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"Ownership?" Amelia asked, her eyebrows knitting together in concern.
Finn's eyes were focused on the road ahead, but his thoughts were racing far beyond it. "Yeah. You know, the old stories around here tell of a land filled with forgotten mines and smuggler tunnels. What if someone's using them for something far more sinister? Like a people smuggling ring, targeting vulnerable women. Shipping them around to the influential."
"Like modern-day slavery," Amelia whispered, her voice heavy with disgust.
"Exactly," Finn confirmed, his jaw set with determination. "And if that's the case, then maybe all roads don't lead to Rome – or Helford, for that matter. Maybe they lead to St Martins Castle."
Amelia nodded slowly, seeing where he was going with this. "So, you think there's a connection between the Brentfords, these tunnels, and the castle?"
"I'd bet on it," Finn replied, his grip tightening on the wheel. "I wouldn't be surprised if those tunnels run from the Brentford mansion on the coast all the way to St Martins Castle. That woman could have been transported to the castle from there, and those are probably just two locations within some larger network."
"Then something went wrong the other night," Mulberry added, his tone somber. "One of the women managed to escape. They hunted her down, and in the process, Dolores Mayweather and Helen Baxter were killed because they saw something they shouldn't have."
"It makes sense," Finn agreed, his eyes narrowing as he pieced things together. "It all adds up. But how do we prove any of this?"
"First, we need more evidence," Amelia said, her green eyes determined. "And we need to find a way to access those tunnels without alerting anyone. They'll cover it up otherwise. Maybe they've grown so arrogant that they don't realize how close we are."
"Then let's pay this Brentford Mansion a visit," Finn suggested, his heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. "If we find a tunnel that runs from there to the castle, it'll support the theory that the two families are part of this."
As Finn stepped on the gas, he could feel the weight of responsibility settling upon his shoulders. This was not just about solving a case anymore; it was about saving lives and bringing justice to those who had suffered at the hands of a sinister network hidden beneath the surface. And he would stop at nothing until he had uncovered every last secret that lay buried in the darkness.
Mulberry furrowed his brow, clearly deep in thought. "But what about the fourth victim? The one with the tattoo? Why was she murdered?" he asked, glancing at Amelia.
Amelia's eyes darkened as she recalled their confrontation with the Keatings. "When we were outside Charles Keatings' room, we heard him propositioning the victim," she said, her voice tense. "She was saying no, but he wasn't taking no for an answer."
Finn clenched his fists on the steering wheel, angry at the thought of the girl being put in such a vulnerable position. "So when we arrested Charles, and Edward Keatings was distracted, she took the chance to escape?" he inquired, seeking confirmation.
"Exactly," Amelia nodded. "She must have run out of the tunnels, panicked and disoriented. In her haste, she fell out of the tunnel exit, down the hill and broke her neck."
"Damn," Finn muttered, imagining the terror the girl must have felt in her final moments. He couldn't shake the image from his mind - the desperation, the pain, the loneliness.
"Before the killer could remove her body, someone possibly saw it and ran off to get the police," Amelia continued. "The killer realized they had been exposed, so they caved in the tunnel to prevent anyone from snooping around."
"An exciting theory," Mulberry admitted, his eyes lit up like a kid, "but how do we prove it?"
"First, we need concrete evidence," Finn replied, his mind racing with possibilities. "We'll need to find a way to access those tunnels without alerting anyone involved in this operation."
"Right," Mulberry agreed. "And we also need to connect the dots between the victims and tie them back to Brentford Mansion and St. Martins Castle. Otherwise, a tunnel between both places might let us know we're on the right track, but it's not enough on its own to start wading in and arresting people."
"Alright," Finn said, determination in his voice, as he gripped the steering wheel. "We need to go to Brentford Mansion and see if we can find more active tunnels."
"Actually, Brentford Mansion isn't far from where we are now," Mulberry chimed in, pointing at a turn up ahead.
"Perfect." Finn quickly took the turn, putting his foot down on the accelerator. The car sped through the darkening evening, trees blurring by as they rushed towards their destination.
"Are you sure we'll be able to get in without being noticed?" Amelia asked, anxiety creeping into her voice.
"I've been thinking about that," Finn reassured her, his eyes scanning the road for any signs of the mansion. "When I chased the shooter at St Martins Castle, he no doubt disappeared into a tunnel in the woods. And we found the caved-in tunnel entrance in another part of the estate where the fourth victim was found. I'm betting that there are multiple entrances and exits in case they ever get chased by the law. If Brentford Mansion is the same as the castle, we'll find a tunnel entrance in the grounds. We won't even need to get inside the house."
Nothing else was said, just several minutes of the drone of the car engine. Then, Mulberry pointed along a long straight country road.
As they neared the mansion, Finn's palms grew slick with sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew they were taking a huge risk, but if it meant saving more innocent lives and bringing those responsible to justice, it was a risk he was willing to take.
"Get ready," Finn warned, his voice barely above a whisper as the car crept closer to the looming silhouette of Brentford Mansion. "Whatever's waiting for us in there, we need to be prepared to face it. It's likely our shooter has other guns."
"Understood," Amelia said, her own voice steady despite the fear that flickered in her eyes. Mulberry simply nodded, his expression grim.
The air was now thick with the scent of the sea, and nearby, cliffs darted down to a roaring surf that swelled tumultuously
