Page 46 of When You're Lost

Ely’s breath quivered.“I only know that, initially, for that exhibition, one set of masterpiece forgeries was made, maybe half a dozen.They were swapped out in secret and displayed in the gallery, while the real ones were sold privately.But there’s one more from that set—still in Harrison’s possession.”He paused, eyes flicking to Eleanor.“It’s a Jan Griffier piece.The Great Fire of London.He kept it in his private office, away from prying eyes.”

Eleanor’s eyebrows rose.“The Great Fire of London?That painting is quite famous, known for depicting the city ablaze in 1666.Are you sure he has a forgery of it?”

Ely gave a hollow nod.“Yes.I recognized immediately what was going on with it.I only did a quick check, but it’s definitely not the original.He told me Mary Whitmore was the only other person who knew about it.She’s his assistant, or something more, I’m not sure.She asked me to keep quiet.She looked scared, too.I think she's in on it.”

Finn’s mind raced.Another painting possibly connected to the killer’s pattern.If the killer used each forged painting as inspiration for a murder, that meant whoever was next might be staged like someone from the Great Fire scene.The thought churned his stomach.“We have to stop this.You said Mary Whitmore knows about the forgery.Where is she now?”

Ely shrugged helplessly."No idea.She's often at the gallery or doing personal errands for Harrison.She might even know more about the forging ring, about who physically produced them.I just know she's aware it's a fake."

Eleanor took a step forward, voice gentle.“Listen, Ely.We need your testimony, your knowledge.If we can prove Harrison threatened you, we can unravel his entire operation.Let us get you into protective custody.”

Ely sagged, tears glinting in his eyes.“You can’t guarantee my safety.Harrison’s people are everywhere.”

Finn placed a steady hand on Ely’s shoulder.“We can’t guarantee anything, but we won’t let you face this alone.We can arrange secure lodging.The Home Office can protect crucial witnesses, especially in a murder investigation.”

Silence hovered, broken only by the scuttling of something in the eaves.Ely swallowed and finally nodded.“All right,” he whispered.“If it stops more people from dying, I’ll talk.Just… keep me safe.”

Eleanor exhaled relief.“We will.Thank you.”

Ely looked down at the dusty attic floor, overwhelmed.“The Jan Griffier forgery is definitely in Harrison’s office, behind a locked display case.Mary was worried someone would find out.She confided in me once, said she feared losing her job or worse.She also mentioned that the real painting was apparently sold off to some collector overseas.”

Finn jotted notes in a small pad.“We’ll see about verifying that.In the meantime, gather what you need here.We’ll put you under watch.”

Ely gave a shaky nod, brushing dust off his shirt.“All right.Let’s… let’s get out of this place.”

Downstairs, they helped Ely pack a small bag of essentials.The tension in the house felt suffocating, as though each window might conceal watchers.Eventually, they stepped out into the cold late-afternoon light.Finn used his phone to call for a support vehicle from the constabulary, someone to pick Ely up discreetly.While waiting, they hovered near the battered fence.

When the unmarked police car arrived, two plainclothes officers emerged, nodding at Finn in recognition.The hand-off was quick.One officer offered Ely an encouraging pat on the arm, then ushered him into the backseat.Ely forced a thin smile at Finn and Eleanor through the half-lowered window.

“I’ll do what I can,” Ely said, voice quavering.“You just catch whoever’s behind these murders.”

“We will,” Finn promised, stepping back.The car pulled away, leaving him and Eleanor on the sidewalk, the wind scuttling dried leaves around their feet.

Eleanor breathed out, relief mingling with a fresh wave of urgency.“So the Great Fire of London forgery is the most recent piece we know about.If this killer is replicating each painting in a gruesome murder, that might be the stage for their next crime.But there could be many more forgeries he’ll use as the basis for more death.”

Finn nodded, tucking his phone into his jacket.“And Mary Whitmore is the only other person who knows, according to Ely.If Harrison suspects she might reveal the truth, Mary could be next on the killer’s list.We have to find her.”

Eleanor pressed her lips together, glancing at the sky.The sky was almost completely.“Time isn’t on our side.Whoever’s staging these murders has escalated quickly—three victims in short succession.We can’t risk a fourth.”

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Finn could feel a chill creeping in as he pulled his coat tighter around him.It was late evening, and the day’s light had fully slipped into darkness, save for the neon glow of passing traffic and streetlamps reflecting off the black asphalt.His breath came in visible puffs.Next to him, Eleanor walked briskly, her heels tapping urgently on the sidewalk.

They approached the Blackthorn Gallery with foreboding.The glass facade that usually displayed bright posters and artistic spotlights had been dimmed—shadows dominated the interior, suggesting that only minimal security lighting was on.A single lamp illuminated the door, painting the entrance in stark relief against the gloom.

Finn paused at the entrance, hand on the door’s brass handle.“Ready?”he asked softly, his breath misting the glass.

Eleanor gave a tense nod, pressing her lips together.“Do we approach Mary or Harrison first?”

“Mary,” Finn answered.“She has an emotional connection to Harrison, which has probably been used to manipulate her, and I feel like if we push, she might crack.”

Finn exhaled, mind flashing to the conversation with Amelia earlier that day—Amelia had gone off hunting Wendell Reed, leaving Finn and Eleanor to handle the forging ring's suspects.Now, the evidence pointed straight to Mary Whitmore.Their last few days of investigating had led to this moment: confronting Mary about Ely Abram's confession tying her and Harrison to the forging ring, and possibly the murders.

He turned the handle.It gave, and the door slid open with surprising ease—unlocked.A fresh wave of apprehension curled in his stomach.“Strange that they wouldn’t lock up,” he murmured, stepping into the hushed reception area.

The gallery’s main lobby lay dim, just a few overhead lights casting elongated shadows on the polished floors.Rows of sculptures and modern art pieces loomed in half-silhouette.The hush was heavy, as though the building were holding its breath.

“Mary?”Eleanor called quietly, her voice carrying through the emptiness.

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