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CHAPTER NINE
The killer knew he was taking a risk with so many police around, but he had to observe their operation to protect his own. He had to know how close they were to uncovering the truth. Returning to a crime scene was foolish, being a professional, this he knew. And so he tried his best to keep his distance, but close enough to evaluate how to move forward.
Through the lenses of his binoculars, the killer's view of the river was clear and unobstructed. Standing atop a secluded hill, he watched with a cold detachment as police and forensics teams scoured the scene where the bodies had been found. The tumultuous waters on the river ebbing and flowing like the chaos he had unleashed.
Despite his elevated position, he felt an unsettling sensation of vulnerability, and fragility was not something he liked to admit in himself. He usually felt strong, and he disposed of the weak when they got in his way. The binoculars brought him closer to the scene, a silent observer to the aftermath of his actions. He watched as the investigators moved meticulously, examining every inch of the riverbank, every piece of evidence that could possibly lead them to him.
As he observed, his thoughts drifted to the meticulous planning that he had always taken as a point of pride. He had to admit that he had always enjoyed killing, but that had been tempered with strategy. But something had changed inside of him recently. Something had snapped.
Had everything he'd worked on been thrown away in a rash moment of blood lust?
Suddenly, something caught his eye. Near the castle, a car emerged from its black gates. The car was moving slowly on the water-logged road.
He adjusted the focus on his binoculars, zeroing in on the driver and his passenger. The passenger was the woman detective he had seen earlier that morning while observing from afar, her red hair distinct even from this distance. Next to her was her partner, the man who had recently arrived in Cornwall. Blond hair and muscular, there was no doubt that they were Finn Wright and Amelia Winters, the two detectives who had set the upper class aflame with gossip of murder mysteries and deranged killers put behind bars. It had been all over the papers, but the killer had already heard about them through rubbing shoulders with people far richer, far more powerful, and far more dangerous.
They were chatting as they drove, it looked like Finn was cracking jokes to Amelia. They seemed more relaxed than they should have been.
The killer felt a surge of adrenaline at the sight of them. They were the embodiment of the challenge he now faced, the obstacle to his continued freedom. Were they relaxed because they knew something, or because they had no idea about how deep the conspiracy went?
He had heard of their reputation, their knack for solving even the most complex cases. A part of him relished the thought of outwitting them, of being the one case they couldn't crack.
But another part of him, the part that had kept him safe and undetected for so long, urged caution. He couldn't afford to underestimate them, to get caught up in a game of cat and mouse. He had to stay ahead, to remain invisible.
He lowered the binoculars, taking a moment to scan the horizon. The Cornish countryside stretched out before him, a landscape of rolling hills and dense forests that had always been his sanctuary. It was a place where he could hide, where he could plan his next move without fear of prying eyes.
But now, with the police closing in, even this haven felt compromised. He knew he couldn't stay here forever, that he would have to move soon. But where? And how?
He tucked the binoculars into his coat and turned away from the scene, his mind racing with possibilities and plans. He had to be smart, to be patient. The game had changed, and he needed to adapt if he was going to survive.
As he walked away from the hill, blending into the shadows of the trees, he felt a sense of resolve settle over him. He had come too far to be caught now, there was too much at stake, and if he didn't protect it, they would make sure he slept in a shallow grave.
He would watch, wait, and if there were more loose ends or obstacles in his way, he would strike again. And this time, he would leave no trace.
CHAPTER TEN
Finn and Amelia returned to Helford police station, the deteriorating exterior of which was in stark contrast with their investigation’s urgency. Constable Mulberry awaited them, displaying his typical high spirits. The room they were given as a temporary office still struck Finn as antiquated. It was stark and barren; its walls decorated with an evidence board that was slowly being filled. Two laptops sat atop the aged desk, drawing attention for their modernity.
Mulberry stood up from his computer and walked over to Finn and Amelia.
Finn rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he glanced around the space. "Any luck finding out who our third victim is?" he questioned, facing Constable Mulberry.
Mulberry shook his head sadly in response. "No luck yet, unfortunately," he said with visible disappointment on his face. "It's like she just showed up one day."
"I wonder if she's different from the other two victims," Amelia said.
"Just what I was thinking," Finn agreed. "No one has flagged us for a missing daughter from a rich family estate or anything like that. It could be that she has a different background."
"Did you find anything out at the Keatings Estate?" Mulberry asked.
Finn exhaled, feeling the burden of their unanswered queries grow heavier. "We found something," he muttered, handing over his notes. "Wilson and Sons; a construction company that's currently working on fixing the castle. There's about 30 of them working the site, and if the woman were murdered nearby, one of them could be our guy. We have to find out if any of their employees have sketchy backgrounds, and I'd rather do that before speaking to the company. I don't know about in the UK, but back home, some construction companies have links to organized crime, and they might not cooperate with our inquiries"
"I'll take a look," Mulberry said, sitting back down.
He quickly typed away on one of the laptops, accessing the police database. They waited in silence as his search ran its course.
Eventually, Mulberry looked up with an expression of surprise. "I have something," he declared. "Terrance Feldman, a foreman at Wilson and Sons, has a criminal record. He spent five years in jail for attempted murder. He's on parole, so we have record of his current employment, which is with Wilson and Sons."
Amelia nodded. "Was the victim female?" she questioned assertively.
