Page 24 of When You're Lost

He saw a shape crumpled near the fence—a man on one knee, clutching his leg.Drawing closer, Finn realized it was indeed Harrison, who half-whirled to face him, eyes flaring with resentment.

“You— get away!”Harrison spat.“This is entrapment, or… or something!”

Finn halted.Harrison was clearly hurt, likely having tripped over something in the dark.“Stop resisting, Harrison,” he said, trying to keep calm.“We just need to ask questions.You made it worse by running.”

Harrison cursed under his breath, attempting to rise.Just then, another figure emerged from the shadows—Eleanor.

Harrison glared at her.“This is your fault!I tripped—tripped over your foot!I’ll sue the police for assault!”He pointed accusingly at Eleanor.

She raised her hands."I'm not in the police," she said flatly."And the only witnesses are these crates… or, at best, the moon up there.Good luck with that."

A crack of humor danced in Finn’s eyes as he approached, pulling a pair of cuffs from his jacket pocket.“Quite a story you’d have.But I’m pretty sure we can handle it.”He nodded to Eleanor.“Nicely done.”

She shrugged, a half-smile ghosting her lips.“He wouldn’t stop, so I might have… extended my leg at the right moment.”

Harrison let out a frustrated cry, still clutching his ankle.“You can’t do this.I haven’t—haven’t done anything!”

Finn knelt, deftly snapping the plastic cuffs around Harrison's wrists."You're under arrest, Harrison Blackthorn, on suspicion of involvement in multiple murders.You have the right to remain silent.."He cast a quick look around, seeing if any security or staff were near.No one, apparently, as Finn finished reading him his rights.The muffled sound of the gallery's music drifted from the closed door."We'll take you in."

Harrison muttered another curse, clearly in pain but equally incensed.“I’ll have your job for this, you incompetent—”

“Good,” Finn muttered.“I wouldn't mind putting my feet up for a while.”

Eleanor drew out her phone.“I'll call Rob to send a local unit and come pick us up.Because I don’t think we can shuffle Harrison all the way through the exhibit in front of the guests.”

Finn nodded, pressing a hand gently on Harrison’s shoulder to keep him from trying another escape.“We’ll see what you have to say back at the station, Mr.Blackthorn.”

***

Two hours later, they found themselves at Hertfordshire Constabulary: a large brooding building of brick and glass, fluorescent lights buzzing in the corridors.After some triage by station medics—Harrison’s ankle was mildly sprained, no major harm done—they escorted him to an interview room.Finn sat on one side of the metal table, Eleanor next to him, while Harrison was across from them, arms uncuffed now but still wincing occasionally.

A digital recorder on the table clicked on.Finn gave a formal statement of date and time, reading Harrison his rights once more.Harrison glowered, crossing his arms.The overhead lighting gave his face a haggard cast.

“All right,” Finn began calmly.“Harrison, we need to discuss the deaths of Victoria Palmer, Edmund Garner, and Daniel Townsend.All three had recent run-ins with you, were found staged in references to famous paintings, and we have reason to believe they’re tied to your gallery.Want to tell us what’s really going on?”

“Where the hell is my solicitor!?”

“We can wait, you don't have to talk to us until you have legal representation,” Finn said.

Harrison exhaled a bitter laugh.“You think I'm afraid of saying the wrong thing and landing in prison?I told you everything before.I had arguments, yes.But arguments aren’t murder.Why would I kill them?You think I get some thrill out of that?”

Eleanor leaned forward.“Your behavior suggests you’re either hiding something or you’re extremely paranoid.Running away tonight didn’t help your case.”

He shot her a glare.“I ran because you keep treating me like a criminal.I’ve lost business deals since people have questioned the authenticity of the paintings I display, and no doubt clients are spooked by your incessant visits.My entire gallery’s reputation is on the line.So yes, I panicked.”

Finn kept his voice even.“Victoria Palmer suspected a forgery at your gallery.Edmund Garner also argued with you.Daniel Townsend, an art professor, quarreled with you days ago.They all ended up dead.”

Harrison’s gaze flicked from Finn to Eleanor, then down at the table.“What do you want me to say?I disagreed with them, sure.They all thought I was trying to pull a fast one at auction.But I have an alibi for the nights in question.Victoria died on a Tuesday—I was at a private collector’s dinner, with a dozen witnesses.Edmund was killed two nights later—I was in London, attending a charity function, also with multiple witnesses.And Daniel Townsend today?I was at the gallery all day.My assistant Mary can confirm all the details.”

Eleanor frowned, glancing at Finn.“Were you alone at any point during these dinners or events?”

Harrison let out a short sigh.“Briefly to use the restroom, like any human being.But I wasn’t gone for hours.You can talk to them.They’ll verify I was there practically the entire time.”

Finn tapped the table.“We’ll check.But if your alibi stands, then how do you explain all your victims being linked to your gallery—and the killer referencing artworks from your exhibits?”

Harrison swallowed, eyes darting.“I don’t know.Maybe someone hates me, wants me implicated.A rival gallery owner, an ex-employee, or… or some deranged person who fixates on our curated shows.In all honesty, I'm afraid I’m next on their list.”

Eleanor studied him intently.“You claim you’re a target, not the perp.Have you been threatened?Seen anything suspicious?”

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