When You're Sleeping, page 15
"Or maybe he was just paranoid," Ulman countered dismissively. "A man on the edge can see enemies everywhere."
Finn clenched his fists, trying to push down the anger simmering beneath the surface. He couldn't afford to lose control—not now, not when he was already walking on thin ice with his FBI suspension and pending investigation. But damn it, something wasn't right here, and he needed local law enforcement to take him seriously.
"Inspector, I'm telling you, there's more to this than meets the eye," Finn insisted, his voice low and urgent. "I've seen too much to ignore the possibility."
Constable Mulberry stepped forward, a sympathetic frown creasing his brow. "You know, sir, there have been whispers about some of the powerful families in the area. Nothing concrete, mind you, but perhaps it's worth looking into."
"Whispers and rumors, Mulberry," Ulman said sharply. "We deal in facts and evidence, not wild theories. It's the easiest thing in the world to bad-mouth the successful. Leave that to the tabloids."
"Even if there's a chance?" Amelia pressed, her eyes flashing with defiance.
"Fine," Ulman grumbled, visibly irritated. "As you have informed me already, you are in charge Inspector Winters. I prefer more concrete police work than this approach, but it's your play."
"Thank you, Inspector," Finn said, nodding curtly. He needed to get out of here, away from the reminder of his failure to save Horace. As they began to walk away, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching them. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, paranoia creeping up his spine. He glanced around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
"Let's be careful," he murmured to Amelia as they moved further from the scene. "Something tells me this is just the tip of the iceberg."
"Agreed," she nodded grimly, her gaze never leaving the lifeless form of Horace Velace.
"Inspector Ulman, Constable Mulberry," Finn reiterated, forcing his voice to remain steady despite the turmoil inside him. "Conspiracies aside, has there ever been any hint of scandals with the rich and powerful? Something they might want to brush under the rug?"
Ulman snorted, his face reddening with anger. "You're still talking conspiracies, no matter how much you water it down. I've been working in this area for twenty years, Wright. Don't you think I would have known if something like that existed?"
"Perhaps," Finn said, trying not to let his frustration show. "But sometimes people can be too close to see what's right in front of them."
Constable Mulberry shifted on his feet, avoiding Ulman's glare. "It's possible," he admitted quietly. "There have been odd occurrences over the years – people seeing individuals moving around the countryside up to something."
"Rumors and hearsay," Ulman snapped. "We are officers of the law, we deal in facts."
"Inspector Ulman has a point," Amelia chimed in, her eyes flicking between the men. "But if there's even a shred of truth to these whispers, shouldn't we investigate further?"
"Fine," Ulman growled, seemingly at the end of his patience. "Look into it, then. But don't expect me to hold your hand through this wild goose chase."
"Great," Finn replied, tension releasing from his shoulders. "Let's get some officers talking to locals near St Martins Castle, see if we can dig up anything they might of seen that could help."
"Good luck with that," Ulman muttered under his breath.
Just then, a clamor erupted down the street as a group of journalists and photographers descended upon the scene. Flashes from cameras illuminated the darkened alleyway, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the onlookers.
"Damn press," Ulman grumbled, straightening his jacket as he prepared to face them. "You two head back to Helford. I'll handle this mess."
"Thanks, inspector," Amelia said, exchanging a relieved glance with Finn.
"Actually," Mulberry interjected. "Would you mind giving me a lift? My car's been having engine trouble, and I don't trust it to make the journey."
"Of course," Finn agreed, nodding toward their vehicle parked nearby. As they walked away from the chaos of the crime scene, he felt an unshakable sensation that danger was lurking just out of sight again. Trying to shake off his unease, he focused on finding answers – if there truly was a conspiracy at play, they needed to get to the bottom of it before anyone else got hurt.
Finn unlocked the car, holding the door open for Amelia and Mulberry. He scanned the surroundings one last time, his instincts still nagging at him. The streetlights cast faint orange pools of light in the on the slick pavement, but the surrounding shadows seemed impenetrable under the darkening evening sky.
"Alright," Amelia said, sliding into the passenger seat. "Let's get out of here."
"Couldn't agree more," Finn replied, closing her door before making his way around to the driver's side.
As he opened the door, a chill ran down his spine, goosebumps prickling across his skin. A sense of unease washed over him, as if he were being watched by unseen eyes. He glanced across the street, but nothing appeared amiss, just closed shops and empty sidewalks.
"Everything okay?" Mulberry asked from the backseat, eyebrow raised in concern.
"Fine," Finn forced a smile, trying to dismiss his lingering paranoia. "Just thought I saw something." He slipped into the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly.
"Let's head back," Amelia suggested, her voice steady but concerned. "We'll regroup and figure out our next move."
"Right," Finn agreed, starting the engine with a quiet rumble. He pulled away from the curb, stealing one last glance at the dark alleyway they'd left behind. If there was a conspiracy working against them, they needed to be vigilant and trust their instincts.
As the car merged onto the main road, Finn couldn't help but feel that they were leaving something crucial behind, a piece of the puzzle hidden in plain sight. But with the darkness swallowing the crime scene whole, it was impossible to know what it might be. For now, all they could do was press forward, aware that danger could be lurking around every corner.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
The last remnants of fading sunlight cast long shadows across the winding country road as Finn gripped the steering wheel, navigating the turns with ease. Amelia sat in the passenger seat, her red hair reflecting the warm hues of the sunset, while Mulberry occupied the back seat, his keen eyes scanning the landscape.
"Damn," Finn muttered under his breath, thinking about their recent encounter with Horace's tragic death. "I just... I feel like I failed him."
Amelia reached over and gently placed a hand on his arm, offering an understanding smile. "You did everything you could, Finn. You risked your life trying to save him."
Mulberry leaned forward, placing a supportive hand on Finn's shoulder. "She's right, you know. Not everyone would've had the courage to climb out there and attempt a rescue. You're braver than most, Finn." Mulberry sounded wiser than his years.
Finn nodded, though he couldn't shake the guilt that weighed heavily on his chest. He glanced around at the unfamiliar terrain and furrowed his brow. "Hey, did I take a wrong turn? Are we still headed towards Helford Station?"
"Ah, don't worry, my friend," Mulberry assured him. "Around here, all roads lead to Helford eventually."
Amelia chuckled. "Kind of like how all roads lead to Rome, huh? Though I'm not sure Helford has the same glamour as Rome."
At the mention of roads leading to Rome, a spark ignited in Finn's mind and an epiphany formed. He looked at Mulberry through the rearview mirror. "Hey, where do the Brentfords live, exactly?"
"Brentfords?" Mulberry asked.
"We identified a tattoo on one of the victims that's the Brentfords' coat of arms," Amelia explained.
"Brentford Mansion isn't far, it's out on the coast, if I remember correctly," Mulberry replied, obviously curious about Finn's sudden interest.
"Interesting," Finn mused, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "What if that tattoo on victim 4's leg didn't signify her as a member of the Brentford line? Instead, what if it was more like... a brand, signifying ownership?"
"Ownership?" Amelia asked, her eyebrows knitting together in concern.
Finn's eyes were focused on the road ahead, but his thoughts were racing far beyond it. "Yeah. You know, the old stories around here tell of a land filled with forgotten mines and smuggler tunnels. What if someone's using them for something far more sinister? Like a people smuggling ring, targeting vulnerable women. Shipping them around to the influential."
"Like modern-day slavery," Amelia whispered, her voice heavy with disgust.
"Exactly," Finn confirmed, his jaw set with determination. "And if that's the case, then maybe all roads don't lead to Rome – or Helford, for that matter. Maybe they lead to St Martins Castle."
Amelia nodded slowly, seeing where he was going with this. "So, you think there's a connection between the Brentfords, these tunnels, and the castle?"
"I'd bet on it," Finn replied, his grip tightening on the wheel. "I wouldn't be surprised if those tunnels run from the Brentford mansion on the coast all the way to St Martins Castle. That woman could have been transported to the castle from there, and those are probably just two locations within some larger network."
"Then something went wrong the other night," Mulberry added, his tone somber. "One of the women managed to escape. They hunted her down, and in the process, Dolores Mayweather and Helen Baxter were killed because they saw something they shouldn't have."
"It makes sense," Finn agreed, his eyes narrowing as he pieced things together. "It all adds up. But how do we prove any of this?"
"First, we need more evidence," Amelia said, her green eyes determined. "And we need to find a way to access those tunnels without alerting anyone. They'll cover it up otherwise. Maybe they've grown so arrogant that they don't realize how close we are."
"Then let's pay this Brentford Mansion a visit," Finn suggested, his heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. "If we find a tunnel that runs from there to the castle, it'll support the theory that the two families are part of this."
As Finn stepped on the gas, he could feel the weight of responsibility settling upon his shoulders. This was not just about solving a case anymore; it was about saving lives and bringing justice to those who had suffered at the hands of a sinister network hidden beneath the surface. And he would stop at nothing until he had uncovered every last secret that lay buried in the darkness.
Mulberry furrowed his brow, clearly deep in thought. "But what about the fourth victim? The one with the tattoo? Why was she murdered?" he asked, glancing at Amelia.
Amelia's eyes darkened as she recalled their confrontation with the Keatings. "When we were outside Charles Keatings' room, we heard him propositioning the victim," she said, her voice tense. "She was saying no, but he wasn't taking no for an answer."
Finn clenched his fists on the steering wheel, angry at the thought of the girl being put in such a vulnerable position. "So when we arrested Charles, and Edward Keatings was distracted, she took the chance to escape?" he inquired, seeking confirmation.
"Exactly," Amelia nodded. "She must have run out of the tunnels, panicked and disoriented. In her haste, she fell out of the tunnel exit, down the hill and broke her neck."
"Damn," Finn muttered, imagining the terror the girl must have felt in her final moments. He couldn't shake the image from his mind - the desperation, the pain, the loneliness.
"Before the killer could remove her body, someone possibly saw it and ran off to get the police," Amelia continued. "The killer realized they had been exposed, so they caved in the tunnel to prevent anyone from snooping around."
"An exciting theory," Mulberry admitted, his eyes lit up like a kid, "but how do we prove it?"
"First, we need concrete evidence," Finn replied, his mind racing with possibilities. "We'll need to find a way to access those tunnels without alerting anyone involved in this operation."
"Right," Mulberry agreed. "And we also need to connect the dots between the victims and tie them back to Brentford Mansion and St. Martins Castle. Otherwise, a tunnel between both places might let us know we're on the right track, but it's not enough on its own to start wading in and arresting people."
"Alright," Finn said, determination in his voice, as he gripped the steering wheel. "We need to go to Brentford Mansion and see if we can find more active tunnels."
"Actually, Brentford Mansion isn't far from where we are now," Mulberry chimed in, pointing at a turn up ahead.
"Perfect." Finn quickly took the turn, putting his foot down on the accelerator. The car sped through the darkening evening, trees blurring by as they rushed towards their destination.
"Are you sure we'll be able to get in without being noticed?" Amelia asked, anxiety creeping into her voice.
"I've been thinking about that," Finn reassured her, his eyes scanning the road for any signs of the mansion. "When I chased the shooter at St Martins Castle, he no doubt disappeared into a tunnel in the woods. And we found the caved-in tunnel entrance in another part of the estate where the fourth victim was found. I'm betting that there are multiple entrances and exits in case they ever get chased by the law. If Brentford Mansion is the same as the castle, we'll find a tunnel entrance in the grounds. We won't even need to get inside the house."
Nothing else was said, just several minutes of the drone of the car engine. Then, Mulberry pointed along a long straight country road.
As they neared the mansion, Finn's palms grew slick with sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew they were taking a huge risk, but if it meant saving more innocent lives and bringing those responsible to justice, it was a risk he was willing to take.
"Get ready," Finn warned, his voice barely above a whisper as the car crept closer to the looming silhouette of Brentford Mansion. "Whatever's waiting for us in there, we need to be prepared to face it. It's likely our shooter has other guns."
"Understood," Amelia said, her own voice steady despite the fear that flickered in her eyes. Mulberry simply nodded, his expression grim.
The air was now thick with the scent of the sea, and nearby, cliffs darted down to a roaring surf that swelled tumultuously
As the mansion came into full view, Finn couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine. The imposing structure stood like a dark sentinel against the night sky, its shadowy secrets hidden within. With a deep breath, he steeled himself for what lay ahead, knowing that this could be the turning point in their investigation – or their last stand.
"Let's do this," Finn murmured, bringing the car to a halt and killing the engine far from its gates. The three of them exchanged tense glances before stepping out into the chilly evening air, their resolve unwavering as they moved forward into the unknown.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting a golden glow on Brentford Mansion, its regal facade a stark contrast to the surrounding rugged cliffs and churning sea. Finn Wright couldn't help but marvel at the grand estate as he, Amelia Winters, and Mulberry stood before its walls. The mansion rose up like a sentinel against the Cornish coast, a testament to wealth and power.
"Quite a place, isn't it?" Amelia said, her green eyes reflecting the fading sunlight.
"Sure is," Finn agreed, his mind already working through the possibilities of what could be hidden within those walls. "But we've got a job to do."
"Right." Amelia turned to Mulberry, her expression serious. "I think Finn and I should do this alone. I need you to gather some trustworthy officers and come back here as soon as possible. We can't afford any leaks or missteps with this one."
"Understood, Inspector," Mulberry replied, nodding his head.
"Wait," Finn interjected. "Make sure Ulman isn't involved. I've got a feeling about him, and it's not good. We don't need any more corruption muddying the waters."
Mulberry gave Finn a knowing look. "I'll keep that in mind, Agent Wright. Finn. Don't worry."
As Mulberry drove off to gather reinforcements, Finn couldn't shake the nagging sensation that something was off with Inspector Ulman. He had caught subtle cues in the man's behavior that spoke of either deceit or simmering anger. But for now, focusing on the task at hand was crucial rather than figuring out which was which.
"Ready?" Amelia asked, her gaze locked on the imposing entrance of Brentford Mansion.
"Always," Finn replied, feeling a surge of adrenaline course through him. Together, they began to approach the mansion, each step bringing them closer to the secrets that lay within.
Finn eyed the massive stone wall that loomed before them. "Looks like we've got a bit of a challenge ahead, huh?"
"Speak for yourself," Amelia retorted playfully, adjusting her grip on the wall as she prepared to climb. "I bet I can make it over faster than you."
"Is that a challenge?" Finn grinned, immediately hoisting himself up with ease. His muscular arms propelled him upward, and he couldn't help but show off his athleticism.
"Show off," Amelia muttered under her breath as she struggled to find a good foothold. Her fingers slipped on the cold, slick stones, causing her to lose progress.
"Almost there," Finn teased, his feet planted firmly against the wall's surface. With one final push, he launched himself over the top, only to lose his balance and tumble to the ground on the other side. He groaned as he lay sprawled out in the damp grass, feeling more foolish than triumphant.
"Very graceful," Amelia's voice floated over the wall, tinged with amusement. She still hadn't managed to make it to the top while Finn was preoccupied with his fall. "Maybe I should give you a few pointers?"
"Ha ha, very funny," Finn grumbled, pushing himself up and dusting off his clothes. As he looked around, expecting to see Amelia scaling down the other side of the wall, he was surprised to find her already on the ground beside him, smirking.
"Did you teleport or something?" Finn asked, genuinely taken aback by her sudden appearance.
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