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"Take a look at this," Finn said, pointing at some black marks on the exposed rock. "These scorch marks... I reckon someone destroyed the tunnel on purpose, so we can't trace where it leads."
"Whoever did this knew we were getting close," Amelia mused, concern furrowing her brow.
Finn sighed, frustration simmering beneath the surface. We're running out of time, he thought, feeling the weight of responsibility growing heavy on his shoulders. We're playing catch-up with a killer who's always one step ahead.
"Let's head back down and regroup," Amelia suggested, her voice steady despite the mounting pressure. "We'll figure this out, Finn."
Nodding in agreement, Finn took one last look at the destroyed tunnel before they began their descent.
With each step closer to the crime scene, Finn's resolve strengthened. This was no time for doubts or hesitation - it was time for action. But he was unsure of what action to take.
"Alright," Finn said, clapping his hands together as they reached the bottom of the hill. "What's our next move?"
Amelia paused for a moment, seemingly considering their options.
"Let's head back to the station and look into that tattoo," she suggested, her voice resolute. She took one last look at the crime scene, her gaze lingering on the woman's lifeless body, and then turned away.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
The dim lighting in Helford Police Station's cramped evidence room cast elongated shadows across the peeling walls, giving an eerie feeling to the space. Finn Wright stood near the evidence board, scanning the photos and notes that covered it like a patchwork quilt of death. Amelia Winters carefully pinned up the photograph of their latest victim, a young woman with lifeless eyes staring into the void.
"Another victim gone," Finn mused, his voice heavy with sorrow. "We know she was a prostitute, right? That means maybe our Jane Doe from the riverbank yesterday was in the same line of work." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, trying to find connections in the chaos.
Amelia bit her lip, hesitating before speaking. "That might have been what she was, Finn. But the tattoo on this new victim is different. It doesn't seem like something a typical prostitute would have. It looks like high quality work, and something with a historical background. It doesn't sit right with me."
Finn looked closer at the photo, noticing the intricate design inked onto the victim's thigh. "You're right; it's unusual. But we can't rule out any possibilities yet."
"Of course not," Amelia agreed, her green eyes focused intently on the evidence board. "But it's worth considering that this might not be as straightforward as it seems."
As Finn contemplated Amelia's words, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. His thoughts raced, bouncing between potential leads and dead ends. The pressure to solve these cases weighed heavily on him, especially given his current situation—suspended by the FBI and left by his fiancee, Demi. Helford had been an escape, but now he found himself entangled in a web of murder and deceit alongside Amelia.
"Let's see if we can find out more about this tattoo," Finn suggested, pulling out his phone and accessing the photo he had taken of the victim's leg. Amelia leaned over his shoulder as Finn uploaded the image onto their computer and initiated a reverse image search. They both stared at the screen as the results started to populate.
"Look, it's a coat of arms," Amelia pointed out as a matching image appeared on the screen. "It belongs to the Brentford family."
Finn clicked on the link, and they were directed to a page detailing the history and influence of the Brentfords in Cornwall. Their wealth and power were evident, with numerous articles and images showcasing their lush estates and business ventures.
"Interesting," Amelia mused, her brow furrowing in thought. "Why would a woman from such a rich family end up in this line of work?"
"Money doesn't solve everything," Finn replied, his voice tinged with a hint of cynicism. He knew all too well that wealth could not shield one from personal turmoil or emotional pain. For some, perhaps, the darkness that eventually consumed them was even more profound.
"True," Amelia conceded. "So let's say our victim started with a rich background and then somehow fell into prostitution."
"It's a start," Finn nodded, his mind working overtime as he tried to piece together the seemingly disparate elements of the case. How did these victims, some of whom came from elite backgrounds, end up connected to a series of brutal murders? What was the common thread tying them together?
"Let's start by finding out everything we can about the Brentford family," Amelia proposed, taking charge. "We'll look into their connections, their businesses, anything that might help us understand why one of their own would end up like this."
"Sounds like a plan," Finn agreed, grateful for Amelia’s determination and focus.
Finn stared at the computer screen, the information on the Brentfords swimming before his eyes. Suddenly, a thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. He sprang from his chair and dashed over to the evidence board.
"Amelia, look!" he exclaimed, pointing at the photos of the four victims. "Dolores Mayweather was a distant relative to the Prime Minister, remember? And Helen Baxter was related to the Keatings who own St Martins Castle."
Amelia's eyes widened as she absorbed the information. "You're right," she murmured, her gaze moving back and forth between the photographs. "But that could simply be because the victims were in the vicinity of the castle and came across the killer's territory."
"Exactly," Finn said, his heart pounding with excitement. "But, if the latest victim is a member of the rich Brentford family, and the other two identified victims also have a rich background, it stands to reason that the unidentified victim is also from a wealthy, elite family."
Amelia nodded, her brow furrowing in concentration. "At least it gives us a target profile, if nothing else. We can see what type of victim the killer is targeting. He could have a vendetta against " She glanced back at the computer screen, her face alive with possibilities.
