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Amelia looked past the body. “Do you think Nathaniel is still up there?”
Finn gazed at the locked attic door. “We need to get him out of here.”
Amelia walked up the stairs and knocked gently on the door. “Nathaniel. It's Inspector Winters. Are you there?”
“Please, the storm... I can't take this,” his tired voice replied from behind the door.
“We're going to come in... Somehow,” Amelia said.
“I don't think he knows about his mother,” Finn whispered.
Amelia nodded and whispered back. “The storm is so loud outside, it might have covered the noise... We've got to get into Nathaniel's room somehow.”
“I'm not climbing up to that window again,” Finn said, looking around for anything that might help him break down the door. That was when he noticed something strange about the body.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Finn stared at it for a moment, realizing that something was out of place. Clutched tightly in Lady Ferguson's hand was an object. As respectfully as he could, he reached up and pulled a key from her deathly grip. It was ornate, the kind of key meant for a lock of significance.
He turned to Amelia, speaking barely above a whisper, "I'll bet anything that Lady Ferguson was on her way up here to save Nathaniel when she was intercepted by the killer. This must be the attic key."
"But why hang her?" Amelia's voice trembled with emotion. "Why this display?"
Finn eyed the ceiling, noting the fresh imprints around the newly installed hooks. "These hooks weren't here before. This... display, it was premeditated. The killer wanted Nathaniel to witness his own mother's fate. A cruel and unusual punishment. But I reckon we disturbed the killer, he heard us coming and had to run off before having the chance to find the key to Nathaniel's room and forcing him to see this. Whoever did thishatesthe Ferguson family. He wants them to suffer."
As realization dawned, Finn gently closed Lady Ferguson's hand. With a voice filled with sorrow and regret that he couldn't save her, he whispered, "We'll make sure your son is safe, Lady Ferguson. I promise."
Finn walked past Amelia, and she gently patted his arm for a moment. Her eyes were filled with admiration for her partner. Finn then approached the door, the weight of the key in his hand feeling heavier than he had anticipated. He leaned in, speaking softly, "Nathaniel? It's Finn. May we come in?"
There was a pause, the seconds feeling like hours, before a timid voice from within responded, "Yes."
Using the key, Finn slowly unlocked the door, its heavy wood creaking as it opened. Amelia followed closely behind him, her concern evident in every movement. The room was dim, with only a faint glow from a single lamp on a nightstand casting long shadows. Outside the solitary window was Huldra Island beneath the skies, darkened drastically by a thick swirling maelstrom of clouds. In the center of the room, a large bed dominated the space, antique furniture sporadically taking up the rest of the attic space. Under the thick blankets, Nathaniel was hidden, a pale face and unruly dark hair peeking out, eyes wide and searching.
He looked at them, a confused mix of hope and desperation in his eyes. "Where's my mother?" he whispered, his voice quivering. "I've been calling for her. Why hasn't she come?"
The weight of that question pulled at Finn's soul. Finn and Amelia exchanged glances, and Finn was certain that Amelia also understood the dilemma they now faced. Nathaniel, with his delicate mental state, was now at the mercy of a truth too horrifying for most healthy adults, let alone someone of his fragility.
Finn cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully, "Nathaniel, we need to get you out of here. It's not safe. Can you come with us?" Finn was racking his brain for a way to get the man downstairs without seeing his dead mother as he waited for an answer.
Nathaniel hesitated, pulling the blankets closer around him as though they could shield him from the reality outside his door. "I will, but only if my mother says it's okay," he insisted, his voice filled with a child-like hope that his the one person who had always cared for him would soon enter and take everything back to normal. At the very least, be there to take control of the situation.
Finn felt a pang of sorrow. How does one navigate such a heart-wrenching situation? It was a challenge, even for an experienced agent like him. But right now, he had to make decisions, not just as a detective, but as a protector of an innocent life.
Amelia took a deep breath, looking at Nathaniel with a gentle expression. "The storm outside is getting bad, Nathaniel. It's going to be the worst one on the island in living memory. We need to make sure you're safe," she said, her voice soothing.
Nathaniel's gaze darted between the two detectives, anxiety clear in his eyes. "Huldra House is the strongest building on the island," he retorted, his voice wavering but defiant. "It's made from the black rock. If it's not safe here, then where is?"
Finn knelt beside the bed, bringing himself to eye level with Nathaniel. "The storm isn't our only concern," he admitted, honesty clear in his tone. "There's someone dangerous on the island... The person who killed Lord Carmichael and Ivar Ward, and we think he might be here in this house. We don't want anything to happen to you."
The boy's face paled further. "Is my mother safe?" he whispered, searching Finn's eyes for the truth.
Choosing his words with caution, Finn replied, "Lady Ferguson is in a place where no one can hurt her."
Nathaniel's eyes filled with tears, his voice barely a whisper. "I want to see her."
Before Finn could respond, a deafening crack of thunder erupted outside, shaking the window panes of Huldra House. Nathaniel let out a heart-wrenching scream, his body trembling violently.
The howling wind thrust forward, shattering the window and scattering shards of glass around the room. The unnerving shatter of glass seemed to freeze time for a split second. The storm's rage invaded the sanctuary of the room, and Nathaniel's mental clarity was ripped away, replaced by raw panic. As the wind whipped papers into the air from a nearby desk, his cries were swallowed up by the roar from outside.
