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"Amelia, it's no use," he insisted, his unsteady hand gripping her arm. "He's gone. He knew I was coming. He would have planned a meticulous escape."
Her eyes, filled with concern and frustration, met his for a moment before she nodded tersely. "We might get lucky. Even Vilne is capable of a mistake."
But soon the officers returned, shaking their heads at the lack of any sign of the killer. Finn's attention was drawn to an envelope on the table nearby as he now stood tall once more. His name stared back at him, written in Max's unmistakable scrawl. Finn didn't want to open it, but he had to.
With reluctance, he opened it, his mind racing with possible implications.
"You took what was mine, now I will take what is yours."
The words seemed to leap off the page, searing themselves into Finn's brain. Vilne talked about people like they were belongings, things to trifle with. Finn could only assume that Vilne was referring to Nancy Miller, the woman he saved from Vilne's clutches back in the US. Finn had stopped him from killing that time, and it had seemingly consumed Vilne ever since.
Now, he was going to take it out on Finn's loved ones.
Finn crumpled the paper in his fist, fury and fear intertwining within him. Max had made this personal, and Finn would not let him succeed. He would protect those he cared about, no matter the cost.
"Is everything alright?" Amelia asked, her voice laced with worry as she eyed the balled-up letter.
"Max left us a message," Finn replied, anger simmering beneath his words. "He's targeting the people I care about."
"Then let's make sure he doesn't get the chance," Amelia said firmly, her resolve shining through. "We'll put constables on high alert and have them protect anyone you need."
Finn nodded, his thoughts consumed by the chilling words of Max's taunt. The game had changed, and the stakes were higher than ever, but there was no end in sight, and Vilne seemed to be playing from a marked deck.
Amelia's phone shattered the tense silence, its shrill ring echoing off the walls of the hotel room. She glanced at Finn before pulling the device from her pocket and answering the call.
"Inspector Winters," she said, her tone crisp and professional as she listened to the voice on the other end. Finn watched her expression shift from concern to surprise, her eyebrows knitting together.
"Chief?" she said, holding up a hand as if to physically halt the barrage of information coming through the line. "Are you saying there's been another..." Her eyes widened, and she cast a sidelong glance at Finn. "Yes, alright. We'll be there as soon as we can."
"Was that Rob?" Finn asked, his stomach clenching with a sense of foreboding as he registered Amelia's reaction to the call.
"Home office wants us on a murder case," she said. "And they think it might be connected to Max Vilne. If we can't find Vilne here and track him down..."
"Then we follow the breadcrumbs wherever they lead," Finn said.
CHAPTER TWO
Finn still felt his breathing wasn't quite right as he and Amelia stepped into the spacious office of Chief Constable Rob Collins, sunlight streaming through the large windows overlooking the Hertfordshire Constabulary HQ. The warm glow illuminated the room, casting shadows on the shelves filled with case files and awards.
Finn was determined to hide how ill he was feeling after being drugged. He knew Rob would force him to step down, otherwise.
"Rob," Finn said, offering a weak smile to his old friend. Amelia nodded her head, addressing him as "Chief" in her usual respectful tone.
Rob was an old college friend, the very reason Finn had come to the UK in the first place on vacation. Now, he'd been there in the UK for nearly a whole year, living in Rob's aunt's vacant cottage, and making a name for himself in the press as a detective of peerless excellence.
But Finn wondered whether Rob truly knew how much jeopardy he was now in by being part of Finn's closest circle.
"Have a seat," Rob gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. As they settled into the worn leather seats, Rob scrutinized Finn, concern etched on his face. "You look like hell, mate. Have you slept at all?"
"Sleep? I hear it's lovely," Finn's voice trailed off, his gaze lost in the depths of his coffee cup. "I'm fine. I just need to catch Max Vilne."
"Any sightings since this morning?" Amelia asked, the urgency in her voice unmistakable.
"None," Rob replied, shuffling through a stack of papers on his desk. "Max Vilne hasn't been seen since he escaped the hotel room. It appears he had tied a rope to the next building's roof in anticipation of a quick escape. Then, he cut the rope so our constables couldn't follow. By the time we had constables combing the area, he was long gone. Not even a sighting on CCTV, which makes me think he had scouted them out in advance. He's quite the slippery fellow... It's likely he's gone dark again."
Finn rubbed his temples, trying to suppress the headache that had been lurking at the edges of his consciousness. He could feel the weight of the past pressing down on him, the memories of his suspension and the end of his relationship with Demi threatening to consume him.
"Rob," Finn's voice cracked, betraying his exhaustion. "I'm worried about Demi. And Amelia and your safety, too. Max has a terrible grudge against me because I put him away."
