Page 48 of When You're Lost

Finn scowled.“Where is David now?”

Mary shook her head.“I—I don’t know.He left earlier, said he had errands.But he was furious about Harrison’s forgeries.He’s been furious for weeks.”

Eleanor exhaled, anger flaring.“So we may have pegged the wrong suspect when we suspected you, Mary.But you still participated in covering up the forgeries.We can’t ignore that.”

Mary nodded tearfully.“I know.But I swear, I’m not the murderer.If David’s behind the killings, please stop him.Stop him from hurting anyone else.”

Finn motioned for her to stay put.“We’re going to find Harrison right now.There’s enough to arrest him for forging paintings, blackmail, and more.Maybe we can glean David’s whereabouts from him.Meanwhile, Mary, you’re under arrest for involvement in the forgeries until we sort this out.”

Mary looked ready to protest, but before she could, Eleanor stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on her arm.“We’ll sort it out.But for your own safety, you’re not free to roam.If David is the killer, you might be in danger, or you might be implicated further.You understand?”

Mary grimaced, nodding.“Yes,” she whispered.

Finn signaled for her to stand.“Come with us.We’ll keep you in custody.But first, let’s deal with Harrison.”

Leading Mary out of the small office, they traversed a corridor that opened into the gallery’s main wing.The overhead lights had dimmed further with the approach of night.Each step echoed across the marble floor, painting a tense soundscape.

They turned a corner where a sign read “Private Offices—Harrison Blackthorn, Director.”A single light glowed beneath the closed door.Finn’s pulse quickened; here was the heart of the forging operation, and possibly the next piece in the killer’s plan.He signaled for Mary to stay back, while he and Eleanor approached.

The door was slightly ajar.Inside, they heard faint rustling sounds.Finn exchanged a glance with Eleanor, preparing for a confrontation.They stepped in quietly, finding Harrison behind his ornate wooden desk.He wore a sleek suit, tie loosened as though he’d been working late.On the desk in front of him, a plain cardboard package sat partially unwrapped.Harrison looked up sharply, noting Mary trailing behind Finn and Eleanor.

“What the devil is this?”he demanded, eyes raking over Mary in confusion.“What are you all doing here at this hour?”

Finn advanced, calm but firm.“Harrison Blackthorn, we’re placing you under arrest for your involvement in art forgeries, fraud, and potentially for abetting murder.”He drew out a pair of handcuffs.

Harrison’s face flushed.“Are you insane?You have no right—”

Eleanor cut him off, voice cool.“We have more than enough grounds to bring you in, Harrison.We know about the forged Jan Griffier piece in your private office, about your threats to Ely Abrams.”

A flicker of shock passed over Harrison’s face.“Ely told you?”His eyes darted to Mary, who stood pale and trembling behind Finn.“And you, Mary, you betrayed me?”

Mary couldn’t muster a reply; she only shrank back as Harrison’s eyes blazed with anger.

Finn circled around the desk, noting a half-open parcel.Plain brown paper half torn away.A chill of warning etched through his soul.Something was off.“What’s in that package, Harrison?”he demanded.

Harrison lifted it warily.“I don’t know.It was waiting for me when I got here,” he snapped, ripping more of the wrapping.“Some kind of worthless—”

Suddenly, Finn’s heart lurched in alarm.He spotted a faint LED beneath the partially removed paper.Finn had seen such improvised devices before.

“No!”he shouted, lunging forward with outstretched hands.

But it was too late.Harrison had already flipped the remainder of the wrapper aside, revealing a small contraption wired with a battery and chemicals.In a single second of awful silence, the LED blinked from green to red.Finn crashed into Harrison, trying to knock the package away.

A thunderous boom erupted, drowning all sense of time.A bright flash of fire and force tore through the office, blasting the desk into shards and sending Finn hurtling backward.Deafening ringing filled his ears, the shock wave hammering his chest.

He barely registered shards of glass and wood raining around him.The room spun in chaos—light, noise, and debris swirling in a moment that felt both infinite and instantaneous.He heard Eleanor’s scream, muffled by the detonation.Mary’s cry somewhere off to the side.Smoke churned in the air, acrid and suffocating.Fire alarms shrilled, echoing distantly in the roar.

The shock of impact slammed Finn against the wall, pain jolting through his back.He fought to focus, vision blurred by swirling dust and flickering flames.His last coherent thought as the explosion’s aftermath crackled around him was raw, desperate fear.Another painting had come to life in the worst way possible, the great fire of London—and now, trapped in this fiery blast, they were all at the killer’s mercy.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Finn woke to a world of swirling smoke and throbbing pain.The roar of flames sounded muffled, as though he were underwater.Every breath tasted of ash, each gulp of air scorching his throat.Spots of bright, dancing embers clouded his vision.Slowly, he forced his eyes to focus on the chaos unfolding around him.

Something burned only a few feet away—a wooden bookcase, spitting orange sparks.The acrid stench of chemicals stung Finn’s nose, and he realized it must be the remnants of that bomb-laced package.His ears still rang from the blast.The shattered remains of Harrison's office lay strewn in every direction—splintered furniture, twisted metal from what used to be a desk lamp, charred shreds of paper fluttering like wounded birds through the haze.Harrison himself had all but been vaporized by the blast.

He tried to rise, but his ribs felt like someone had hammered them.Groaning, he pushed onto his elbows.“Eleanor?”he called, voice raw, searching frantically through the shifting smoke for any sign of her.A second later, her form emerged, doubled over, coughing as she stumbled closer.

“I’m here,” Eleanor managed, hand pressed to her side.Her jacket had a tear at the sleeve, but otherwise, she appeared intact.“Finn, are you—?”

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