Page 20 of When You're Broken
Stepping to the new car Harry had provided; an unremarkable black sedan, overshadowed by the battered mall’s silhouette.He popped the trunk to confirm the bag of plates and the holdall.Satisfied, he slid into the driver’s seat, letting the ignition purr.The interior smelled like stale cigarettes, but it’d do for his purposes.
He rested the new phone on his lap, flipping open a small notepad of scrawled names.Each corresponded to someone close to Amelia, or at least tangentially connected.Wendell relished the possibilities.Terror is best served methodically,he told himself.He scanned the list: some were relatives of Amelia’s, some were old classmates.Then his gaze settled on a name that made him smirk: Rob Collins.He tapped the name with his finger.
“Ah, yes,” Wendell murmured, voice low.“They’ll never see this coming.”
CHAPTER NINE
Finn made his way through the corridor of Hertfordshire Constabulary HQ early that morning, the soles of his shoes clicking on polished tiles still damp from the janitorial crew’s round.He noted how the building always felt both too large and too cramped: wide corridors but offices packed to the brim with investigators.Sleepless eyes, fresh coffees, and the ever-present hush of urgent phone calls all said the same thing—no one could rest when Wendell Reed was still at large.
Near the end of that corridor stood the conference room used by the Wendell Reed taskforce.Its double doors remained closed, the opaque glass panels obscuring the view inside.Finn paused just before them.Dressed in his usual crisp shirt and tie, Rob hovered nearby at the closed entrance, flipping through a ring-bound folder.He looked up at Finn’s approach.
“Morning,” Rob said, not quite warmly—there was too much tension in the air for warmth—but with a friendly nod.“How’re you holding up?”
Finn sighed, pushing back a wave of residual exhaustion.“I’m all right.The bigger question is Amelia.”He forced a slight shrug.“She isn’t really talking to me.”
Rob frowned.“That bad, huh?Why the silent treatment?”
Finn glanced down, spotting a line of scuffs on the floor from some late-night trolley.“Last night, I… I told her we should maybe pack up and go to the States until Wendell’s caught.She, uh, didn’t appreciate that suggestion.”
Rob’s eyebrows rose, then he let out a quick burst of laughter, though it carried an undercurrent of sympathy.“I can imagine.She’s not exactly the type to run from a fight.”
Finn glanced toward the closed doors, not wanting anyone inside to overhear.He stepped closer to Rob, lowering his voice.“I just can’t shake the worry.She’s under so much pressure—her brother’s life in danger, Wendell determined to torment her.I keep thinking maybe we should remove ourselves from the equation.But… well, you see how that went over.”
Rob gave a tight nod.“Honestly, from a purely objective standpoint, it might not be a bad idea.The safest route for you and Amelia is to be far away, let the taskforce handle the ground search.But you know her: she’s not likely to accept it.She’s too personally involved.”
“I know.”Finn raked a hand through his hair.“But do me a favor—maybe you could be the one to talk to her about it?If it comes from you—”
Rob held up a palm, smiling ruefully.“No, no, that’d go down even worse.She’d think it’s an orchestrated attempt to sideline her.Trust me, I might outrank a few people in there, but Amelia can outrank me in stubbornness.”His expression softened.“I get your concerns, though.I do.”
Finn exhaled, letting it drop for now.“Thanks anyway.”
Rob nodded, flipping the folder closed.“Hey, changing the subject, how about you both come over to mine in a couple of nights?Eleanor said it’d be nice to see you both.She’s softened her stance on you, by the way.”
Finn’s lips twitched in amusement.“Eleanor?Softened her stance on me?That’s news.”
Rob smirked.“She might’ve used the phrase, ‘He’s not as infuriating as I thought.’She’s apparently learned some embarrassing stories from our college days—ones featuring you.I may have spun them in a pitying way.”He shrugged innocently.
Finn feigned an eye roll.“Glad my humiliations amuse her.’
Rob turned to open the conference room door.The morning hush gave way to a subdued bustle inside: a large rectangular table flanked by chairs, whiteboards crammed with scribbled notes, and a few wall-mounted screens showing satellite images or local area maps.A handful of staffers manned computers along the side, headphones on, presumably scanning phone logs or running checks.Clint looked up from a cluster of files.At the head of the table, Inspector McNeill stood, arms folded.Amelia was already there, perched next to a computer, scanning something on the screen.She raised her gaze, and Finn caught the flicker in her eyes—relief?Tension?Possibly both.
Clint came forward, extending his hand in greeting.“Finn—good to see you.I’ve been reviewing some prison records, but we’ll talk in a moment.”
Amelia gave Clint a polite handshake, murmuring a greeting.Finn followed with a quick handshake as well, offering a subdued “Good to see you, too.”
From his vantage, Finn saw McNeill watching with a hawkish glower.A tension-laden silence pulsed for a second, though he didn’t speak up.Finn, for his part, wanted to keep the atmosphere calm.He’d resolved not to push any more buttons after last night’s blow-up.
He stepped over to Amelia, noticing the tight line of her shoulders.Her hair was neatly pinned up, her jacket crisp, though there were slight shadows under her eyes.Silently, he slid a paper cup of coffee onto the table in front of her.“Peace offering,” he murmured.
She glanced at the steaming cup, then up at him.Her lips curved into a faint, tentative smile.She placed a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle rub.“Thanks, you know the way to a woman’s heart,” she said softly.Finn was glad to see that last night’s bitterness had faded.
“I’ve sent an email to my old boss at the FBI,” Finn said.“Just in case the US agencies have picked up any chatter about Wendell.”
“Good thinking,” Amelia offered.
McNeill cleared his throat loudly, bringing the group’s attention back to the front.“All right, folks.Let’s get started.We have a busy itinerary.”He recited half a dozen items quickly, referencing several constables by name.“They’ll be canvassing the neighborhood around Peterson’s address, plus anywhere Wendell Reed was last spotted on CCTV.We’re also trying to trace the emails the manager received from Wendell—perhaps we can find an IP or a proxy link.Meanwhile, we still have zero reliable lead on where Reed is keeping Brendan Wilson.That’s top priority.”
Amelia folded her arms, voice collected.“Agreed.We should also consider other potential targets.Wendell’s fixated on me personally, but remember the Shankland murder—he killed a prison guard’s sister out of spite.He may well have a list of old grudges, trying to tie up all his ‘loose ends’ or punish people he blames.I might just be one name on that list.”
