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"Please," Finn added earnestly, his blue eyes locked on Horace's fearful gaze. "We think people might be in danger. And we don't want to have to get a warrant to search your company's records to see exactly what type of work you carried out. We could even track down the workers who helped you."
For a moment, it seemed as though Horace would relent. But then, something shifted in his expression – a flicker of determination mixed with desperation. Without warning, he shoved Finn aside and scrambled onto the nearby scaffolding.
"Wait!" Finn shouted, lunging after him. His heart raced as he tried to keep up with Horace, who was surprisingly agile despite his age.
"Horace, stop!" Amelia called out from below, her voice almost lost in the wind. "We don't want to hurt you! We just want some answers!"
Finn's pulse pounded in his ears as he navigated the precarious maze of metal beams, each step taken with the knowledge that one wrong move could send them both plummeting to the ground below. As they climbed higher, the air grew colder and thinner, making it difficult for Finn to catch his breath. Yet he pressed on, desperate to reach Horace before it was too late.
"Horace, it's dangerous up here!" Finn shouted, feeling the wind whip around them as they balanced precariously on the scaffolding. "We just want to talk!"
"Can't you understand?" Horace yelled back, his voice strained with fear. "If I tell you anything, my family will be killed!"
Finn felt it was the first confirmation of a conspiracy at play.
"Let us help you," Finn pleaded, inching closer along the metal beam. He tried not to look down at the dizzying drop below them. "We can protect you and your family."
"You're wrong!" Horace insisted, his eyes wild and desperate. "No one can protect us from them. They're too powerful!"
"Who are you talking about?" Finn demanded, his own fear momentarily replaced by frustration. "Who's threatening your family?"
But Horace didn't answer. Instead, he glanced down at the ground far below, then back at Finn, a mixture of resignation and terror in his eyes.
"Horace, don't do this!" Finn cried out, reaching for him. But it was too late.
With a heart-wrenching scream, Horace leaped from the scaffolding, plummeting through the air towards the unforgiving pavement below. Finn could only watch, helpless and horrified, as the man he'd been trying to save fell to his death.
"Horace!" Amelia's anguished cry echoed through the empty construction site, but there was nothing she or Finn could do. They made their way back down the elevator as quickly as possible, but all that greeted them was the bloodied, lifeless body of Horace. Finn's mind flowed with guilt. He wondered if he could have gotten to the man quicker. But that was a thought that would remain unanswered.
The secret that Horace had taken with him would remain buried, at least for now.
Finn clenched his fists, feeling a surge of anger and determination. Whoever was behind this – whoever had pushed Horace to such a desperate act – they wouldn't get away with it. No matter how powerful they were, Finn swore to himself that he would bring them down.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
The chilling wind swept through the narrow alley, blowing discarded newspapers and debris as the killer leaned against the brick wall, his eyes fixated on the building across the street. It was a dreary day in Sandhaven, and the rain had just started to drizzle down from the gray skies above. A group of detectives, their trench coats flapping in the wind, huddled around the spot where Horace Velace's lifeless body lay crumpled on the pavement.
"Horace took the leap," the killer muttered into the phone, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. "Looks like he kept our secret safe."
"Good," replied the man on the other end, his voice distorted by static. "We can't afford anyone else getting close to the truth."
The killer watched as Finn Wright, the blond-haired FBI agent with piercing blue eyes, approached the crime scene, his face etched with concern. His tall, muscular frame seemed out of place among the local police officers, but there was no denying his natural skill and intuition when it came to detective work. The killer couldn't help but be intrigued by this foreigner who had stumbled upon their macabre game.
"Seems like your American friend is here too," the killer remarked, keeping his voice level. "He's got a knack for showing up at the right time, doesn't he?"
"Keep an eye on him," the man ordered. "We need to know if Horace told him or that Inspector Winters anything before he died."
"Understood," the killer confirmed, his eyes following Finn as he examined the area around Horace's body. He could see him exchange words with Amelia Winters, their heads close together as they whispered urgently. The chemistry between them was palpable, adding another layer of complexity to this twisted game.
"Remember, we've come too far for any loose ends," the man warned before hanging up.
The killer continued to watch from the shadows, his mind racing with thoughts of what was to come. He couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction as he observed Finn and Amelia, knowing that their time was running out.
"Horace might've talked before he jumped," the man on the phone said, his voice tight with concern. "We need to be sure he didn't spill anything, even the slightest hint could end us and everything we've built."
"Don't worry. Arrangements have been made," the killer replied confidently, his eyes never leaving the scene across the street. He watched as Finn's strong hands gestured animatedly, explaining something to Amelia while her green eyes narrowed in concentration.
"Good," the man said, relief seeping into his tone. "I trust you'll take care of them too?"
