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Finn felt a little uneasy, looking at the late night before him. The car's engine hummed a steady note as Finn navigated the winding roads that led to Frank Butter’s last known residence. The landscape was a blur of green, but Amelia Winters stared through the passenger window with her thoughts seemingly as tangled as the overgrown hedgerows they passed.
"You know, Frank Butter might be our killerandhave no connection to Vilne," Amelia's voice cut through the silence that had settled between them. "With Max Vilne out there, every second counts, and I can't shake the feeling we're running in the wrong direction."
Finn's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his jaw set in that determined way that told Amelia he saw something she didn't. "Max is cunning, but I think he might have slipped up this time. If Butter is one of his pawns, he could lead us right to him." His eyes never left the road as he drove, but his mind was clearly piecing together a puzzle only he could see.
"I want you to be right, Finn, but—" Amelia's words were abruptly interrupted by the shrill ring of Finn's phone. With a swift motion, he fished the device from his coat pocket and put it on speaker.
"Rob," Finn answered, keeping his tone level. “Shouldn't you be in your slippers by now?”
"Very good. I'm still at the constabulary. Got word you're off to see Frank Butter," Rob's voice came through, tinged with caution. "You do know who you're dealing with, right?"
"Should I be concerned?" Finn asked, stealing a glance at Amelia, who leaned in slightly to hear better.
"We've had dealings with him before during two other disputes. Frank's an ex-strongman contender," Rob informed, his tone suggesting this was no trivial detail. “In fact, he got close to the world title a few years ago.”
"Great," Finn replied, the corner of his mouth lifting into a half-smile. " Have no fear, I once competed in the world's most handsome man competition, remember?"
Amelia snorted, her eyes rolling with the affectionate exasperation she reserved for Finn's ego. "You'd unquestionably take the crown in the world's most deluded man competition, Finn."
The tension broke, and a smirk played on Finn's lips, but his eyes remained focused on the journey ahead, a glint of the old agent sparked within them. Amelia shook her head, her own smirk hidden by the fall of her hair as she looked away.
“I'm just saying,” Rob offered. “Be careful. Bring him back in one piece, would you, Winters?”
"No problem, Chief," Amelia said loudly. "Which piece would you like me to bring back?"
"Be careful, both of you. I'll send some backup, so do the sensible thing and wait before rushing in," Rob finished, and with a click, the call ended.
Finn eased the car around a sharp bend, the thicket giving way to an open field. He glanced at Amelia, catching the worry in her gaze. He understood it, felt it too. They were threading needles in the dark, hoping to catch on something solid.
"I don't think we need to worry about a strong man, we've faced much worse. We've got this," Finn said, more to convince himself than her.
“Rob is right,” Amelia said. “I don't want to have to scrape you off the floor.”
“The dance floor?” Finn asked.
“I'd make a bad pun about break dancing, but that seems to be your area of expertise,” Amelia said. She looked at her phone, the GPS showing how close they were.
“Just around here, and that's us,” she said, the lightheartedness receding away from her voice.
They pulled up outside a cottage, a quaint structure overshadowed by the mechanical graveyard that sprawled untamed around it. Engine blocks and rusted axles formed a metal moat, a barrier between them and whatever truths lay inside.
“Winters, do me a favor and wait here?”
“Why?” she asked.
“I have a feeling this Butter guy might not take kindly to being crowded,” he said. “On his case file, it said he gets rowdy when confronted by several cops at once. Let me try.”
“I don't think it's a good idea,” Amelia said.
Finn grinned. “Trust me...”
“Okay, but I'll keep an eye on the car," she explained. "The first sign of trouble, I'm at your back."
“Here we go." Finn stepped out of the car, his movements deliberate, each step measured as he
navigated the detritus of abandoned automotive dreams. “What a lovely collection.” Finn reached the door, his hand rapping against the wood in three solid thumps.
Finn turned and looked back at the car. He could see Amelia shifting in her seat and drumming her fingers on the dashboard. Finn gave her the OK sign with his hand.
