Page 23 of When You're Lost

Finn didn’t answer.They navigated through the crowd, weaving past displays of modern sculptures and a few recognizable prints of British masters.The clink of glasses and low laughter momentarily masked their approach.Still, as soon as Harrison’s gaze landed on Finn’s face, the gallery owner stiffened.He mumbled something to his companions, then took a step back, scowling.

“Mr.Blackthorn,” Finn said, voice calm yet firm.“We need a word.”

Harrison’s jaw tightened.“You again.I’ve already answered your questions, and I’m hosting an event.Must you keep harassing me?”

Eleanor interjected with measured civility, “Three people are dead, each staged in grotesque references to famous paintings.All three victims had links to you and your gallery.We have cause to suspect—”

“Rubbish,” Harrison snapped, hushing his tone so the nearby guests wouldn’t overhear.“I told you—someone’s trying to connect me to these murders.I’m as much a potential victim as anyone.Why can’t you leave me alone?”

Finn squared his shoulders.“We’d like you to come to the station for further questioning.”

Harrison’s eyes narrowed.“During the most important exhibition of our calendar year?Absolutely not!I have important clients, important pieces to unveil.If you want to talk, schedule something tomorrow with Mary.”

Eleanor spoke softly, “We can’t wait.This is urgent.Professor Daniel Townsend has been killed.”

“Daniel?Well, that's a damned shame.But it has nothing to do with me!”Harrison’s face flushed with anger.He spun on his heel, striding away through the crowd.“I’ve had enough of this,” he muttered under his breath.“Leave me alone.”

Finn shot a look at Eleanor.“He’s panicking,” he said quietly.“Let’s not cause a scene.I’ll follow him.It looks like he's heading for that doorway.”

They slipped through the throng, trying not to shove guests aside.Harrison moved fast, heading toward a roped-off area that likely led to the gallery’s back rooms, where employees prepared exhibits.A sign reading STAFF ONLY dangled from a cord.He ducked under the rope, glancing back once with wild eyes.Finn quickened his pace, ignoring the startled murmurs of onlookers.

“Mary!”Harrison called, spotting his assistant across the room.She was in a corner, speaking to another staff member.But she only managed to look up as Harrison disappeared into the restricted corridor.Finn caught Mary’s eye, a fleeting moment of confusion on her face, before she returned to her conversation.

Eleanor stayed at Finn’s heels, but the corridor was narrow and cluttered with crates and canvases leaning against the walls.The overhead lights buzzed softly, leaving pockets of shadow along the way.The swirling sound of violin music and chatting faded, replaced by echoing footsteps.

“Harrison, stop!”Finn shouted, voice echoing.“We only need to talk with you!”

From up ahead, Harrison’s footsteps pounded louder, ignoring Finn’s demand.The corridor twisted, leading into a larger storage area.Row upon row of statues, half-draped in protective sheets, formed a forest of white, eerie shapes in the dim light.Crates labeled FRAGILE and DO NOT OPEN lined the walls.The air smelled of old paint and polish.

“Damn,” Finn muttered, pushing aside a large crate.“Why is there always something in the way?”

Eleanor, breath coming in shorter puffs, tried to keep up.“He’s… definitely not acting innocent,” she managed.

They heard a clatter as Harrison apparently knocked over something in his haste.Finn peered around a statue of a robed figure and spotted Harrison’s silhouette darting past a row of tall marble columns, presumably old exhibit pieces.The gloom made it hard to see, shadows distorting everything.

“I think you should head back into the hall,” Finn said.

“I'll stay for now.”

“Stay close, then...”Finn whispered to Eleanor, though he realized that her ability to keep pace might be limited.He pressed on, weaving between dusty artworks.One statue of a Grecian woman loomed, arms outstretched, making the passage feel eerily claustrophobic.

Eleanor trailed behind, pausing momentarily when she nearly knocked over a bust on a crate.“I can’t see where I’m— Finn?”

He’d already moved ahead, spotting a flash of Harrison’s navy suit near the far corner.“This way,” he called back quietly.

As he entered the next section, the corridor branched in two directions.A faint scraping noise came from the left, followed by hurried footsteps.Finn chose left, diving past a trolley of rolled canvases.The tension soared—he pictured Harrison careening through the labyrinth of back rooms, desperate to escape.If the man had nothing to hide, why run?

There was a crash from around the bend.Finn raced to the corner and glimpsed a door labeled DELIVERIES.It swung shut with a soft thud."Got you," Finn muttered, pushing it open.

Beyond was a short hallway leading to the gallery's back door—an exit presumably used for loading big art pieces.Fresh nighttime air filtered in, suggesting Harrison had managed to unlock it.Indeed, the heavy door now stood ajar, a sliver of moonlight illuminating the loading bay outside.

Finn burst through.The small cement landing was lit by a single overhead security lamp.Stacks of wooden pallets and metal bins lined one side.No sign of Harrison at first.Then Finn heard scuffling steps—someone running.

“Finn?Finn, where are you?”Eleanor’s voice carried from inside, but he had no time to wait.He slipped out the door.A glimpse of motion at the corner of the building told him Harrison was trying to circle around.Finn sprinted across the concrete, boots slapping loudly.

In the distance, a security fence loomed, topped with barbed wire.Past it lay a narrow alley.A clank echoed as Harrison evidently tried to slip out the side gate.Finn lunged around a stack of pallets, scanning.For a moment, he thought Harrison had vanished.Then he heard a faint “Ow!”followed by a pained hiss.

“Harrison?”Finn shouted, rounding a rusted metal bin.No response but a scraping sound of shoes against gravel.Another pained groan.

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