Page 44 of When You're Lost

They lingered, the corridor bustling with officers passing by.Voices drifted from other rooms—suspects, victims, all manner of police business.Time stretched painfully, each second a reminder that the killer could be finalizing the next murder.

Finally, Finn checked his watch.“All right,” he said softly, turning back to the interview room door.“Let’s do this.”

They re-entered the room.Gerard's solicitor stood beside his client, arms folded."We're prepared to cooperate," he said, though his tone suggested reluctance."But only if the Crown offers a deal regarding charges.If we deliver names, we want a lesser sentence."

Finn resisted the urge to roll his eyes.“We can discuss that with the CPS.Right now, we need to know who’s forging these paintings.That’s our priority.”

Gerard swallowed, then let out a slow breath.“Fine.I’ll give you what I know.But trust me, it’s not just one guy or gal.There’s a whole ring of them—at least twenty artists working in secret studios.They replicate artworks to near perfection, then swap them out under cover of legitimate shipping.All above my pay grade, but I get a cut for letting them store the crates in my warehouse.”

Eleanor’s jaw clenched, absorbing the revelation.“Twenty forgers?That’s a huge operation.We need names.”

The solicitor gestured.“They’ll have them as soon as the deal is signed.We’re not turning them over for free.”

Finn narrowed his eyes.“We’ll see about that.But we’ll start drafting the paperwork with the prosecutors.In the meantime, you’ll remain in custody.Understood?”

Gerard nodded, eyes flicking away.

Sighing, Finn closed the file on the table.“All right.We’ll make arrangements.Let’s go, Eleanor.”

They exited the interview room, leaving Gerard and his solicitor behind.Once in the corridor, Finn shut the door gently, relief and frustration mingling in his chest.“So we’ll have to wait a day or so for them to finalize an agreement,” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

Eleanor offered a grim nod.“Yes.Meanwhile, we don’t know if the person who’s orchestrating these murders is potentially one of those twenty forgers.The killer might be someone else connected to the ring, or a victim of it.Someone who bought an expensive dud, for example, or some middleman who never got paid for being involved and wants revenge.”

Finn paused by a bulletin board lined with mugshots."I had a thought: maybe it's not the forgers themselves killing people.Possibly, it's someone who discovered the truth about the forgeries, or was involved in verifying them, or ironically trying to hide them.Revenge or fear of exposure, something along those lines."

Eleanor’s eyes flickered with realization.“True.But who else might be involved in the process besides the shippers and the forgers?Who…" She toyed with the end of her sleeve."Hang on!We're looking at this the wrong way round.Who are thevictims?Victoria Palmer was specifically asked to authenticateThe Cornfield.She found something off—remember they argued?Was she killed because she knew the painting was fake?”

Finn snapped his fingers, epiphany sparking.“Yes!And the second victim, Edmund Garner, also had dealings with the gallery.Townsend, the third victim, too.Could be all of them discovered the paintings were forgeries at some point.And the killer needed them silenced.”

Eleanor frowned.“But who else authenticated the paintings?It can’t just be Victoria Palmer in every case.”

“Exactly.”Finn yanked out his phone, pressing speed dial for the Blackthorn Gallery.“Let’s see if we can confirm who handled authentication for some of the other works we’ve found.If it’s the same person that worked on the paintings connected to the case, that’s a direct lead.”

Eleanor nodded.“Yes.That’s a good angle.”

After a couple rings, a male voice answered.“Blackthorn Gallery, David Smythe speaking.”

“David, it’s Finn Wright, the consultant working with the Met on the murder case,” Finn said, glancing at Eleanor.“I need to know: for the paintings suspected of being fakes, who authenticated them besides Victoria Palmer?Do you keep records of that?”

David’s voice wavered.“Um, yes, we do keep records, but we can’t release—”

"Murders, David," Finn cut him off firmly."We're dealing with a serial killer.Either help us, or we'll get a warrant.Who's the authenticator?"

A flustered pause.“Okay, okay.I see… We had a second authenticator for two of the suspicious paintings—Ely Abrams.He’s an independent specialist the gallery sometimes hires.”

Finn shot Eleanor a triumphant look.“Thank you, David.Text me his contact details.This might be critical.”

David hesitated.“Sure, I’ll do it now.Good luck.”

Finn ended the call, exhaling."We've got a name: Ely Abrams.Another authenticator, possibly the one who verified or flagged these paintings as forgeries.He might be a target, or he might have answers."

Eleanor’s eyes sparked with renewed purpose.“Then let’s find Ely Abrams.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Finn eyed the patchy dark sky, a tapestry of slate-gray clouds, as he and Eleanor Matthews left their parked car on a narrow Tottenham street in North London.The oncoming night tinted the air with a faded hue; the lingering chill of March made everything seem colder than it was.Across the road, a row of old brick houses stood in neat lines—some well-kept, some in states of decline.In front of the third house, paint peeled around the windows, and a leaning fence swayed in the occasional gust of wind.

“This is it,” Finn said quietly, checking the address on a small notepad he carried.“Ely Abrams’s place.”A wave of anxious energy pulsed through him.

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