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Amelia tilted her head. "You've never really talked about her that much."
A bitter smile tugged at Finn's lips. "There's a reason for that. The betrayal, the loss... it's a weight I've been carrying for a while now. I thought this case would be a distraction, something to take my mind off things. I never told you, but she's here in the UK."
Amelia seemed shocked. “Here?”
“In London, and she wants to talk with me, but I don't know what to do about it.”
“What does she want to talk about?” Amelia asked.
“She claims the affair never happened,” Finn said. “That she was being blackmailed into breaking it off with me. None of it makes sense. I worry that she's manipulating me, and I don't know if I can resist getting back with her if I see her. Does that sound weird?”
“No, not at all,” Amelia said. “Love makes us do strange things.”
Finn sighed. "I was certain coming here would be a good idea, that a case would help give me some perspective."
Amelia rested her hand gently on his arm, a comforting gesture. "Sometimes, diving into work can help, but sometimes it just magnifies the pain because we're not attending to our own needs."
Finn nodded, taking a deep breath. "It’s not just her. It's a myriad of past decisions, actions I regret, paths not taken. Being here, in this ancient place steeped in old tales, it’s made me reflective. More than I’d like to be right now."
"Every good detective or police officer I've known has been deeply impacted by their cases. Their compassion, their emotional connection to the world... it makes them excellent at what they do. It's not a sign of weakness, Finn. It means you're a good person."
As she spoke, Finn found himself lost in her striking features. The vibrant green of her eyes, the fiery cascade of her red hair, and the porcelain smoothness of her skin were utterly mesmerizing. For a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in a silent communion.
But the moment was fleeting. Amelia, perhaps sensing the intensity of Finn's gaze, suddenly away to the storm outside, breaking the trance-like spell between them.
Regaining his composure, Finn's voice carried a heaviness that Amelia hadn't heard before. "You know, I always saw myself as someone who charged headlong into danger, always wanting to help people, to solve problems. But now... now I'm realizing that maybe I've been running from something." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "I ran from my hometown in Florida, trying to escape the poverty, the mess I'd made of things. I ran to the UK to distance myself from the heartbreak of losing Demi and from that damned case at the FBI." He looked down, fingers absentmindedly tracing the patterns on the couch. "And what did it get me? I took a bullet on our last case, and I'm still not recovered."
Amelia turned, her face soft with understanding. "But you met me," she said quietly, a simple statement laden with unspoken emotion.
The weight of her words settled heavily in Finn's heart. He wanted to tell her how much her friendship meant to him, how she'd become a beacon in the darkest moments of his life. But every time he thought of expressing his feelings for Amelia, guilt gnawed at him. It felt like he was betraying his past, like every tender word for Amelia was another nail in the coffin of his relationship with Demi.
Amelia leaned back, considering his words. "Finn, everyone has ghosts from their past. The trick is not letting them overshadow the present. We're here together as partners, trying to solve a mystery. Let's focus on that. And when this is all over, if you want to talk... I'm here. Or maybe you'll finally know you need to face Demi to get closure one way or the other."
Finn looked at Amelia, gratitude evident in his eyes. "Thank you, Winters. You're a good friend. Let’s do just that. Let’s... Let's get back to the case."
Amelia nodded.
Pushing past the heavy silence, Finn's detective instincts kicked in. "Speaking of cases," he began, eager to divert the conversation, "I wandered around last night and found an old library. It was filled with books about Huldra Island, this mansion, the local folklore. If these murders have any connection to the island's myths, we might find something useful."
Amelia, grasping the change in topic, nodded in agreement. "It's worth a look. We need every clue we can get. I'm not sure how much more we can do out there before nightfall."
With a shared sense of purpose, the two of them left the room, their footsteps echoing in the corridor. Despite their mutual commitment to the case and helping the people on Huldra, an unspoken tension lingered, a testament to the complexities of their evolving relationship.
The grand corridors of Huldra House felt like they stretched into eternity as the duo walked side by side, the weight of their conversation clinging to the air. The house had a way of amplifying silence, the hushed whispers of the past mixing with the stillness of the present.
As they approached the library, Finn caught Amelia glancing sideways at Finn, observing his solemn profile. But he didn't say anything. It was as if, to Amelia, the confession he'd shared had given her an unexpected window into his world, one filled with its own battles and regrets. He hoped it was a reminder that beneath the hard exterior and wisecracks lay something deeper.
“Here it is,” Finn said, pushing the unusual door that seemed different from all of the others, more ornate, like whoever chose it for that room, valued knowledge above all else. Finn just hoped they'd find something to help them catch the killer.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The weight of the grand doors gave a little resistance as Finn pushed them open, revealing the sprawling library. In the embrace of the dying daylight, the room seemed even more immense. The gray sunlight filtered through towering arched windows, casting a misty hue on the countless books lining the shelves. The bookcases, elaborately carved with designs reminiscent of an older time, seemed to stretch endlessly upward, the highest titles barely discernible from the ground.
Finn paused for a moment, taking in the vastness. He noticed how the sunlight played tricks on the wooden floor, creating patterns as it danced across the Persian rugs. The scent of old books and polished wood hit him; it was a familiar comfort, a reminder of the sanctuaries he used to seek out at college when life became overwhelming.
The walls were lined with ancient wooden shelves that reached high to the ceiling. Thousands of dusty books stood shoulder to shoulder, their spines telling tales of time and tradition. Ornate chandeliers hung overhead, casting their warm glow upon reading tables scattered throughout.
Amelia broke the silence first. "This place is incredible! I wonder what's hidden in all of these old books."
