Page 43 of When You're Lost

Amelia sensed a flicker of disappointment in Eleanor’s eyes.She held up a conciliatory hand.“Not in place of you—just with you.We can tackle him together, the three of us.I’m sure you both already have your dynamic.”

Eleanor’s posture eased.“That… yes.That sounds good.”She seemed on the verge of saying something else when Amelia’s phone rang, the shrill tone echoing down the corridor.

Amelia pulled it out quickly.“Winters,” she answered, stepping aside.A short pause, then her eyes widened.“He’s been sighted?Where?”Another pause, and she let out a sharp exhale.“On my way.”

She hung up, turning to Finn.“They’ve just spotted Wendell Reed near Loughton.I need to go—could be our only chance to apprehend him.”

Finn gently squeezed her hand, a moment of silent support.“Stay safe.If you corner him, don’t take risks.”He locked eyes with her, fighting the urge to demand she wait for extra backup.But he knew Amelia well enough—she’d never slow her pursuit of Reed.

Amelia’s grip tightened.“I’ll be careful,” she promised.“Knock Gerard around a bit for me, all right?”With a final nod to Eleanor, she spun on her heel and strode briskly down the hall, disappearing past the double doors.

A beat of silence lingered.Finn exhaled, still feeling the faint sting in his head, but also anxious about Amelia’s chase.He forced himself to refocus.“Shall we?”he said, gesturing at the interview room door.

Eleanor squared her shoulders.“Yes, let’s see if Gerard wants to talk about the forgeries.”

Inside Interview Room 3, the walls were a dull beige, and a large mirror glinted on one side—obviously the observation window for any watchers.A small metal table and three chairs occupied the center of the room.Gerard Philips, the stocky man who seemed to be pulling the strings at the warehouse, sat with his arms crossed.A solicitor in a neat gray suit perched beside him, carefully reading some documents.

Finn and Eleanor entered, the door clicking shut behind them.Finn stepped forward, placing a slim file on the table.“Gerard Philips, just to keep everything official considering we have already met under the worst of circumstances, I’m Finn Wright, consultant detective working with the Met.This is Dr.Eleanor Matthews, who’s assisting us on an ongoing murder investigation.”

Gerard flicked his gaze between them, a spark of defiance in his eyes.“You’re the ones who crashed our warehouse and assaulted my men.Makes sense you’re not real police—just some half measure.”

Eleanor shot Finn a warning look but kept her voice steady."We're authorized by the Home Office.You know that.So, let's not waste time with insults.You're in hot water after trying to have us killed."

Finn took a seat across from Gerard, motioning for Eleanor to sit beside him.The solicitor folded his arms, glaring.“My client is here under protest,” the solicitor said.“We’ll be making a formal complaint about your conduct at the warehouse and assaulting his men.”

Finn leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.“That’s your right.But let’s talk about the reason we were there in the first place: forged paintings stored on your premises.We found a crate containing fakes.Care to explain?”

Gerard smirked, adjusting the collar of his shirt.“Don’t know anything about that.I run a legitimate shipping business.”

Eleanor let out a calm breath.“Gerard, we’re aware your warehouse has ties to an illicit operation forging and swapping out genuine artworks.We also have reason to believe these forgeries tie into three murders—where victims were posed to replicate famous paintings.”

The solicitor cleared his throat.“This is speculation.Unless you have conclusive evidence, my client denies any wrongdoing.”

Finn’s voice turned steely.“We do have evidence.We have the forgeries at the warehouse, and your veiled threats, followed up by Frankie Govan trying to shoot us.Enough to charge you with attempted murder, at least.You attacked us with lethal force.You're going away for years.”

Gerard’s eyes narrowed.“I never told anyone to shoot you.If some guard got overzealous, that’s not my fault.”

“Right,” Finn said, letting the sarcasm drip.“You specifically requested Frankie Govan to tie up loose ends.”

The solicitor bristled.“We’ll see about that.My client will not be answering any further questions.It’s highly irregular that his accusers should be the interviewers.We demand the interview be processed by someone who isn't directly involved.”

Finn exhaled through his nose.“I see.So no discussion about who’s forging these paintings?Who’s behind the operation?Because let me remind you: if we link these forgeries to homicide, you’re an accessory.”

Eleanor spoke up, voice controlled but urgent.“Gerard, people have been murdered in connection with these fakes.If you withhold information, you’re complicit.The Crown might offer a reduced sentence if you cooperate.But if you stay silent and more people die, the consequences could be severe.”

“We can give you a deal if you give us information,” Finn said.

Gerard’s jaw tightened.He shot the solicitor a look.The solicitor said blandly, “Let me speak with my client in private.”

Finn looked between them, then at Eleanor.He nodded.“Fine.Five minutes.”He and Eleanor stood, stepping out into the corridor, letting the door close.

In the hallway, Eleanor inhaled sharply.“He’s stonewalling us.If he doesn’t name the forger, we’re back to square one.But his solicitor knows he's going down one way or another.”

Finn rubbed the back of his neck, the bruise flaring a little.“Let’s hope he’s not just bluffing.If these murders keep escalating, we need a name—someone forging these classics, someone with access to the real paintings.It might be how the killer is picking targets.”

Eleanor’s expression darkened.“Yes.And if we can’t get that info from Gerard, we have no leads.Unless Blackthorn or someone else flips.”

Finn set a hand on the doorknob.“Let’s give them their five minutes.After that, we’ll see if the threat of prison time breaks him.”

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