Page 4 of When You're Lost

Finn snorted softly.“Half will have to do.”

"Of course," Rob said lightly."In fact, she's probably three-quarters of the dream team.But I'll make do with the remaining quarter if it means we can solve this murder quickly."He paused, as if giving Finn a moment to protest.

“All right, that’s enough,” Finn teased.“Keep your granddad jokes to yourself.Send me the details, and I’ll head out.Might as well keep myself busy.”

A quiet moment passed, then Rob added more gently, “She’ll be fine, you know.Amelia, I mean.”

Finn swallowed a tinge of worry.“Yeah.She’s capable of handling anything, but Wendell is… personal to her.I just want to be sure.”

“You always do,” Rob said in a tone that suggested he understood all the unspoken weight behind Finn’s words.“Let me email you everything on Victoria Palmer’s murder, and we’ll coordinate from there.Take care, mate.”

“Thanks, Rob,” Finn said, ending the call.

He lingered on the bench, phone still in hand.A breeze stirred, rippling the surface of the lake.It was as if the water's gentle motion mirrored the unsettled feeling in his chest.He had grown so used to Amelia's presence whenever a new case came knocking—her sharp insight, her calm approach.Now, he'd be delving into a homicide alone.The last time he'd worked solo, he'd ended up in more trouble than he cared to recount.

He took one last moment to collect his thoughts, staring at the water as it lapped against the low bank.“Idle hands,” he murmured, recalling an old saying.Then, with a wry grin, he finished it, his voice subdued in the cool air.“Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”

He started up the path towards his car as the morning air seemed to fall more silent than it had any right to.

CHAPTER TWO

Finn pulled his red Corvette to a halt on the dirt shoulder outside the low stone wall of Victoria Palmer’s cottage.The engine rumbled for a moment before settling into silence.Beyond the wall, a small Cotswolds house nestled amid bare shrubs and leafless trees, the early spring sunlight illuminating a pair of uniformed police officers stationed at the entrance.Yellow forensic tape fluttered in a mild breeze.It all looked so incongruous—a quaint rural setting turned into a murder scene.

He stepped out of the car, pushing the door shut with a squeak.Rob stood on the gravel path, thick coat pulled tight over his Chief Constable’s uniform, arms crossed.A mild tension lay in the tilt of his head; he always got that look when the watchful eyes of the Home Office were involved.Finn forced a wry grin, approaching him.

“You don’t look happy to see me,” Finn remarked, glancing around at the cluster of police vehicles and a forensics van.It seemed half the local constabulary had converged.

“It's nothing, just the Home Office on my back,” Rob replied, but his expression contradicted the words.He rubbed the back of his neck.“Walk with me.”

They headed up a short flagstone walkway.Finn noticed fresh footprints overlapping older ones—some from the forensics team, presumably.He frowned, but Rob’s voice drew his attention away.

“The Home Office is aware Amelia’s on the Wendell Reed task force,” Rob began.“They’d hoped to have you two working together on this case.”

Finn shrugged.“Why’s that an issue?Amelia’s obviously tied up, so they’ve got me.They’ll just have to accept it.”

Rob sighed, pausing before a closed wooden gate that led from the front garden to the rear.“They claim you work best with a partner.They… want to ensure you’re not going lone wolf.”

Finn clapped a hand on Rob’s shoulder.“Excellent!Old buddy, it’ll be like our college days—roommates investigating all over again.”

Rob smirked but shook his head.“Unfortunately, I’m not your partner.The Home Office has sent someone else—she’s already arrived, actually.Doctor Eleanor Matthews.”

Finn arched an eyebrow."Doctor, huh?I best find my professor spectacles to outrank her,"

“She’s an expert in British and European art,” Rob clarified.“Victoria Palmer was well known among the upper echelons—worked with the Royal Family on their private art collections.This might not be just a random murder.Doctor Matthews is here because there’s an art connection.”

Finn made a face, stepping aside as two forensic techs rushed by with evidence bags.“So what you’re saying is I’m babysitting an art historian while Amelia isn’t here?”

Rob shrugged.“Something like that.But apparently, she’s got talents worth tapping into.Use her expertise.She's a polymath.”

Finn exhaled.“All right then.Let’s meet this brilliant scholar.”He tipped his head at the gate.“Lead the way.”

They navigated past more uniformed officers and stepped through into the cottage’s rear garden.Immediately, Finn saw the tidy lawn, the tall hedgerows, and an unfinished painting set on an easel.Despite the presence of more forensic tape and a few scuffed boot prints, the place looked tranquil—like it had a few hours ago, maybe, when Victoria was likely alive and painting.The bright colors on the canvas contrasted sharply with the grim reality of a homicide.

He surveyed the painting: a partial depiction of the yard, including the hedges and an old iron gate in the background.Whoever had started it was clearly skilled—the brushstrokes near the sky were detailed, though the rest was still incomplete.

"Where's the body?"Finn asked, noticing there was no white-sheeted form.Instead, a small patch of dark discoloration drew his attention in the lane beyond the garden's boundaries.It looked like dried blood but was only partially visible through the rear iron gate, the rest of the lane cut off from view by the tall hedgerows.

Rob gave Finn a meaningful look.“If only the body were here, it’d be simpler.”

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