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"Where the hell did this come from?" he groaned.
"British weather," Amelia said, looking out of the window.
Finn glanced at her for a moment. She seemed in a daze again. Much like she had on the train into Cornwall. He was starting to suspect that something was eating away at her.
“There's something about Cornwall, isn't there? It's a special place,” Finn offered.
“Yes,” was all Amelia said, sounding as though she were in a dream.
“It would be a nice place to stay in, if we weren't tracking a killer,” Finn said, trying.
“Yeah, it'd be nice,” Amelia replied, as though repeating Finn's words without engaging.
The car wound its way through the Cornish countryside, the road snaking towards Morgan's Bay, a picturesque town that sat nestled along the rugged coastline, currently battered by the elements. Finn drove with a practiced ease, his eyes occasionally darting to Amelia, who sat beside him, her gaze lost in the passing scenery.
The silence in the car was palpable, filled only by the low hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of the map in Amelia's hands. Finn had tried to initiate conversation a few times, but Amelia's responses were short, her mind clearly elsewhere.
He glanced at her again, noting the distant look in her eyes. "Everything okay?" he ventured, his voice tinged with concern. "You've been quiet since the train."
Amelia turned her head slightly, her green eyes meeting his. There was a momentary flicker of something – was it sadness? – before she masked it with a halfhearted smile. "I'm fine, Finn. Just thinking about the case."
Finn wasn't convinced. The Amelia he knew was always engaged, always ready with a theory or a quip. This withdrawn version of her was unsettling. "You sure?" he pressed gently. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"
She sighed softly, turning her gaze back to the window. "I know, Finn. I appreciate it. It's just..." Her voice trailed off, leaving her thoughts hanging in the air.
Finn waited for her to continue, but when she didn't, he decided not to push. He focused on the road ahead, the quaint cottages and lush greenery of Morgan's Bay coming into view.
As they approached the town center, the quiet of the countryside gave way to the gentle bustle of a small town. People walked along the streets, popping in and out of shops, while cars navigated the narrow roads with courteous patience.
"Can you check your GPS on your phone? I think Williams and Sons is supposed to be on this street," Finn asked, breaking the silence.
Amelia nodded, her fingers tracing the edge of the map. "Yes, it's just off the main street. Hopefully, we can get some answers about this Feldman character and any connection he might have to our victims."
The mention of the case seemed to bring a bit of the familiar spark back into her eyes. Finn was relieved to see it, even if it was fleeting. They had a job to do, and he knew they worked best when they were both fully engaged.
He parked the car in a small lot near the construction company's office, a modest building that stood in contrast to the charming storefronts around it. As they got out of the car, Finn took a moment to look at Amelia.
"Ready for this?" he asked, offering her a reassuring smile.
Amelia nodded, her professional demeanor firmly in place. "Finn, I'm fine. Honestly. It's just this time of year."
She opened the door and stepped out into the rain, closing it behind her. Finn followed suit. The rain was icy cold and immediately made its way down the back of Finn's neck.
"Can we make the next case in the Caribbean?" Finn shouted.
Amelia didn't answer. She dashed through the downpour, Finn following, seeking refuge inside the modest building of Wilson and Sons Construction Company. The rain had come on quickly, a typical Cornish squall that drenched everything in its path.
They shook off the rain as they entered, greeted by the warm interior and the bright smile of the receptionist who sat behind a neatly organized desk. Her demeanor was all cheer and professionalism, a stark contrast to the dreary weather outside.
"Welcome to Williams and Sons," she said. "How can I help you?"
Amelia showed her ID. "I'm Inspector Winters currently with the Home Office."
"We need to speak with Mr. Kilbraid, the owner, if he's available," Finn said, his tone polite yet firm.
The receptionist's smile never faltered as she nodded. "Of course, let me just check if he's in." She rose gracefully and disappeared through a door at the back of the room.
Finn and Amelia exchanged a quick glance, both aware that their arrival might not be as inconspicuous as they'd hoped. In the brief silence of the waiting area, Finn’s ears caught the muffled sound of a low, masculine voice speaking with the receptionist. He couldn't make out the words, but the tone suggested urgency.
