Page 36 of When You're Broken
Clint nodded.“And a body.Not Renfield, but from the ID, we believe it was Stanley Peterson’s brother.The poor man must’ve been taken there by Wendell.Who knows how he kidnapped him.The basement there matches details from the photograph sent to Stanley, so Wendell definitely used that location.But it looks deserted now.Forensics found the place had been covered in bleach.Wendell might have left the phone there on purpose, or it could have been an accident.We’re not sure yet.”
Amelia’s shoulders slumped, defeat creeping into her stance.“Let’s hope it’s an accident, as it might mean he’s getting sloppy as the pressure rises...So Wendell’s obviously moved on.He won’t just stay put in a place he knows we can trace.It’s a dead end.”
Clint offered a regretful nod.“For the moment, yes.I’m sorry.That’s all we got.But I thought you’d want to know.”He hesitated, then lowered his voice.“Please don’t tell McNeill I told you.He’s keeping some intel hush-hush, not wanting you two to get involved again.But I owe it to you.You deserve the truth.”
Finn and Amelia exchanged a glance.Finn’s chest felt tight with frustration.So close, yet still behind Wendell’s movements.“Thank you,” Finn said, meeting Clint’s gaze.“We appreciate it.”
Clint shifted from foot to foot.“I guess that’s all I can do.If anything changes, I’ll pass it on.But I can’t promise how soon.”He turned to go, but paused at the door, looking back.“Just—hang in there.Don’t lose faith.”
Amelia forced a nod, her voice thick.“Thanks.”
Clint slipped out, and the door clicked shut behind him.For a moment, neither Finn nor Amelia moved, the hush weighed down by the revelation: if Wendell had used that abandoned shopping center, he’d likely also relocated.Meanwhile, Brendan’s fate remained unknown.
Amelia rubbed her forehead.“If Brendan wasn’t there, that means Wendell either killed him or moved him somewhere else.We’re back to zero leads.”Her voice trembled with suppressed rage and grief.
Finn inhaled, searching for words.“We have to keep believing he’s alive.Wendell does these mind games—like with Kelvin Street—he wants to prolong your suffering.That might give Brendan some time.”
She stared at the drab carpeting.“I’m sick and tired of everyone telling me to hope for the best!My hopes will die in this hotel room.I can’t do this, Finn.I can’t wait like a prisoner while my brother might be tortured or… or worse.”She lifted her gaze, eyes shining.“McNeill can’t hold me.I’m not under official arrest, right?He can’t physically lock me in.”
He recognized the determination in her posture.“He placed us under protective custody.If you walk out, you’re going against direct instructions, but you’re free to do what you want.McNeill might have your job for this.”
She shook her head, tears reemerging.“Let him.He can fire me if it means my brother’s life.I’d never forgive myself for staying idle while Brendan is suffering.I have to do something.”She pivoted, one hand clenching around the handle of her small suitcase as though about to storm out.
Finn tried to reach for her arm.“Wait, Amelia, think about the risk.You saw what Wendell did to Rob.He nearly ended him.If you walk out, you’re practically offering yourself up.”
She turned, voice trembling but resolute.“You said we can’t let fear rule us.Didn’t you also say we’d do anything for each other?Then stand with me.Because I’m going to find my brother, or die trying.If he moved Brendan, maybe it was somewhere near where he was.It takes a lot to shift someone who is captive.And if Wendell’s holed up near that deserted area, I’ll start there.”
Finn studied her features, reading the fierce love that underpinned her every word.Her grief, frustration, guilt, all culminating in this unstoppable decision.He realized in that moment he had no power to hold her back.She’d run any gauntlet to reach her brother.
He swallowed, stepping to the door.He opened the door a crack, revealing the two constables on guard.Their conversation halted as he emerged partially into the hallway.
“Sorry, lads,” Finn said, forcing a casual grin that belied the tension coiled in his gut.“Looks like I’m taking my lady out tonight.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Finn maneuvered the car cautiously down the deserted road leading into Longwood, the headlights slicing through the night’s dense gloom.Overhead, the sky was starless, a heavy shroud that pressed down on the abandoned district.As they moved closer, sparse streetlamps stood like silent sentinels, their bulbs long dead or flickering, unable to offer any real guidance.Amelia sat in the passenger seat, posture stiff, face set in unwavering determination.
It was well past midnight, the hush of the city around them magnified by the emptiness of the place.No neon signs, no hum of traffic, just a sense of lost time draped over broken buildings and creeping undergrowth.
They reached a wide thoroughfare with cracked tarmac underfoot, weeds sprouting at the edges.Finn slowed, scanning for any sign that people still ventured into Longwood.He saw only a few scattered remains of street markings, faded crosswalk lines leading nowhere.The car’s engine, a steady low growl, sounded disproportionately loud in the otherwise silent night.
“Hard to believe this was once bustling,” Finn remarked softly.“A big regeneration project that never got off the ground.”
Amelia nodded, glancing out her window.“I read that after the initial push in the seventies, the council gave up by the mid-eighties.Some developers tried again in the nineties, but everything fell into disrepair eventually.”She gestured at a row of skeletal buildings, half consumed by dark silhouettes of climbing plants.“Nature always reclaims what we abandon.”
Finn followed her gaze.The so-called “Longwood” was ironically named, a cluster of half-dozen structures that had once been part of an ambitious plan: a shopping mall, a tower block of flats, a row of smaller commercial buildings.Now they stood gutted and forlorn, windows shattered or boarded up, trees and vines tangling around their entrances.The faint moonlight revealed pockets of collapsed roofs and cracked facades.
Pulling the car to a stop, he switched off the headlights, letting the darkness settle around them like a heavy blanket.He cut the engine.A hush fell, broken only by the rustle of wind through unkempt foliage.Amelia exhaled, unbuckling her seat belt.
Finn peered through the windshield.“You ready?”he asked quietly.
Amelia’s lips pressed together.“Yeah.”
They stepped out.The air struck him as colder than in the city center, carrying a tang of damp earth and rotting wood.A short distance ahead, a battered sign readLongwood Shopping Centrein peeling letters, half obscured by ivy.Police tape flapped near the entrance—remnants, presumably, from the forensics team that had come earlier.A fresh wave of frustration laced Finn's thoughts.If the task force had already searched thoroughly, there might be nothing left.Still, they had to see for themselves.
Amelia walked up to the sagging fence.The tape, luminous in reflective stripes, hung from bent poles hammered into the ground.She traced a finger over the bright "Police—Do Not Cross" label.“Looks like they sealed it off after discovering that basement.Or the body they found.They must’ve examined every inch inside.”
Finn came to stand beside her, hands in his jacket pockets.“We could go in anyway, but… the forensics team was thorough.If Wendell’s too cunning to stay behind, we won’t find new clues.”
