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"Ah, I think I know who you mean," the second firefighter said, scratching the back of his neck beneath the rim of his helmet. "Got a name?"
"Finn Wright," he announced, assuming the pose from the newspaper article—the one where he appeared in deep contemplation, fingers brushing his chin, eyes narrowed in thought. It was part theatrics, part earnest appeal.
"Let me get a good look at you," the first firefighter squinted, scrutinizing Finn's features. A beat passed, laden with the tension of recognition.
"Alright, Finn Wright. Go ahead," he relented, stepping aside with a nod that carried the weight of reluctant respect.
"Thanks," Finn breathed out, relief threading through the gratitude. As he moved past the firefighters, their radios crackled with updates, a sonic backdrop to the tragedy unfolding.
Inside, the air hung heavy with the scent of ruin. Each step on the staircase was a silent testament to the chaos that had raged within these walls. Finn ascended with purpose, the pulse of his mission thrumming in his veins. He could almost feel the heat of the fire that had licked its way across the room of an inspector who'd swiftly become more than just a partner to him.
Amelia needed him. That single thought cleaved through the fog of smoke, honing his focus to a razor's edge. Whatever awaited them in the remnants of her life, they would confront it together. Finn Wright didn't just chase after truths hidden in shadows—he chased after those he deemed his responsibility.
"Amelia," he whispered, the name bolstering his stride as he reached the landing. Ahead lay the charred skeleton of what once was a sanctuary, now laid bare for all to see. Finn steeled himself for the sight of devastation, ready to offer whatever solace he could muster in the face of such loss.
Finn's boots clapped an urgent rhythm against the stairs as he ascended to the third floor, the air growing more acrid with each flight. His lungs protested the residual fumes, but the sound of muffled weeping propelled him forward, eclipsing his discomfort.
"Amelia!" he called out as he reached her apartment, the door a blackened void in an otherwise orderly hallway.
The room beyond was a desolate landscape, shadows clinging to the scorched walls where memories had once flourished. Finn’s eyes darted across the devastation, finally settling on Amelia’s silhouette, her figure a stark contrast amid the charred remains of her living room. Firefighters moved like specters in the background, their presence a grim reminder of the day's events.
"Everything... I've lost everything," Amelia's voice broke through the silence, barely above a whisper.
Finn closed the distance between them in swift strides. "Amelia," he said softly, reaching out to envelop her in a protective embrace.
She leaned into him, her body trembling as if she might crumble without his support. Finn could feel the fight in her, the resilience that made her an exceptional inspector, now momentarily eclipsed by vulnerability.
"I'm here," he murmured, his hand finding its way to her hair, fingers brushing away soot and sorrow with equal tenderness. "We'll get through this."
The faint crackle of a firefighter's radio punctuated the moment, a subtle reminder of the peril that had passed—and the dangers that might still lurk. Finn's gaze swept the room, taking in every detail, the gears of his analytical mind already turning. He wasn't just here to console; he was here to find answers.
"Okay?" he asked, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes, seeking confirmation that she was ready to stand with him against the looming threat.
Amelia nodded, a fragile determination settling over her features. "Okay."
With the quiet resolve that had come to define their partnership, they stepped back from the edge of despair and toward the unknown dangers ahead. There was work to be done, and neither fire nor foe would deter them from seeking justice.
Finn watched his partner intently as Amelia's eyes found the firefighter's boots first, coated in a film of ash as they approached through the detritus of her living room. The soles left imprints on the charred carpet, temporary marks that were nothing compared to the permanent scars the fire had etched into her life.
"Inspector Winters?" The firefighter's voice was gentle amid the crackling remnants of her sanctuary.
Amelia glanced up, to the reflective visor and and eyes that Finn felt held concern but not the answers his partner sought.
"I'm... I'll manage," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt, wiping away the tears that betrayed her stoicism.
"Any idea how this got started?" Finn asked, motioning towards an evidence bag that another firefighter was carefully sealing.
"Tell me it's not what it looks like," Amelia said, her gaze fixating on the bag with a grim intuition.
"Can't be certain until the lab results come back, but..." The firefighter's hesitation confirmed her fears before his words did. "Looks deliberate. Found remnants of paper, soaked in what seems like an accelerant, probably petrol, in the bedroom."
The word 'deliberat' seemed to change Amelia's demeanor. Finn imagined that it echoed in Amelia's mind, a sinister whisper that stirred the embers of suspicion she harbored.
"Anyone you can think of who'd do this?" The firefighter's question hung heavy in the air, weighted with implications that Finn wished Amelia could ignore. But he knew they could not ignore what that firemeant.
She turned to Finn, who had been watching the exchange with hawk-like intensity. His jaw set, a telltale sign of his resolve hardening. "Max Vilne," he stated, the name falling like a gavel, marking both accusation and verdict.
"Vilne..." Amelia's own voice sounded distant. To Finn, it was as if she didn't know how to respond to what had happened—her home, her refuge, now reduced to ruins by a ghost from their shared past.
