When You're Sleeping, page 4
"My God," Finn said. "Hey! Stop! Stop the train!"
But the driver didn't listen. The train was hurtling along towards a body on the tracks. It was a woman. She was lying unconscious, and the train was about to hit her.
"Please!" Finn screamed. "Stop the train!"
From beyond the glass, Finn could hear a horrid laugh. It was twisted and unnatural, but within it Finn heard something familiar. He had a terrible feeling he knew the driver.
The person lying on the track began to move up ahead, and Finn now saw that it was a woman. With red hair. In the pit of his stomach, Finn felt like he was going to be sick. Somehow it was Amelia. Somehow, she was lying there on the train track.
Amelia began to move on the ground and staggered to her feet.
"Stop the train! Stop! You're going to kill her!" Finn pleaded, slamming his shoulder against the door again, and again, and again.
At the last moment, the driver turned and smiled.
It was Demi. She was the driver.
Just as the train was about to hit Amelia, Finn woke up in his chair with a jolt.
His heart was still pounding as he returned to reality, the remnants of the nightmare clinging to him like a cold shroud. He blinked, trying to regain his bearings, and found Amelia sitting beside him, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity, lit by the morning sun.
"Are you okay?" Amelia asked, her green eyes studying him closely. "You fell asleep for an hour."
Finn nodded, attempting to mask his lingering unease with a casual demeanor. "Yeah, just a bad dream."
Around them, other passengers on the train glanced in their direction, their attention drawn by the disturbance. Finn felt a flush of embarrassment. He wasn't one to lose his composure, especially not in public.
Amelia raised an eyebrow and smiled. "You shouted my name. I don't know if I like the idea of you dreaming about me."
Finn forced a laugh, trying to deflect. "Don't flatter yourself, Winters. You're not the star of my dreams."
Amelia didn't seem entirely convinced but let it slide. She glanced out the window as the train began to slow, pulling into Eyesworth station. The Cornish countryside stretched out beyond, a picturesque landscape that belied the grim purpose of their journey.
"It's time for us to go," Finn said, gathering his things. The remnants of the dream still haunted the back of his mind, Demi's laugh echoing in his ears and the image of Amelia on the tracks sending shivers down his spine.
He tried to not read into such things, but he found it difficult to ignore.
They disembarked from the train, stepping onto the platform of Eyesworth station. The air was crisp, with the faint scent of the sea carried on the breeze. Around them, the quaint charm of the Cornish countryside offered much within its beauty, but Finn was focused on the case at hand—a double homicide in the grounds of an old castle.
As they made their way towards the exit, Finn couldn't shake the disquiet that had settled over him since the dream. It felt like an omen, a sinister prelude to the investigation awaiting them.
Finn glanced at Amelia, who was scanning their surroundings with a detective's eye. Despite his efforts to keep his personal turmoil hidden, he knew Amelia was too astute not to notice something was off.
"We've got a job to do," he reminded himself, pushing aside the lingering shadows of the nightmare. The case awaited them, and whatever secrets lay hidden in the old castle and its grounds, they were about to uncover them.
The platform was relatively quiet, save for a few locals disembarking and a young man in a neatly tailored suit who seemed to be waiting for someone.
As they approached, the young man's eyes lit up with recognition, and he quickly made his way over to them. He was in his early twenties, with an air of eagerness that was almost palpable.
"Detective Wright? Inspector Winters?" he asked, extending his hand first to Finn and then to Amelia. "I'm Constable Mulberry. It's an honor to meet you both. I've been following your cases in the newspapers."
Finn couldn't help but grin at the young constable's enthusiasm. "Well, I always knew I'd be famous one day," he joked, nudging Amelia playfully.
Amelia rolled her eyes but smiled. "More like infamous," she quipped.
Constable Mulberry seemed to brighten even more at their banter. "I've been asked to assist you both and take you to St Martins' Castle, where the bodies have been found. It's not far from here."
Finn gave a nod, adjusting his coat. "Lead the way, Constable."
Mulberry led them to a waiting car, his enthusiasm barely contained as he held the door open for them. "It's not every day we get detectives of your caliber in Cornwall," he said, his voice filled with a mix of pride and excitement.
Finn settled into the car, his mind already turning over the few details they had. A potential double homicide in an old castle, a prime minister's cousin among the victims—this was the kind of case that demanded everything they had. And as the car pulled away from the station, Finn felt the familiar surge of intrigue that came with each investigation, and intrigue that would distract him, for a time, from his personal problems.
CHAPTER FOUR
As the car wound through the verdant Cornish landscape, Finn found himself captivated by the rolling hills and rugged coastline that flashed by the window. The raw beauty of the area was a stark contrast to the grim reason for their visit. His gaze lingered on the ancient stone walls and the fields, a patchwork of greens and browns, before being drawn back to the task at hand.
Amelia, sitting beside him, turned her attention to Constable Mulberry. "Can you give us any more details about the case?" she asked, her tone professional yet tinged with concern. "We weren't given much by our boss."
"Boss?" Finn said. "Rob? Well, he's your boss, let's not overstate things."
"Oh, you don't like your superiors?" Mulberry asked, glancing in the rearview mirror at Finn and Amelia, then refocusing on the road ahead.
"Superior!?" Finn said, looking at Amelia. "This is getting out of hand. Rob will have a field day if he hears that. He'll never let me hear the end of it."
"Finn is a consulting detective," Amelia said. "He's good friends with my boss, Chief Constable Collins. But yes, I suppose technically, he's not Finn's boss."
"Ah," Mulberry said in a thick Cornish accent.
But Finn had the feeling he was just being police.
"So," Finn asked. "What can you tell us about what's happened here, Mulberry?"
"Well, the whole area around St Martin's Castle was hit by a terrible flood last night. It was one of the worst we've seen in years."
Finn's brow furrowed at the mention of the flood. Natural disasters often brought unforeseen complications to investigations, wiping away evidence.
"Were there any casualties or injuries reported because of the flood?" Amelia inquired, her voice steady, but Finn could sense the undercurrent of empathy in her words.
Mulberry shook his head slightly, his expression somber. "The emergency crews are still assessing the situation. The flood was quite sudden and caused a lot of chaos. But what's most disturbing is that when the water started to recede around the castle, they found two bodies. That's why you're here."
Finn and Amelia exchanged a glance, a silent communication they had perfected over their time working together. The discovery of bodies in the aftermath of a natural disaster was not uncommon, but something in Mulberry's tone suggested that this was no ordinary finding.
"Any identification on the victims yet?" Finn asked, his detective instincts kicking in.
Mulberry nodded. "I'm not sure yet, Inspector Ulman will have that information when we get there. We believe at least one of the victims may have been on her way to visit the castle when the flood hit. But there's a peculiar aspect to it—the way the bodies were found."
Amelia leaned forward, her interest piqued. "Peculiar how?"
"The bodies... they were positioned in a way that doesn't seem accidental. It's almost as if they were placed there deliberately to make it look as though the flood swept them there."
Finn looked out at the passing countryside and could see pockets of water and localized flooding. It was a complication he didn't need. As the car continued its journey towards St Martin's Castle, Finn couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease. The idyllic scenery outside belied the dark reality that awaited them—a reality where nature's fury had potentially unearthed a human-made horror.
Amelia, ever the analytical mind, was already jotting down notes in her small notebook. Her green eyes flicked up to meet Finn's and then back to her work.
The car turned onto a narrower road, the ancient stones of St Martin's Castle coming into view in the distance, its foreboding silhouette a stark against the gray November skies. As they approached, the castle seemed to loom over the landscape, a sentinel guarding untold secrets, and Finn wondered how many battles, how many struggles, it had seen in its hundreds of years of existence.
What were two more bodies to the depths of history? Finn answered that question immediately in his head. Each person counted. Every. Single. One.
The car approached St Martin Castle, its bright red sandstone structure standing out even more the closer they got. The castle, with its unique and striking appearance, seemed almost defiant in the face of the natural disaster that had swept through the area. The surrounding land was visibly waterlogged, testament to the ferocity of the previous night's flood.
Finn peered out at the swollen river nearby, its banks breached in the deluge. The water had receded somewhat, but the damage was extensive. The land around the castle exposed the power of nature, with debris scattered haphazardly and patches of standing water reflecting the gray skies above.
"I hope everyone got out the flood's way in time," Finn muttered, his eyes scanning the scene. The thought of people being caught unawares by such a flood was unsettling.
Amelia, looking out her window at the castle, said, "Despite everything, the castle's still standing. It's like it's weathered a thousand storms before this. I assume those inside were probably safe."
As they neared the castle, Constable Mulberry slowed the car to a stop at a police checkpoint set up outside the perimeter. An officer approached, his expression grave as he recognized Mulberry.
"Morning, Constable," the officer greeted. "I assume these are the detectives from Hertfordshire Constabulary?"
Mulberry nodded. "Yes, this is Inspector Amelia Winters and Consultant Detective Finn Wright. They're here to investigate the incident. At the behest of the Home Office, no less."
The officer glanced at Finn and Amelia, sizing them up with a quick, professional eye. "Very well. You can go through. The forensic team is already inside. They're waiting for you."
Mulberry drove past the checkpoint, and as they neared the castle, the full extent of the flood’s impact became apparent. Mud-streaked walls, uprooted vegetation, and a general sense of upheaval surrounded the ancient building. Despite its resilient appearance, the castle bore the scars of the flood, its lower regions stained with the remnants of the rushing waters.
Amelia opened her notebook, jotting down observations, while Finn continued to survey the area. "Looks like the river hit hard here," he remarked, noting the swollen waterway's proximity to the castle.
"Yes," Mulberry responded, "the river broke its banks at the worst possible point. The castle's position usually protects it from the worst of the weather, but this time it was right in the flood's path. Everything that's happened, flood and bodies, it's also more sensitive than usual."
“Lives are lives,” Finn said.
“I agree!” Mulberry said, enthusiastically. “But given the history of the castle and the family who owns it, there's a lot of pressure on us. I don't believe that's right, but it is what it is.”
“What do you know about the castle and family, Mulberry?” Finn asked. He was always a strong believer that the history to a place was its foundation.
“The Keatings?” Mulberry answered. “I'm no expert, but I do know they've owned the castle for hundreds of years. And the castle goes back further than that. The Keatings themselves are somewhat famous in the area because they donate a percentage of their income to local communities. They're that rare breed that's equally respected by working class people like me and high society types with more money than sense.”
“You'd make a great tour guide,” Finn joked.
“It would certainly be less stressful,” Mulberry laughed, his youth coming through clear and pure.
Mulberry finally parked the car, and they stepped out into the cool, damp air. The ground squelched underfoot, a reminder of the floodwaters that had only recently receded.
Finn looked up at the towering castle, its red sandstone a striking defiant figure against the dreariness of the day.
As they approached the entrance, Finn noticed Amelia's gaze was drawn to the upper windows of the castle, her detective's intuition seemingly sensing something. Finn followed her gaze, feeling a tingle of anticipation, wondering if she too was encountering the weight of the place and its history.
As Constable Mulberry led Finn and Amelia towards the arched entrance of St Martin Castle, they were greeted by a figure who appeared more aristocrat than police officer. Inspector Ulman stood with a fine rain starting from above. His attire was immaculate. His long beige coat open and showing a black suit that was crisp and perfectly tailored, complementing his neatly groomed mustache and slicked-back hair. A man in his forties, he carried an air of authority, and Finn wondered if he had a military past.
"Inspector Ulman, these are Inspector Amelia Winters and Consultant Detective Finn Wright," Mulberry introduced.
Ulman's gaze was evaluative, sweeping over Finn and Amelia with a hint of disapproval. "Ah, yes, the Hertfordshire team," he said, his voice laced with a barely concealed disdain. "I was informed of your arrival, though I must say, I find it quite unnecessary. We have the situation well in hand here."
Amelia offered a polite smile, though Finn could sense her patience thinning. "Inspector Ulman, we appreciate your team's efforts, but our presence here is at the direct request of the Home Office," she replied, maintaining a calm demeanor.
Ulman's eyebrows raised slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. "I assure you, Inspector Winters, our investigation is proceeding as expected. There's no need for external interference."
Finn watched the exchange, noting the tension that hung in the air like a heavy mist. Amelia’s composure was admirable, but even she had limits to her patience.
With a measured tone, Amelia responded, "I understand your concerns, Inspector Ulman, but our involvement is not a matter of choice. We're here under orders—"
She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice so only Ulman could hear. "Unofficially, those orders come from the Prime Minister himself."
The revelation seemed to unnerve Ulman, his previously composed demeanor faltering ever so slightly. He straightened his tie, a nervous tic that betrayed his discomfort. "Well, that is... unexpected," he admitted, his voice losing some of its earlier confidence.
Finn wondered if, with a possible military background, that Inspector Ulman had predisposition to respect the chain of command, despite his grievances.
"I can assure you, Inspector Ulman, we're here to assist, not to undermine your work," Amelia continued, her tone firm yet diplomatic. "Our goal is to solve this case as efficiently as possible."
"Yeah," Finn said. "Besides, the more the merrier. I'm sure we'll be out of your hair in a few days."
Ulman nodded. "Finn Wright, the American Special Agent, yes?"
"That's right."
Ulman let out a dim smile, which he soon put back in check. "I served with some of your boys."
"I hope it went well," Finn offered.
"War never goes well," Ulman said. "But they have my respect." Ulman cleared his throat, adjusting his stance. "Very well. I suppose it can't be helped," he conceded, though the reluctance in his voice was evident. "I'll brief you on the situation, then."
Finn exchanged a quick glance with Amelia, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate balance they would need to maintain with Ulman. They followed him off of the path outside the castle, each step squelching on the soaked ground.
As they walked, Finn couldn't help but admire the castle's exterior again—its grandeur and history palpable in every ornate detail. He was intrigued by the place and a little disappointed that they were not heading inside.
Finn broke the silence. "Inspector Ulman, could we see the victims? It might give us a clearer picture of what we're dealing with."
Ulman hesitated for a moment, then nodded stiffly. "Of course, that is where I'm leading you, but we'll need to go by boat. The flood has made direct access impossible, and both bodies are still in situ by the river. Our forensics team didn't arrive until recently."
They followed Ulman out of the castle and down to the riverbank, where a police boat bobbed gently in the water. The river, swollen from the recent flood, flowed with a quiet intensity. Finn, Amelia, and Ulman clambered aboard, and the boat lurched forward as they began their journey along the waterway.
As the boat cut through the river, Finn took in the sight of St Martin Castle from this new vantage point. Its red sandstone walls towered over the water, casting a formidable reflection. The serenity of the river belied the riverbanks that were filled with debris.
They rounded a bend, and the boat slowed as they approached an embankment behind the castle. The scene was grimly illuminated by the flashing lights of officers looking around the scene with headlamps beneath the gray skies. Two bodies lay on the ground, surrounded by forensics experts meticulously documenting the scene.
"Watch your step," Ulman said as he brought the boat onto the riverbank. They all disembarked.
Finn felt the wet of the ground running into his shoes. He grimaced. "I'm going to bill Rob for these shoes."
"Are you leaking?" Amelia asked,
Finn tried to ignore the comment. He could now see the bodies more closely. One was a young woman dressed in expensive clothes, the other an older woman dressed in jeans and a white top.
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