Page 28 of When You're Lost

He nodded for her to answer.She pressed the phone to her ear.“Winters,” she said.

The comedic laughter track from the TV contrasted starkly with her tense posture.Finn muted the volume.Watching her face, he saw a flicker of dread, then a tightening of her body.“Okay,” she said into the phone.“You’re sure?… Right.I understand.Keep me updated.”

She ended the call, placing the phone on the coffee table with a hollow-sounding click.Finn stroked her arm gently.“They identified the woman?”

A slow, pained nod.“Yes.She’s the sister of one of the prison guards—Shankland—who oversaw Wendell Reed’s transfer when he escaped.That’s how Wendell must have singled her out.A personal vendetta.”

Finn let out a low whistle, shock mingling with anger.“He’s targeting people linked to his captivity.He must be sending a message about the guard.”

Amelia ran a hand over her face.“I can’t fathom the cruelty.Her only crime was being related to Shankland.God.”She stared at the dark TV screen, reflection of her own troubled face partially visible.

Finn placed his hand on hers, lacing their fingers together.“I’m sorry, Amelia.

She took a shuddering breath, leaning closer into him.“Me too,” she murmured.“But if this is how Wendell operates, then it’s bigger than just me.We have to stop him.”

Finn nodded solemnly.“We will.One step at a time.”

They shared a silent moment, broken only by the distant hum of the TV’s static.Then Finn reached for the remote, switching the set off entirely.The candlelight threw warm shapes on Amelia’s features, highlighting the resolve in her eyes despite her weariness.

“You want to turn in?”he asked quietly.“It’s been a long day.”

She squeezed his hand.“Yes, please.Tomorrow’s not going to be any easier.But… tonight has helped.”

He offered a faint smile, kissing her temple.“Come on, let’s go.”

He helped her off the couch, blowing out the candles in the living area.They stepped toward the bedroom, arms around each other for support.For a fleeting instant, the hush of the cottage felt almost normal, a peaceful sanctuary against the encroaching darkness outside.

But both of them knew that dawn would bring fresh battles.Wendell Reed’s monstrous cruelty, the twisted art-murders, the potential for more innocent victims—none of that vanished with the night.Even so, for a few more hours at least, they had each other’s warmth and comfort, a small island of solace amid the storm.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Amelia woke to the soft, pale light of early morning filtering through the cottage's small windows.Outside, she could hear a low hum of birdsong, but it still felt chilly—spring hadn't truly taken hold.She slipped out of bed quietly so as not to disturb Finn, only to find he wasn't in bed at all.The covers on his side were thrown back, and faint sounds of movement drifted from the cottage's kitchen area.A pang of relief passed through her as she realized he must have woken before her—she'd been so exhausted last night.

She stretched, rolling her shoulders, then carefully brushed her hair into a neat ponytail.Her reflection in the small mirror showed tired eyes, the result of too many restless nights worrying about Wendell Reed and his every brutal move.But there was no time to dwell on that; she had a scheduled call.Slipping on a comfortable sweater and jeans, she made her way out into the open living space.

The cottage was always inviting in the morning, with beams across the low ceiling and a snug dining nook where a small wooden table stood against the wall.She found Finn in the adjoining kitchen area, hair damp from a shower, rummaging through a cupboard for something.He wore a crisp shirt and dark trousers, a little more formal than usual, likely an outfit for another day spent with Doctor Eleanor Matthews and the art murder investigation.

“You’re up,” he said, turning toward Amelia with a grin.His blond hair was still beaded with water at the tips.

She smiled, gave a quick nod, while reading a text.Then, she stepped into the dining nook to set up her laptop on the small table.“McNeil has organized an interview.I have a call with Shankland in about ten minutes,” she explained.“He’s—” She paused, swallowing.“He’s the prison guard whose sister Wendell murdered.”

A shadow flickered across Finn's expression.He set down a mug he was holding."Right," he said quietly."You sure you're up for this?"

Amelia managed a small smile.“I have to be.”She untangled her laptop charger and plugged it in.“Shankland was told about his sister during the night.He wants to speak to me personally—maybe share any details that might help us track Wendell.”

Finn moved to her side, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder.“If it gets overwhelming, call me in.Or… well, I’ll be leaving soon, but maybe just message me.”

She set the laptop on the table, trying to ignore her nerves.“Sure.Let’s see what he’s willing to say.”

He leaned closer, narrowing his eyes at her hair.“You just woke up.Your hair’s all neat already?”

She laughed, a soft sound.“I brushed it, unlike you.You look half like you’ve been dunked in a fountain.”

Finn smirked and ran a hand through his damp hair.“I’m going for the businessman by day, surfer by night look,” he joked, slipping on a pair of sunglasses that had been resting on the windowsill.“What do you think?”

Her smile widened.She reached up, ruffling the wet strands.“I think it’s still wet.And you’re about as far from a surfer as Great Amwell is from Malibu.”

He chuckled, then gently rested his hand against her cheek.“Will you be okay?Talking to Shankland, dealing with all this again?”

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