Page 23 of When You’re Forgotten (Finn Wright #10)

Finn sat in the Brynmor Hall sitting room, a stack of case files spread across the low coffee table in front of him.

The large windows let in a cool, gray morning light that revealed the estate’s grounds drenched from a recent drizzle.

Amelia sat opposite him, perched on the edge of an armchair, her own batch of paperwork balanced on her knees.

Both looked weary, dark smudges under their eyes from another restless night.

Yet the tension in the air compelled them to keep working, sifting every clue to solve the mysteries plaguing the Penrose family.

He glanced up from a document about James Penrose’s finances, exhaling quietly. “Judd Aspen,” he mused. “You believe his story about Marianne? That she was threatening James for more money, maybe even wanting him gone?”

Amelia closed a file, setting it aside. “I’m not sure,” she replied softly.

“Going by your conversation with him, he obviously has a strong opinion of her, calling her a ‘gold digger.’ It wouldn’t be the first time there was a bit of bad feeling between the best friend and the partner.

And from what I’ve seen of Marianne, she’s grieving, anxious—like any widow in this situation. ”

Finn nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

The sitting room felt warm enough from the small fire crackling in the hearth, but the atmosphere was thick with the weight of their conversation.

“Judd claims he found that letter where Marianne wrote she wished something would happen to James. That’s direct enough to be a red flag. ”

“True,” Amelia allowed. “But she clearly hadn’t delivered it yet to whoever ‘B’ was, and maybe she never would.

Perhaps she was just venting. People say things in anger or frustration that they never intend literally.

Still, we can’t dismiss it. Judd insists Marianne wanted him gone— that’s motive if we put it plainly. ”

Finn tapped a pen against the table, mind swirling with the conflicting images: Marianne’s tear-streaked face, her genuine worry for the children, the letter Judd brandished implicating her. “She hasn’t struck me as the type who’d orchestrate two murders,” he said, voice hushed.

“And yet, we know next to nothing about her background,” Amelia pointed out. “She used to be a nurse, but we don’t have details on how she and James met, or her financial situation. People can hide a lot behind a polished exterior.”

Finn frowned, recalling the evening prior when they found Catherine's lifeless body.

The grief and chaos that followed still haunted every corner of the house.

Marianne had looked genuinely shaken, yet…

so had most others. "I guess we need more than just impressions," he said.

"We need proof or a reason to confirm or refute Judd's accusation. "

Amelia nodded. “Agreed.” She started to say something further, but Finn’s phone rang. “Is it Rob? Probably got news from London.”

Finn picked up his phone, and in unison they answered. He put his device on speaker for Amelia to hear. “Rob,” he greeted, leaning forward. “Are we in for more complications?”

Rob’s voice came through with surprising clarity, though a hint of background noise suggested he might be in a busy station hallway. “Complications? You have no idea. If Amelia is with you and you two are alone, mind if we go loudspeaker? I’d rather talk to both of you.”

Finn’s eyebrows rose. He turned the volume up. “You’re on. Amelia’s here.”

“Hey, Rob,” Amelia chimed in, curiosity lacing her tone.

“Good,” Rob said. “Well, I’ll cut to the chase. Have you two caught the news broadcasts these last twenty-four hours? Because James Penrose’s death is front and center.”

Amelia exchanged a glance with Finn, tension crackling in the quiet sitting room. The only sound beyond Rob’s voice was the hiss of the low-burning fire. “We’ve not had time for TV,” she admitted. “We’re up to our ears in the local tragedies.”

Rob gave a short, humorless laugh. “I know you’re still dealing with James and Catherine Penrose’s untimely deaths, and I hate to complicate things…

Well, apparently someone caught wind of the Home Office involvement and snagged the story—there’s speculation swirling about James’s suspicious death and now Catherine’s.

They named you both on camera, said ‘Famed Home Office consultant detective team, Finn Wright and Inspector Amelia Winters, are investigating to see if it’s murder. ’”

Finn scrubbed a hand across his face. “Not great. The last thing we need is the murderer or potential suspects seeing a sensational angle on the news.”

“That’s not why I’m calling,” Rob said, tone dropping.

“Wendell Reed must’ve seen it, too. He sent me an envelope this morning, addressed to me personally at HQ.

Inside was a photo of Brynmor Hall, with these crude drawings.

He scribbled in bodies hanging from the windows by their necks…

it’s vile. It’s obviously a threat, a message that he knows where Amelia is, and that you’re both in danger. ”

A cold wave prickled over Amelia’s arms. She leaned in, voice lowered. “Wendell? Are you certain he did it?”

Rob’s sigh transmitted through the line. “The envelope has his handwriting on it. Listen, if he’s got a personal vendetta, and now he’s seeing you at Brynmor Hall, it means he’s aware of your location. Could be planning to come after you, especially you, Amelia.”

A hush fell. Finn felt his pulse tick up, spiking adrenaline at the mere mention of Wendell returning to their orbit.

“So he’s not content with scaring Amelia in London, now he’s pointing at Wales,” he murmured.

“We thought bringing you here would take you away from the danger, but this definitely blows that.”

Amelia’s mouth set in a grim line. “He’s trying to separate me from the case, isn’t he? He’s threatening me so I’ll leave Brynmor Hall, leave Finn alone to handle it. He’s… he’s intimidated by Finn’s track record.”

Rob cleared his throat. “It’s possible. Specifically, his track record with Max Vilne. Wendell Reed knows how that ended. So yeah, maybe he’s aiming to rattle you, get you out of the picture.”

Finn felt a flicker of fierce protectiveness surge.

He recalled how Amelia had nearly died chasing Wendell’s phantom once before.

“Amelia,” he said softly, “Rob might be right that it’s too dangerous for you.

Wendell’s proven he can be relentless. And if the murderer inside Brynmor Hall is also active— that’s a double hazard. ”

She bristled, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not leaving. We’re in the midst of a murder investigation. Catherine’s been killed, James possibly murdered. I can’t just pack up because Wendell’s sending pictures.”

“Don’t be reckless,” Finn urged, swallowing a pang of frustration. “It’s not just about finishing the case. It’s about your life.”

Amelia let out a tense breath. “My life matters, obviously, but so do the Penroses. If Wendell is trying to scare me away, that means he’s counting on me to panic. I won’t give him that.”

A moment of awkward silence ensued. On the phone line, Rob cleared his throat again.

“I get where you’re coming from, Amelia, but from a purely tactical standpoint…

it might be wise to remove yourself from a location Wendell can identify.

We can’t risk him showing up, guns blazing, while we’ve got a vulnerable family already being picked off. ”

“I’m not leaving,” Amelia repeated, voice firm. “I appreciate the concern, but if Wendell’s truly on the warpath, he could find me anywhere. At least here, I have Finn and the local police inspector’s constables. I’m not going into hiding.”

Finn felt caught between worry for her safety and respect for her resolve.

He exchanged a look with Amelia, reading the determination in her eyes.

“We can’t make Amelia do anything,” he said quietly, addressing Rob.

“But we can up the security on the estate. That might help. The local police can patrol more heavily, set up a tighter perimeter.”

Rob exhaled. “Right. I’ll liaise with them, request additional units from Inspector Thomas Lloyd’s station. But if something else happens, or if Wendell escalates, promise me you’ll reconsider, Amelia.”

Amelia nodded once, even though Rob couldn’t see. “All right. If there’s a direct threat, I’ll think about it. But for now, we press on.”

The tension in the call was palpable, but Rob’s voice softened a fraction. “Okay, be safe, both of you. Wendell’s not a subtle person—he might want to sabotage your presence or push you to slip up. Don’t give him that opening.”

“Understood,” Finn said. “Anything else from London?”

“No real updates beyond that,” Rob replied. “The Home Office is still cautious about labeling James’s death homicide. With Catherine’s death, though, they might shift stance. Let me know if you need any resources from my end.”

Amelia forced a small laugh. “We need resources for everything, but we’ll be fine. Thanks, Rob.”

“Good luck,” Rob said, and the call clicked off with an air of lingering concern.

Finn dropped his phone onto the table’s surface, letting out a tight breath. “Damn Wendell. He never misses a chance to rattle us, especially you.” He shot Amelia a worried glance. “I’ll keep an eye out, day and night. We’ll coordinate with local police for extra patrols.”

Amelia exhaled, leaning back in the armchair. “I hate that he still has this power to unnerve me, but I won’t let him succeed. Meanwhile, we can’t forget the suspicious deaths under this roof.”

Finn nodded, eyes scanning the case files splayed across the table.

They’d drawn genealogies of the Penrose family, tallies of who inherited what, old records of James’s business.

“Right, back to that. Where were we? Judd Aspen told me that Marianne demanded more money from James to keep up her lifestyle. We suspect that was one reason he believed she orchestrated his death.”

Amelia wrinkled her nose. “It doesn’t quite fit the Marianne I’ve seen— worried about finances, yes, but also genuinely caring about her children. She doesn’t come off as a shallow trophy wife who’d murder for a bigger bank account.”

“Yet Judd insists otherwise,” Finn pressed, rifling through the typed notes from his interview with Judd. “He says she was deeply unhappy with James’s tightening wallet, threatened to leave him if he didn’t keep funding her tastes.”

Amelia shrugged. “People can be complicated. Maybe Marianne vented frustrations to Judd or others. That doesn’t automatically mean she plotted murder. But we do have that letter Marianne supposedly wrote, wishing something would happen to James so she could be free. It’s fairly damning if genuine.”

Finn drummed his fingers on the coffee table, considering the swirl of conflicting narratives. “It’s possible she was venting. Or maybe she was testing a hypothetical. We can’t know until we dig deeper.”

Amelia tapped a pen on her notepad. “We need more data, specifically about finances. If James’s life insurance and Catherine’s inheritance are factors, we might see who stands to gain.

We also don’t know Marianne’s personal finances—did she have large debts?

Was she forging any business deals without her husband? So many unknowns.”

Finn gave a resolute nod. “In that case, let’s phone Rob or local authorities, see if we can push for a warrant to examine everyone’s finances.

We want to see bank statements, debts, those sorts of details for Marianne, Richard, Jenna, and even Mrs Hughes if necessary.

Maybe something will leap out—like a huge debt or suspicious transfer. ”

Amelia grimaced at the thought of more bureaucracy, but she recognized the necessity. “You’re right. If we can get those records quickly, it might break this case wide open.”

Finn caught her eye, remembering the phone conversation not five minutes prior. “Want to call Rob back for that? Or should we go through Inspector Lloyd?”

A flicker of uncertainty crossed her expression, but she squared her shoulders. “I’ll call Rob first. He’s more likely to expedite the request with the Home Office. Lloyd might be supportive, but we’d still need higher clearance. Let’s go for the direct route.”

She reached for her phone, sighing at the prospect of another tense conversation. “Though I hope he doesn’t try again to talk me into leaving Brynmor. I’m definitely not in the mood for that fight.”

Finn nodded, picking up a stray file. “I guess we’d better get used to it. Wendell’s threat changes the game. Everyone who cares about you is going to push for your safety.”

Amelia half-laughed, a bitter note there. “I’ll manage just fine.” She flipped open the phone, preparing to dial. “We can handle both: track a murderer in Brynmor Hall, and keep Wendell at bay with the local cops.” She paused, thumb hovering over the screen. “We have to.”

Finn leaned back, letting the muted crackle of the sitting room's fireplace fill the silence.

He studied Amelia's determined posture, reminded again how strong she was—even if fear lurked beneath her calm veneer.

"I'm with you," he said quietly. But in his bones, he felt that something had shifted and that the fear of losing Amelia was only going to grow.