AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Demi?" Amelia guessed, her sharp intuition cutting straight to the matter.
"Yeah," he said, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. Demi's shadow loomed large in his life, a constant reminder of vulnerabilities he could ill afford. “Just for a moment. I felt I was a bit sharp with her earlier. If you don't mind, then I'll look at this phone.”
"Okay," she said. "But remember, people besides Demi are counting on us. The Richmond's family for one."
Finn nodded, the air of the station suddenly stifling as he pushed through the double doors and out into the brisk evening. The sky above Garden City was streaked with clouds and stars, an oil painting punctuated by the silhouettes of buildings. He dialed Demi's number, each ring gnawing at his resolve until her voice came through, laced with that familiar tension.
"Hey, it's me," Finn said, his words steady despite the turmoil beneath. "Just checking in. Are you safe?"
“Hi, you've reached Demi, sorry you can't reach me...”
Finn hung up the answering message. He looked up at the stars and breathed in the cold air. Then, he turned and went back inside. But Demi was still sharp in his mind, and her safety would not leave his thoughts.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
The corridor outside the interview room was a sterile expanse of linoleum and fluorescent light. Finn leaned against the cool wall, his gaze lingering on the closed door as he fished out his cellphone with a practiced hand. With a thumb that remembered every contour of her number, he dialed Demi again, listening to the trill of the ringtone that seemed too cheerful for the tense silence that surrounded him.
"Come on, Demi," he muttered under his breath. The phone continued its electronic serenade to no avail. Voicemail greeted him, once more, impersonal and brisk. Finn's jaw tightened, and he ended the call without leaving a message. He couldn't shake the feeling that she was avoiding his calls on purpose.
With a sigh, Finn's attention shifted to the object of interest in his other hand—Arron Reinhardt's confiscated phone. His fingers danced over the screen, entering the security pin code with the ease of someone who had done this more times than he cared to count. The familiar click sound confirmed his entry, and the phone's contents spilled open in front of him like a digital Pandora's box.
"Let's see what secrets you're holding," Finn murmured, swiping through the interface. Apps and folders flickered past, each an unspoken chapter of Arron's life.
Finn's thumb hovered over the messaging icon on Arron Reinhardt's phone, his anticipation a silent hum in his veins. A tap, and the screen shifted to reveal an empty void where one would expect a clutter of communications—an expanse of digital nothingness.
"Clean as a whistle," Finn muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. "Too clean."
He rubbed at the stubble on his chin, the slight abrasion grounding him in thought. Could IT work their magic on this? he wondered but knew better than to hope blindly. The department's tech wizards had a knack for resurrecting lost data, yet some ghosts were determined to stay buried.
"Messages deleted," he spoke into the air, almost expecting the walls to hold counsel with him. "But why scrub it so thoroughly, Reinhardt? What are you so desperate to hide?"
His finger swiped through the phone's gallery next, the flicker of images casting shadows across his focused expression. He paused on photographs of stately homes, their regal facades marred by poor composition and erratic focus.
"Blown highlights and cut-off spires," Finn scrutinized aloud, his voice tinged with professional disdain. "You never had much respect for the craft, did you, Arron?"
He felt the pieces of the puzzle jostling for position in his mind, each photo a clue in the grander scheme. His gaze fell upon a picture of a grandiose manor, its stone lions standing sentinel at the gates.
"Chillingham Castle, or is it...?" Finn trailed off, realization dawning. He looked at the tagged data. "No, it's Highclere—my word, they're all here. From North to South."
The energy in the hallway shifted, charged with the acute awareness that each image was a breadcrumb leading to a truth yet unveiled. Finn's thumb swiped with precision, cataloging the visual inventory of England's aristocratic heritage as seen through the lens of a criminal mind.
"From Cornwall to Cumbria," he continued, the rhythm of his words a metronome to his racing thoughts. "What were you after, Reinhardt? Not just souvenirs, I reckon."
The action of scrolling became mechanical, the estate after estate parading before his eyes, yet Finn's thoughts were far from the device in his hand. They took flight, soaring over the rolling hills and manicured gardens, seeking the connection between the images and the crime.
"Stately homes," Finn broke the silence again, addressing the empty space before him as if it held the key. "And what lies within."
The notion settled heavily within him, a weighty conviction that he was peering through a window into Arron Reinhardt's clandestine excursions—a voyeur to the prelude of something sinister.
"IT might not get back the texts," Finn acknowledged, pocketing the phone with a decisive click. "But these photos...they speak volumes."
With a deep breath, Finn prepared to step back into the fray, the images imprinted in his memory. Each pixelated facade was now etched with urgency, a silent siren call to action. It was time to bring the unspoken narrative of those pictures to light, to expose the darkness lurking behind the splendor of historic stone and mortar.
But something then bothered him. Something that his brain had picked up but had yet to fully reveal to him.
Finn tapped the screen of Arron's phone, his fingers deftly navigating through the labyrinth of apps and icons again. The dull hum of the precinct buzzed around him, each officer orbiting their own centers of gravity, their own cases. But within Finn's grasp, he held a sliver of another world—a digital trove that beckoned with silent promises of revelation.
"Ah," Finn murmured as an icon flickered under his touch, revealing a second online gallery that hadn't been apparent before. His thumb hovered over it. "What have you got hidden away here, Reinhardt?"
