Page 25 of When You’re Broken (Finn Wright #11)

Finn maneuvered the car cautiously down the deserted road leading into Longwood, the headlights slicing through the night’s dense gloom.

Overhead, the sky was starless, a heavy shroud that pressed down on the abandoned district.

As they moved closer, sparse streetlamps stood like silent sentinels, their bulbs long dead or flickering, unable to offer any real guidance.

Amelia sat in the passenger seat, posture stiff, face set in unwavering determination.

It was well past midnight, the hush of the city around them magnified by the emptiness of the place. No neon signs, no hum of traffic, just a sense of lost time draped over broken buildings and creeping undergrowth.

They reached a wide thoroughfare with cracked tarmac underfoot, weeds sprouting at the edges.

Finn slowed, scanning for any sign that people still ventured into Longwood.

He saw only a few scattered remains of street markings, faded crosswalk lines leading nowhere.

The car’s engine, a steady low growl, sounded disproportionately loud in the otherwise silent night.

“Hard to believe this was once bustling,” Finn remarked softly. “A big regeneration project that never got off the ground.”

Amelia nodded, glancing out her window. “I read that after the initial push in the seventies, the council gave up by the mid-eighties. Some developers tried again in the nineties, but everything fell into disrepair eventually.” She gestured at a row of skeletal buildings, half consumed by dark silhouettes of climbing plants.

“Nature always reclaims what we abandon.”

Finn followed her gaze. The so-called “Longwood” was ironically named, a cluster of half-dozen structures that had once been part of an ambitious plan: a shopping mall, a tower block of flats, a row of smaller commercial buildings.

Now they stood gutted and forlorn, windows shattered or boarded up, trees and vines tangling around their entrances.

The faint moonlight revealed pockets of collapsed roofs and cracked facades.

Pulling the car to a stop, he switched off the headlights, letting the darkness settle around them like a heavy blanket. He cut the engine. A hush fell, broken only by the rustle of wind through unkempt foliage. Amelia exhaled, unbuckling her seat belt.

Finn peered through the windshield. “You ready?” he asked quietly.

Amelia’s lips pressed together. “Yeah.”

They stepped out. The air struck him as colder than in the city center, carrying a tang of damp earth and rotting wood.

A short distance ahead, a battered sign read Longwood Shopping Centre in peeling letters, half obscured by ivy.

Police tape flapped near the entrance—remnants, presumably, from the forensics team that had come earlier.

A fresh wave of frustration laced Finn's thoughts.

If the task force had already searched thoroughly, there might be nothing left. Still, they had to see for themselves.

Amelia walked up to the sagging fence. The tape, luminous in reflective stripes, hung from bent poles hammered into the ground.

She traced a finger over the bright "Police—Do Not Cross" label. “Looks like they sealed it off after discovering that basement. Or the body they found. They must’ve examined every inch inside.”

Finn came to stand beside her, hands in his jacket pockets. “We could go in anyway, but… the forensics team was thorough. If Wendell’s too cunning to stay behind, we won’t find new clues.”

Amelia closed her eyes for a moment, as if wrestling with that logic. “Then we skip the shopping center,” she decided. “No sense re-searching what’s already been combed over. Let’s check the rest of these buildings. Maybe Wendell was using a different spot.”

They followed the overgrown path leading away from the mall, the cracked pavement littered with leaves and broken glass.

Weeds grew in thick clumps where sidewalks had once guided shoppers.

Amelia’s flashlight cut a swath in the darkness, its beam revealing signs of structural decay: collapsed door-frames, half-melted signage, rows of battered and rusting shelves in what might have been a warehouse yard.

Everything was desolate and vaguely apocalyptic.

They came to a pair of structures that had partially collapsed.

From the outline, one seemed to have been a community center, the other some kind of office block.

Both had roofs caved inward, revealing twisted steel beams and jagged edges of concrete.

Finn tested the perimeter of the first building, stepping gingerly over fallen debris.

“Stay back,” he called to Amelia when he vanished behind a corner.

His flashlight flickered from behind the battered remains of a wall.

The place smelled like stale mildew and old ashes, as though someone had tried to burn out the interior.

Moments later, he reemerged, brushing dust off his sleeves.

“No chance of anyone hiding in there. It’s basically rubble. Even the floors are crumbling.”

Amelia nodded, shining her flashlight at the second collapsed structure.

The heavy tangles of ivy across its facade made it look like a chunk of forest had swallowed half the building.

She sighed. “We’ll mark that off, too. That leaves the tower block on the next block over.

Might still have floors that haven’t caved in. ”

Finn cast a glance in that direction. The silhouette of a multi-story building loomed against the sky, reminiscent of a grim monument.

Lightless windows stared like empty sockets.

The wind carried a gentle rattle of some leftover sign scraping metal upon metal.

“Worth checking,” he agreed, though something about the gloom made his stomach tighten.

They navigated a cracked footpath, stepping over roots that had breached the pavement.

The tower’s entrance was a yawning archway, no door to speak of, just a pitch-black corridor leading into the structure.

Broken graffiti scrawled across the walls.

Amelia’s flashlight beam revealed half-toppled mailboxes in a foyer, the stench of rot and old trash thick in the still air. She wrinkled her nose.

“Home sweet home for squatters, maybe,” Finn murmured, glancing around.

They pressed in further. Finn saw a flight of concrete stairs, each step coated in a film of dirt. He tested one with his foot. It seemed stable, so he motioned for Amelia to follow. “Let’s see if anything’s up there,” he said quietly.

One floor up, they found a corridor that ended abruptly in a collapse of ceiling and steel rods.

Broken lumps of plaster and twisted rebar blocked passage further.

Amelia tried shining her light beyond the wreckage, but it revealed only darkness and rubble.

No hope of climbing through without risking a landslide of debris.

“This place is a tomb,” Amelia said bitterly, pressing a hand to the damp wall. “And empty, from the looks of it.”

Finn studied the blocked hallway, frustration gnawing at him. “Seems like no one’s holed up here. If Wendell ever used it, he’s long gone. I guess the forensics folks might have scouted it, too.”

She exhaled, turning to retrace their steps. “Nothing here. Let’s head down. No point spending the night rummaging in hazardous rubble.”

They descended, each footstep echoing louder than it should in the vacant tower.

The sense of quiet abandonment was overwhelming.

Back outside, the sky had darkened further, the moon a faint sliver behind clouds.

“This entire district feels dead,” Finn said, scanning the silhouette of the tower. “Place gives me the creeps.”

Amelia stood there a moment, shoulders sagging. “My instincts say Wendell’s close as he wouldn’t have risked moving Brendan far when we’re out looking for him, but I don’t see any indication he’s here. If he was here, he’s gone.”

Finn hesitated, unsure how to comfort her. “Let’s go,” he said gently. “We can’t do more now. Maybe the new leads from Clint’s team will pick something else up.”

She nodded, and they trudged back to the car.

The crunch of gravel underfoot accompanied them in the still night.

When Finn unlocked the doors, Amelia slid into the passenger seat, leaning her head back with a weary sigh.

He started the engine, the car’s headlights momentarily illuminating a cluster of vines creeping across a cracked wall.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find anything,” he said, voice quiet, reversing out of the deserted side road.

Her gaze lingered out the window. “It’s not your fault, Finn. We tried.” Then, turning to him, voice trembling, “I just can’t let go of the idea that he’s somewhere near. I feel it. Maybe it was that curse ‘hope’ again.”

Finn reached for her hand, giving it a brief squeeze before turning onto a broader road.

They drove in silence for a time, the hush of the car’s interior thick with unspoken fears.

Street by street, the run-down outlines of Longwood gave way to slightly more intact roads, though still overshadowed by closed shops and half-boarded structures.

Eventually, the area turned into an older suburban stretch, with sporadic lampposts.

Finn’s headlights caught glimpses of empty bus stops and battered signposts.

Amelia stared at the fleeting scenery. “Maybe I can’t think straight for any of this,” she admitted, voice subdued.

“We should go back to the hotel. A plan might form, or we might get new intel. We can’t do anything wandering aimlessly.

” Her words carried reluctant acceptance, but it sounded more to Finn like she was trying to persuade herself of something.