Page 19 of When You're Close

Amelia's face turned somber. "A wraith? You mean a ghost?"

Bill nodded, "Legends about the Huldra wraith date back centuries. The stories I heard as a child, told by my grandparents, painted a vivid image of a creature that the Hidden Folk would release upon feeling threatened or wronged. It's said to be an entity born out of the land's fury, a guardian to ensure the island's sanctity remains untouched. It makes sense then why it would kill Lord Carmichael since he was trying to build a resort here."

Finn stared at the flames dancing in the fireplace, deep in thought. "Do you genuinely believe in all of this, Bill?"

Bill locked eyes with Finn, his gaze serious. "Aye, at times I do when something unusual happens." He then broke into a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling. "And sometimes, it’s good for business." He winked. "Tales of the Fair Folk, wraiths, and hidden secrets always draw in the curious ones."

Finn laughed. “Everyone's an entrepreneur these days.”

Amelia gave a soft smile. "Every place has its stories, some more enticing than others. But we don't believe that the two murders were the result of some mythical creature. We think someone here, on the island, probably did it. And they're probably still here, considering how difficult the weather has been. Thank you, Bill."

The innkeeper nodded, "Just be careful out there. Wraith or no wraith, the island has its ways. Respect it, and it'll respect you."

The weight of his words settled around them. The warmth of the Fair Folk Inn keeping the chilling winds of the island at bay, which continued to whisper its own tales outside, and Finn felt the depths of the mysteries they were yet to uncover.

The dark, aged wood of the pub seemed to drink in the silence after Bill’s revelation. The air grew thicker as Amelia shivered slightly next to the bar.

"I bet quite a few around here would have their own stories to tell, maybe even about a potential suspect," Finn muttered, glancing around at the pub's patrons, most of whom were huddled over their drinks, lost in their own worlds.

Bill cleared his throat, drawing the duo's attention. "I've got a bottle of Huldra whiskey tucked away, aged for a good twenty-one years. Special occasions and such. Fancy a nip?"

Finn's eyes gleamed with mischief, and he shot Amelia a hopeful look. "What do you think? Could use a bit of something to warm me up?"

Amelia shot him a stern look, her eyes narrowing. "Absolutely not. Maybe after duty."

Finn grumbled, "You're no fun."

Bill chuckled, patting Finn on the shoulder. "The offer stands for when you're off duty. But tread carefully, both of you."

Amelia gave Bill a small nod, her expression grateful. "We appreciate your openness, Bill. We might just be here for an investigation, but it helps to know the land's stories. Especially considering everyone seems to blaming this wraith creature."

Walking away from the bar, Finn and Amelia found a quiet corner and settled in. The hushed murmurs of other patrons washed over them as Amelia looked around, clearly contemplating their next move.

"We should talk to more locals, maybe someone will let something slip," she said, rubbing her temples.

But Finn shook his head, an idea brewing like the storm outside. "There's only one thing on my mind now, Amelia. That attic door at Huldra House. We need to speak with Lady Ferguson's son. The body of Ivar was found a short walk from the house, and you could imagine someone with psychiatric issues..."

“The vast majority of people with mental illness are no more likely to be murderers than you or I,” Amelia said. “Let's not tar him with prejudice.”

Finn leaned back in his chair. “Come on. You know me better than that. I'm not saying he is any more or less likely to be a killer, but it took someone with a lot of strength to put Ivar's body under that dock, especially during a storm. Lady Ferguson couldn't have done it, and as far as we know, she and her son are the only two who stay at Huldra House during the night. Process of elimination makes him at least worth talking to."

“We need to tread carefully as Bill said over there,” Amelia nodded. “After all, Lady Ferguson was the one who called us onto this case. She could easily have us thrown off of it.”

“Hey," Finn smiled, holding up his hands. "I'm the very definition of diplomacy."

Amelia pursed her lips. "I understand, but that house has a dark history. And the more I hear about it, the more I feel like we're diving into a rabbit hole that might not have anything to do with the killer. I don't want to get stuck down it."

Finn took her hand, squeezing it gently. "That's what we're here for, right? To uncover the truth, no matter how deep the hole is."

Amelia sighed, looking into Finn's eyes. "Just promise me you won't start throwing accusations around. Promise me you'll be careful."

Finn nodded. "Always."

CHAPTER EIGHT

The coarse grass crunched underfoot as the killer moved with a slow, deliberate pace across the top of the towering cliffs. The wind whipped up, carrying with it the scent of the salty sea and the cold promise of the approaching storm. Clouds gathered menacingly on the horizon, mirroring the darkness that lay within the killer’s own heart.

Looking down, the killer marveled at the vast expanse of churning waters below. The sea, in its relentless march, battered against the base of the cliffs, the waves breaking with a frothy rage. It was a breathtaking dance of nature – the slow, inexorable erosion of earth by water. One that had been taking place for eons.

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