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A cold dread washed over Finn. Hetried to take that in. It felt like a stay of execution had suddenly beencanceled. If the case went the wrong way, this time next week, he would nolonger be Finn Wright, Special Agent with the FBI. He’d just be plain old FinnWright, the kid who grew up through poverty, pain, and loss, all to reach someisland of accomplishment in life, only for all that to then be taken away. Finnwasn’t sure if he’d be the same person after that.
Cut adrift, he was scared he wouldsink back into old habits and ways he had long since buried within himself.
“I can’t leave Amelia and Robhere, not until I’ve solved this case,” Finn said. But deep down, he wonderedwhether it was loyalty to his newfound team or fear of what he would have toface in his professional and personal life that was stopping him from returninghome.
“You do what you want, Finn,”Director Seward said. “I’m trying to give you the best chance possible to keepyour job. It’s up to you whether you take that chance. I have to attend tosomething. Be safe. And… good luck, son.”
The call ended. That last word cutFinn like a knife. Director Seward was the closest thing he had to a father figurein his life. The director using that word made Finn feel like even more of adisappointment, like he was turning his back not just on a mentor, but onfamily.
Up ahead, the traffic calmed for amoment, and Finn tried to think through it all, but his attention was thentaken by the sight of Winters’s car heading down a small winding lane. Finnfollowed as closely as he could until there it was, the old Victorian buildingof Wellfield Hospital.
It stood there, gray bricksdarkened further by over a century of London rain and fumes. Countless windowsnever blinking, even in the presence of death. A constant staring match thatcould only ever go one way.
Deep in the basement, the morguewas waiting. Cold metal, sterile surgical knives, and body bags.
Two of which contained answers forFinn and Winters. Two of which contained the remains of the DeGreys.
CHAPTER TEN
Standing in the corridor, lookingat the dull metal in front of him, Finn could hardly see his own reflection,and instead could just about make out the blurred outline of Winters next tohim.
“After you,” Finn said as themetal elevator doors opened with a dull ping, which in turn was deadened by thedim fluorescent hallway.
“Age before beauty,” Wintersreplied.
“What age are you?” Finn said,still waiting in the quiet hospital corridor.
“Twenty-nine,” Winters answered.
“Same as me. Which month?” Finnasked. The doors tried to close and Finn stopped them with his arms. They thenopened up again, rattling to a stop out of sight. The elevator stayed vacantlike an open grave.
“October,” Winters said.
“Ha!” Finn exclaimed. “I was bornin November, that makes you one month older!”
“In that case,” Winters saidcalmly, moving past him, “I guess it’s age and beauty first, then.” Shegrinned and stepped into the elevator.
Finn followed and the doors closedwith a shudder.
Despite the momentarily warmconversation, Finn had been struck by how quiet Winters had been since arrivingat Wellfield Hospital.
He pressed the button for thebasement, and the elevator stuttered and began to descend into the depths ofthe old hospital.
“This thing could use some work. Iwonder if this elevator goes to hell,” Finn whispered. “It feels like it.”
Winters didn’t reply. She seemeddistant again.
Finn tried to lighten the mood. “Ifwe get stuck in here, I have saved up some great stories for just such anoccasion. For example, one time on duty, I had to wear a gorilla costume whilearresting someone dressed as a giraffe. I bet you a hundred bucks you won’t guesswhy we were dressed like that.”
Winters didn’t say anything. ToFinn, it looked as though she was gazing into the warped blur of the metaldoors and losing herself.
“Winters?” Finn said. But she didn’treply. “Amelia…” Finn touched her gently on the shoulder.
“Oh, sorry,” Winters said, shakingher head. “I was in a wee dwam.”
“Wee dwam?” Finn asked.
“My Aunt Jessie lived in Scotlandwhen I was a girl,” she explained. “I used to stay with her sometimes. It’s anold Scottish way of saying daydream.”
