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“Can I drive this time? It clears my head?” Finn asked.
“Sure,” Amelia said.
“I mean, if you'd rather rock, papers, scissor it for the privilege?” Finn grinned.
“You can drive,” Amelia laughed.
Then, they were off. Finn and Amelia stepped back towards the door and looked out. The constables were still struggling with the crowd, but there was a way through. Quickly, they rushed through it, ignoring the taunts from the crowd, rushing towards their car to see what hidden clues could be found in the Harding's emails.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The cold, icy rain lashed against the windshield with a relentless rhythm, blurring the quaint streetlamps of the village as they sped past. Finn's hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white from the effort to keep the car steady on the slick cobblestones. Beside him, Amelia's profile was illuminated intermittently by the passing lights, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.
"Feels wrong, doesn't it?" Amelia broke the silence, her voice cutting through the drumming of the downpour. "Leaving the real estate bloke back there with that mob."
Finn chuckled dryly, a brief smirk playing on his lips as he navigated a tight bend. "If he's not safe in a castle, then where is he safe?" he said, the irony not lost on him. His eyes lingered for a moment on the rear-view mirror, where the faint outline of the ancient fortress loomed like a brooding sentinel in the distance.
"True," Amelia conceded, tucking a stray lock of red hair behind her ear. "But still, those protesters were quite heated."
"A few of your finest are with him," Finn remarked, easing off the accelerator as they approached a pedestrian crossing. "And honestly, trying to escort him out in front of them might've just thrown fuel on the fire. Best to let things cool down a bit."
Amelia nodded, folding her arms as she settled back into her seat. The glow from the dashboard cast shifting shadows across her face, highlighting her furrowed brow and the determined set of her jaw. She was tough, Finn had to give her that; not many could handle the kind of pressure this case was exerting.
“Do you think the murderer might be among these emails?” Finn asked.
“Are you coming around to the idea then that Vilne isn't the killer?” Amelia answered with a question.
“I don't know,” Finn sighed. “I still think he's involved.”
Amelia said nothing, but Finn knew how she felt.
They drove on in silence for a while, each lost in thought as the wipers swept back and forth in a futile attempt to clear their the way. Sometimes Finn felt his mind was just as obscured, but he abstained from making a “wipers for my brain” joke.
The wipers battled against the persistent drizzle, leaving streaks across the windshield that distorted the glow of streetlights. Finn could feel the weariness in his bones as he drove, the kind that came not just from long hours, but from the weight of unsolved questions pressing on his mind.
"Keeps coming back to me," Finn murmured, more to himself than to Amelia, "the choice of weapon. Medieval, isn't it? A bit dramatic for a modern-day killing."
"Symbolic?" Amelia suggested, her gaze steady on the road ahead.
"Has to be. Whoever did this wanted to make a point." Finn's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "Thomas and Lily were altering the castle's identity. It's like...like they were cut down for not respecting its history."
"Preservation by bloodshed," Amelia remarked dryly.
"Exactly." Finn exhaled slowly. "It's someone who sees themselves as the guardian of that place. Our killer doesn't deal in renovations—they deal in retribution."
Amelia glanced at him, her eyes reflecting the passing lights. "Speaking of guardians, what about you and Demi? When we catch Max Vilne, are you planning to leave the country with her?"
Finn's grip on the wheel faltered for a fraction of a second before he caught himself. He peered out into the dark, where the silhouettes of buildings slipped past them like silent sentinels. "I don't know, Amelia. I really don't."
"Is it about her safety?" she pressed gently, sensing there was more beneath the surface.
"Partly." Finn's voice was thick with unspoken thoughts. He darted a glance at Amelia, noting the concern etched on her features. "It's about making sure everyone I care about is safe. But how do you safeguard people from a man like Vilne? He's not just a killer; he's a force of nature—unpredictable, unstoppable."
"Then we'll have to be the immovable object," Amelia replied with quiet conviction.
"Quite the pair we'd make," Finn said with a half-smile, though his eyes remained shadowed by doubt.
"Unstoppable force meets immovable object. Sounds like a bad thriller novel," Amelia said, trying to lighten the mood.
