult of emotion, but beneath it all lay a newfoundclarity.

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