Page 26 of When You’re Broken (Finn Wright #11)

Finn turned the car onto a narrower lane, heading toward a major route that would lead them to central London.

The hum of the engine felt oddly comforting after the hush of Longwood’s gloom.

He glanced at Amelia, noticing the tightness in her expression.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he tried, though he hated how uncertain he sounded.

She inhaled slowly. “It’s just—Brendan. I never knew I had a brother until all this started. I never had the chance to care, to form memories. But now… the thought of losing him is devastating in a way I never expected. Does that make sense?”

He nodded, negotiating a turn onto an old side street.

“It does. You might not remember him from your childhood, but maybe your mind or heart does. That bond was there, even if you were too young to recall specifics. Learning the truth only reawakened it, like it was waiting for an excuse to matter.”

She let his words settle. “So, it’s normal to feel that intense panic at the idea I might lose him? Someone I haven’t seen since I was two?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Finn assured. “This is your flesh and blood. And for what it’s worth, I’m sure those early memories, though buried, still shaped you. The moment you found out about Brendan, it unlocked those memories. Soon they’ll flow like a river.”

She stared at him, eyes glistening with gratitude and anguish. “You always know how to phrase things. Thank you.”

They rounded another corner, finally hitting a better-lit main road. Traffic signals blinked green, though few cars roamed the late hour. Finn pressed the accelerator lightly, forging a path back toward their forced sanctuary.

After minutes of quiet travel, Finn turned down a side street that curved away from Longwood’s perimeter.

He recognized the route as the one leading back to the main expressway.

Trees lined one side, skeletal in winter’s retreat.

The faint glow of overhead lamps flickered across the car’s hood. Amelia slumped lower in her seat.

Suddenly, she stiffened. “Wait!” she hissed, pressing a hand to his arm. “Stop the car.”

Adrenaline spiked in Finn. He braked, scanning the road for hazards. “What’s wrong?”

She jerked her chin to the left. “Kill the engine, quickly.”

Heart pounding, Finn flicked off the ignition, letting the headlights die. The car settled into darkness. The faint whistle of wind breezed past. He turned to Amelia, voice a tense whisper. “Amelia, what is it?”

She pointed through the passenger window.

His gaze followed her fingertip to a squat building overshadowed by a massive oak tree.

Moonlight glinted on boards hammered across the windows.

A battered sign hung crookedly above the door, partially hidden by ivy.

POLICE was faintly visible in chipped paint.

“It looks like an old station,” Finn said, brow furrowing. Indeed, it had the shape of a small police station from decades ago—two stories tall, a squat annex to one side. The entire front door had boards nailed in a haphazard pattern, though a couple had peeled away, revealing darkness within.

She nodded, voice hushed with a fervent edge.

“Yes, an abandoned police station. Think about Wendell. He escaped from prison to punish those he hates, those with authority. He murdered the prison guard Shankland’s sister and tied her to the underside of a train.

It was Shankland who put him on a train when he was being transferred!

Kelvin Street, an ex-cop who wrote about his family and his mother in ways he hated.

He glued his hands to a typewriter before killing him.

And Rob… Next, he wants to break me, the cop that put him away, by killing my brother. ”

Finn’s eyes widened as realization dawned. “So you think… he might have chosen this place? An old precinct?”

“Yes,” she said, adrenaline lacing her tone. “It would fit his sadistic idea of punishing authority. Killing me or my brother in a place that symbolizes law enforcement. It’s precisely the dramatic irony he’d want.”

Finn’s gut tightened at the logic. “Then we should check it out. But are we certain he’s inside? Because we should maybe call it in.”

She swallowed. “No. It’s a hunch. I don’t want McNeill to have a field day, have me stripped of my place in the police over a hunch that might not play out.

Wendell… He’s cunning, but also enjoys mocking his victims. This is the kind of statement he’d want to make.

” She carefully opened her car door, motioning for Finn to do the same.

“Come on. Let’s at least see if there’s sign of life. ”

He complied, stepping out into the chilly air.

The road was empty behind them; no passing headlights, no prying eyes.

They inched closer to the old station, the boards across the windows creaking in the mild wind.

The structure seemed mostly intact, unlike the battered buildings in Longwood.

A half-rusted chain lay limp across the front door handle, but some nails had come loose from the plywood, leaving a gap.

Amelia crouched near a side window, which had a large board leaning askew. She pressed a gloved hand against it and felt it shift. She looked back at Finn, excitement and fear warring in her eyes. “This is loose. If we slip inside quietly—”

From beyond the boards, a faint scrape echoed, like someone shifting a foot or dragging something across the floor. It was fleeting, but enough to make the hairs on Finn’s neck stand up.

Amelia’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s him. I know it. Or someone. We have to check.”

Finn’s heart thundered, but he nodded, speaking in hushed tones.

“Let’s do it carefully. It could just be a squatter.

” He pulled his flashlight from his coat pocket, flicked it on, and aimed it at the gap.

The beam lit a swirl of dust motes. Amelia slid the board aside with quiet determination. The old nails groaned, but gave way.

She exhaled, steeling herself. “Wendell might have my brother in there. I’m not waiting any longer.”

With that, she hoisted herself through the gap, boots scraping the interior floor. Finn braced the board so it wouldn’t slam shut, then followed, adrenaline surging. Darkness enveloped them, the air stale and claustrophobic.

The moment his feet touched the floor inside, he heard Amelia’s quickening breath. She pivoted, flashlight raised, scanning a corridor that presumably led deeper into the station. “This place is a labyrinth,” she whispered.

Finn nodded, pulse hammering. He closed the board behind them, sealing out the cold night wind. No turning back now. They stood in the gloom, only their flashlight beams to guide them through corridors that once served law enforcement but now served only shadows.

And with that, they pressed on, determined to face whatever Wendell had waiting in the darkness.