Page 2 of When You're Lost

There was a rustling on Daisy’s end of the line, perhaps as she moved about her own kitchen.“Oh dear.I can send Tyler around right now, if that would help.It's his day off.He’s just upstairs, fiddling with who-knows-what on his computer.”

“Could you?”Victoria asked softly, relief creeping in.“I’d rather not call the police again with no real evidence.Just… see if Tyler can come by the back way, in case someone is lurking near the gate?”

Daisy’s tone was resolute.“Of course, love.He’ll be there in a jiffy, and he’ll check around the hedgerow.You just sit tight, all right?”

Victoria exhaled.“Thank you, Daisy.”

Hanging up, she immediately felt calmer.Tyler, Daisy’s son, was a strapping twenty-year-old, used to farm work, and although he was kind, he had a hard edge to him.If someone was skulking about, Tyler would flush them out.She gripped her phone, feeling foolish for letting fear clamp down on her so thoroughly.

Still, she glanced at the painting with regret.“Right,” she repeated.She rose from the stool.Her knees crackled in protest, but she forced them to move.Gently, she slid the brushes into a jar of water so the paint wouldn’t dry in the bristles.The colors of the early sunrise had taken effect, but there was a gloom that had settled over the garden as a thick band of cloud acted as a barrier to the great blue beyond.The horizon glowed a pale lavender, soon to be replaced by the brighter morning.

Then she heard it—a dull thump against the gate.She froze, heart leaping into her throat.For a moment she considered ignoring it, but her nerves were taut.

“It’s the breeze,” she whispered, flexing her fingers.“Probably just the wind pushing it.”

But no wind brushed her cheeks.The air had grown almost unnaturally still.Her every sense went on high alert, scanning the gloom for a shape or silhouette.Time seemed to slow.She waited, but the thump did not repeat.Slowly, her breathing steadied, and she told herself it must indeed be just a momentary jostle from a stray gust.

A few seconds later, footsteps.This time, the sound was unmistakable: measured steps scraping along the lane’s dirt.They came closer, accompanied by a slight scuff of shoes.

She put a hand to her chest.“Tyler?”she called, voice tinged with the barest hint of hope.“Is that you?”

From beyond the gate, a muffled reply: “Yup.”

Victoria felt a wave of relief so strong her knees nearly buckled.“Oh, thank goodness,” she murmured, hustling over to unfasten the latch.“I’m so glad you’re—”

She pulled the gate wide enough to poke her head into the lane.The shape looming over her didn’t match Tyler’s lean silhouette.In the vague half-light, she glimpsed broader shoulders, a heavier frame.Alarm crashed into her gut.She tried to step back, tried to slam the gate shut, but the figure moved too fast.

A glint of metal caught her eye—a cleaver, impossibly large.Her mouth opened to scream, but only a strangled gasp emerged.The stranger raised the cleaver high.

This can’t be real.She thought.This can’t be happening.

She didn’t even feel the first blow.She only registered a flash of silver, then an abrupt sensation that her entire body jerked.The cleaver bit into her flesh with a sickening sound.Shock flared, bright and cold.Victoria’s final thought was a dawning realization that she should have never opened the gate.

Her vision collapsed into darkness.A momentary awareness told her that her body—her very self—was no longer in one piece.Then, that consciousness faded, leaving only the hush of the garden, the creeping shadows of the early sun, and a silent iron gate swaying open into the empty lane.

CHAPTER ONE

Finn felt the morning breeze cool the sweat on his face as he and Amelia rounded the far side of the lake.The park spread out around them—early joggers, parents pushing strollers, and an older couple walking hand in hand.But he hardly noticed anyone else.His world, at that moment, was simply the rhythm of his breathing, the slap of his trainers on the path, and Amelia’s steady presence right beside him; athletic, red hair up in a ponytail, and a vision of beauty to Finn even when being competitive.Finn was pushing himself—not quite at full tilt, but enough that he felt his quads burning.

His lungs protested a bit when he tried to talk."We… can stop… whenever you want," he managed, glancing sideways at Amelia.Her ponytail swished from side to side, and she looked remarkably unflustered despite the quick pace.

“Stop?”Amelia replied, arching an eyebrow.“If...If you’re tired, by all means, Finn.But...I’m fine.”

He puffed out a chuckle.“Oh, I’m more than fine.I’m only running at… maybe fifty percent right now.”The words came out between panted breaths.

Amelia let out a quiet laugh.“Fifty, is that all?I’m at twenty.”

Finn nearly stumbled, shooting her an incredulous look.“Twenty?If that were true, you’d have lapped me by now.”

She gave an effortless shrug, eyes dancing with good humor.“I’m merely sparing you the embarrassment.Don’t want to make the entire United States look bad.”

He burst into laughter.It came out loud enough that a nearby jogger glanced over with mild curiosity.Amelia smirked in satisfaction.They continued in a synchronized stride for a few moments more, the patter of their feet blending with ducks quacking at the lake’s edge.

When they reached a slight incline near a stand of willow trees, Finn noticed Amelia’s breath quicken at last.He shot her a teasing smile.“I’m surprised you’ve still got so much energy, considering how late you were up last night.”

Amelia’s eyes flicked away, just briefly.“I’m sorry,” she said, pushing a strand of hair back from her forehead.“It’s just… things have been complicated.”They crested the small slope and headed downhill, letting momentum carry them.“The task force trying to track Wendell Reed’s whereabouts had me on a call until midnight.But I think they are annoyed the Home Office has told them to consult me.”

Finn’s tone turned a shade more serious.“Hey, I understand.I just—” He paused to leap over a stray twig on the path.“I’d love to help you guys if I could.You know, handle the Wendell problem as a team.After all, we’re not exactly novices at finding dangerous criminals.”

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