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"Let me think," the guard said, his gaze shifting to the dirt floor as he pondered her question. "Well, now that you mention it, there is one person who might fit the bill – the son of Lord Keatings who owned the castle owner until he passed away a few years ago in a hunting accident. Bloke knows the castle inside and out, practically grew up in its halls. Bit of a creep, if you ask me. I've seen him lust after some of the young women who've came to the castle as guests over the years, even following them around late at night. Though... Don't tell anyone I said that. I'd get fired. "
Finn raised an eyebrow at this revelation, his mind racing with possibilities. If someone knew the castle's secrets well enough to use them to their advantage, it could change everything about the case. And if that person happened to have stalking habits, well, that only made them all the more suspicious.
"Wait, do you mean Edward Keatings?" Finn asked, his curiosity piqued by the guard's description of the castle owner's son.
The guard shook his head. "Nah, not Edward. He's straight-laced. There's another Keatings who lives here – Charles. He's the one you're looking for."
Finn glanced at Amelia, his eyes narrowing in thought as he processed this new information. He remembered how the case had brought them to the castle, but now it seemed that they were delving deeper into a web of deceit and hidden secrets. The mention of Charles Keatings added another layer of complexity to their investigation, and he felt a familiar thrill of excitement course through him as he considered the implications.
"Charles Keatings, huh?" Finn murmured, turning back to the guard. "I guess we'll need to pay him a little visit, won't we, Amelia?"
"That's right," she replied, her voice steady. "And why the hell Edward and Joseline Keatings didn't mention his presence here."
Finn turned to the guard. "We're going to need a little favor."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The cold wind bit at the killer's face as he watched from a distance, hidden in the shadows of the towering castle walls. His eyes were fixed on the spot where Finn Wright and Amelia Winters had disappeared into the secret tunnel 30 minutes earlier. He had watched in disbelief, and now that the killer was satisfied they were far enough away, he had to take a closer look.
An unrelenting itch began to spread through his veins, fueling his anger toward the two interlopers.
"Damn them," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible against the howling wind. It was becoming increasingly obvious that their presence was in danger of bringing down everything he and the others had built.
He clenched his fists, feeling the leather gloves tighten around his fingers. The two investigators had no idea how much time and effort he had put into his meticulous plan. They didn't know how many lives had been carefully orchestrated, like pawns on a chessboard, just so everything would fall into place. And now, these two meddlesome snoops threatened to bring it all crashing down.
"Stupid, nosy cretins," he growled, flexing his hands in an attempt to release some of the pent-up energy coursing through him.
As his eyes remained locked on the entrance to the tunnel, his mind raced with thoughts of Finn. The killer had been doing a little research of his own. He knew about the FBI agent's suspension and the devastating breakup that had followed. It sickened him that such a man could potentially ruin his plans. A man he saw as weak.
"His life is already falling apart," the killer thought, his lips curling into a sinister smile. "It's only fitting that I finish the job."
Amelia, too, was a thorn in his side. Her reputation as a skilled investigator made her a formidable opponent. But it was the undeniable chemistry between her and Finn that truly infuriated him. Their connection seemed to make them stronger, more determined to unravel the web of deceit he'd spun so carefully over the years. From the killer's research, he had learned of their previous cases and how they hadn't stopped until they had solved each one.
"I won't let them solve this one," he whispered to himself, his voice filled with venom.
His heart pounded with a mixture of rage and anticipation as he continued to stare at the entrance to the tunnel. He could feel the itch growing stronger, more insistent, urging him to act. But he knew that rashness often led to mistakes, and mistakes had brought down others similar to himself.
"Patience," he told himself, taking a slow, deep breath to steady his nerves. "I've waited this long; I can wait a little longer."
As he watched and waited, the anger swirled within him like a storm, driving him toward a single, all-consuming purpose: To eliminate Finn Wright and Amelia Winters and remove them from his devious games of chess.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Finn glanced warily around him as he and Amelia followed the security guard up the narrow, creaky cellar stairs. The dim light from the guard's flashlight cast eerie shadows on the rough stone walls, making the hairs on the back of Finn's neck stand up. Amelia's soft breathing was barely audible over the sound of their footsteps on the wooden stairs.
"Here," the guard grunted, pushing open a door to reveal a small side room. Dust motes floated in the air as Finn peered inside, taking in the cluttered shelves and worn carpet. "This is where I keep my things."
"Thanks," Finn said, his voice tight with tension. He turned to face the guard, his eyes pleading. "Listen, we just want to have a look around and speak with Charles Keatings, Edward's brother. We won't cause any trouble, I promise."
The guard hesitated, chewing on his lower lip as he weighed the options. "I could get fired for not removing you two from the premises when I found you in the cellar," he said, his voice gruff with uncertainty.
"Please," Amelia chimed in, her green eyes wide and imploring. "We're just trying to get some answers. We need to find out who killed those women, and to stop it from happening again."
Finn could see the gears turning in the guard's head, his brow furrowed with indecision. He knew that the man was just doing his job, but they needed to find Charles Keatings if they had any hope of cracking this case. It was a risky move, but Finn decided to appeal to the guard's better nature.
"Look, I understand that you're just doing your job," Finn began, his voice calm and steady, despite the nerves gnawing at him. "But we're trying to solve a murder here. Don't you want to help us bring the killer to justice?"
The guard sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he considered Finn's words. "Alright," he conceded, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But if I get in trouble for this, I'm telling them it was your idea."
