Page 19 of When You’re Forgotten (Finn Wright #10)

Finn inclined his head gravely. “Yes. I’m… I’m sorry. She’s gone.”

Jenna released a stifled sob, half-collapsing against Amelia’s shoulder. “Oh God… oh God. I knew it. I saw the door open and—” Her words dissolved into anguished crying.

Amelia bit her lip, sadness darkening her eyes. “We have to call the police. Inspector Thomas Lloyd should be notified. Now it really looks like something sinister is going on.”

Finn nodded, fists clenched at his sides in a mix of anger and dread.

“Agreed. I’ll phone him immediately.” He glanced at Jenna, whose sobs had subsided to ragged gasps.

Despite his sympathy for her distress, part of him felt a cold suspicion coiling: how had she come upon Catherine’s body so fast? Could this have been a set-up?

But he pushed those thoughts aside—nothing in Jenna’s hysterical state suggested cunning. “Amelia, can you stay with her for a minute?” he asked gently. “She’s traumatized.”

Amelia nodded, one arm around Jenna. “I will.” Then she flicked a questioning glance at Finn. “What did it look like… in there?”

Finn inhaled, choosing words carefully. “There’s a letter opener in Catherine’s hand, a curtain pulled down over her. She must have tried to defend herself. Or someone staged it like that. It’s not fresh, though—her body’s cold. She’s been dead for a while, presumably.”

Amelia closed her eyes momentarily, fighting back a wave of shock. “So maybe that scream we heard was Jenna’s discovering the body, not Catherine. Catherine could’ve been killed hours ago.”

Jenna whimpered, her face buried in Amelia’s blouse, and Amelia’s hold tightened in a gesture of comfort.

Finn stepped away, taking out his phone.

The corridor's overhead lights buzzed slightly, adding to the surreal, tension-laden atmosphere.

He scrolled to Inspector Thomas Lloyd's number.

Pressing the dial, he raised the phone to his ear.

The ring sounded painfully loud in the hush.

The seconds dragged. Finally, Lloyd's voice answered, somewhat breathless.

“Inspector Lloyd here,” he said, as though he’d been rushing.

Finn steadied his voice. “Detective Inspector, it’s Finn Wright at Brynmor Hall.”

Lloyd’s tone sharpened with concern. “Is everything all right?”

“We just found Catherine Penrose.” Finn paused, grappling with how best to phrase it. “She’s deceased, and it looks suspicious, like… like a possible homicide. We need more backup here. It’s not safe. This is the second Penrose sibling dead under strange circumstances, and I don’t want a third.”

A moment of static-laced silence passed before Lloyd responded in a grim voice, “I’ll gather some officers immediately. Stay at the scene, don’t let anyone tamper with evidence. I’m on my way.”

Finn ended the call, pocketing his phone, and rubbed a hand over his face.

His thoughts tangled: James’s possibly forced heart attack, an intruder rummaging for secrets, and now Catherine found dead with a letter opener in her cold hand.

A wave of frustration rose. He wanted to chase the masked intruder down, force out confessions.

But he had only the immediate facts: Catherine was gone, and the killer could still be among them.

He returned to where Amelia crouched with Jenna. The younger woman’s sobs had eased slightly, though tears continued to streak her cheeks. Her gaze flicked to Finn’s phone.

“Did you speak to the police?” Jenna asked, voice small.

Finn nodded. “Inspector Lloyd is coming with a team. We’ll keep the area sealed off.” He forced his posture straighter, adopting a professional calm that felt hollow. “Jenna, I know this is painful, but can you tell us what you saw or heard?”

She swallowed, trembling. “I was heading to find Catherine because we… we’d had an argument earlier this morning.

I wanted to make peace, you know?” Her lips quivered.

“But when I got here, the door was partly open, I… heard no noise, so I peeked in and— and that’s when I saw her.

Lying there under that curtain. I… I screamed and ran. ”

Amelia nodded, expression compassionate. “And you ended up in the corridor. That’s when we found you?”

Jenna closed her eyes. “I’ve never seen a dead body before. Not like that. Oh God, Catherine…” She pressed her knuckles to her mouth, stifling another sob. “We didn’t get along, but I never wanted this.”

Amelia patted her shoulder, exchanging a look with Finn. Finn offered a faint nod, sensing nothing contrived in Jenna’s distress. “Listen, you should probably go to your room or somewhere safe. We can help you get there, and the police will be here soon to talk with you.”

Jenna shook her head slowly. “I don’t want to be alone. Please—take me to Marianne or Richard. I need… I need them.”

Amelia stood, helping Jenna up. She murmured quietly, “Of course. We’ll see if Richard’s in the house or if Marianne can—”

Finn cut in softly. “Better not disturb Marianne with the children unless necessary. Let’s see if we can find Richard or Mrs Hughes to watch her. We have to keep the corridor to Catherine’s body unoccupied until Lloyd arrives.”

Amelia nodded in agreement. She slipped an arm around Jenna, guiding her gently in the opposite direction from that door.

Finn cast one last glance at the closed door down the corridor.

Catherine’s final resting place. He felt a wave of sorrow for the proud woman who had told them she suspected no direct threats—just typical Penrose drama. She was gone now, likely murdered.

As they walked, each step echoed in the oppressive hush. The hallway’s lamps flickered, casting dancing shadows along the tapestries. The gloom of dusk through the high windows made the interior lighting seem feebler, as though the house were descending into darkness both literal and metaphorical.

Halfway toward the main staircase, Amelia paused, lips pressed in a flat line. She pivoted to meet Finn’s gaze. “So that’s two Penroses dead within a short span. If we didn’t suspect foul play before, we do now.”

Finn exhaled, nodding grimly. “James died suspiciously, but plausible as a heart attack. Now Catherine. This can’t be coincidence.”

Jenna shuddered between them, tears slipping free again. She mumbled, “Who would kill Catherine? She… she was just trying to hold the family together. It was James who… who had all the money stress.”

Finn’s mind reeled with possibilities. Some unknown foe picking off family members? Or was it a twisted internal power struggle? The masked intruder? And where did that letter about Marianne wanting James gone fit in?

He led them onward, forcibly quelling the swirl in his thoughts. The hallway opened onto a broader landing near the stairwell. From here, he could hear faint voices below—servants, possibly. The entire estate had come alive with quiet panic after the scream.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Amelia turned to Finn, her expression grim but resolute. “We should wait for Lloyd. Try to keep the scene untouched. Then we’re going to have questions for everyone.”

Finn nodded curtly. “We’ll handle it by the book, but I also want to check on Marianne and the children soon. This is only going to heighten their fear.”

Jenna seemed to pull herself together slightly, wiping her nose with the rumpled handkerchief. “Please, can I stay with Marianne for now?” she asked in a shaky voice. “I need to see the children are okay.”

Amelia exchanged a look with Finn. “Sure,” fair enough said gently. “We’ll bring you there, but be prepared—Marianne has her children with her, so let’s be mindful.”

“Thank you,” Jenna whispered.

Finn’s mind lingered on the unsettling final expression Catherine wore, those wide eyes locked in an unspoken terror.

As they began descending the stairs, he resolved not to let fear overshadow the logic of their investigation.

This was no random haunting or petty burglary—it was purposeful, violent.

A killer prowled Brynmor Hall, and if two Penroses were gone, who might be next?

They reached the corridor below, near Marianne’s makeshift hideaway, noticing that the door was still shut. Through the heavy wood, he heard murmured voices—Marianne likely consoling Charlie and Bella. Gently, Finn knocked. “Marianne? It’s Finn and Amelia. And we’ve got Jenna here.”

A tense moment passed before the latch clicked. Hobbs’s face appeared, eyes darting over them. “All clear?” he asked in a whisper.

Finn tilted his head. “We found…” He swallowed. “We found Catherine. She’s… she’s dead, Hobbs.” The words felt bitter on his tongue.

Hobbs visibly paled, bowing his head in dismay. “Not another Penrose…” he muttered.

Inside, Marianne's gasp cut through the hush. Bella clutched her mother’s arm, clearly sensing the tension, while Charlie stared with fearful curiosity. Marianne stepped forward, her knuckles white on the door handle. “C-Catherine… are you sure?”

Amelia nodded gently. “Yes, I’m so sorry. We’ve called Inspector Lloyd again. Please, stay here, keep the children close. We can’t risk them wandering around.”

Jenna, tears brimming anew, ducked past Hobbs to wrap her arms around Marianne. “I… I’m so sorry.”

Marianne staggered under the weight of the news, her composure fracturing. “This can’t be happening,” she choked out. “Why Catherine? She never harmed anyone.”

Finn felt a surge of sympathy, but time pressed. “We’ll let you grieve, but please lock the door again. We’ll talk once the inspector arrives.”

Hobbs inclined his head, eyes downcast. With a gentle pull, he ushered Jenna inside, and Marianne gave Finn a hollow nod before shutting the door. The latch clicked again, enveloping the corridor in tense quiet.

Amelia turned to Finn, voice quivering with controlled anger. “That’s it. Two members of the Penrose family dead in under a week. We can’t treat this as an isolated incident any longer.”

Finn closed his eyes briefly, letting a wave of grim determination settle. “Agreed. We either have a killer systematically targeting them, or it’s some twisted series of accidents— which is unlikely. Catherine’s death looked like an outright murder.”

She pursed her lips. “We need to question everyone again—Donald, Mrs Hughes, Richard, Jenna, Marianne— figure out who might have a motive. And then there’s the masked intruder, if he’s not one of them. Or maybe James’s finances led to some outside threat. It’s a lot.”

He gave a short nod. “We’ll handle it. Let’s wait for Lloyd, secure the scene, and then piece it all together.

” He let out a shaky breath, eyes lingering on the window at the end of the hall, outside which dusk was fast deepening into night.

A chill wind gusted against the panes, rattling them.

“This estate is going to be crawling with local police soon.”

Amelia rubbed her own arms as though warding off a sudden chill. “In the meantime, we can check the corridor near the body, make sure no one else stumbles in. The less contamination, the better for forensics.”

Finn nodded. “Right. Let’s go back. And… be cautious. I can’t shake the feeling that the masked figure might still be around.”

They turned on their heels, moving along the corridor that led to Catherine’s final resting place.

The manor’s lamps glowed weakly now that night was properly closing in.

Every corner felt ominous, every tapestry looking as though it harbored secrets.

A hush blanketed the house, as if it too grieved the loss of another Penrose.

Time would only tell if more would join them in the family cemetery.