Page 30 of When You’re Forgotten (Finn Wright #10)

Finn swallowed, heart thudding. He had no weapon—only the urge to keep Amelia alive. She slumped in the chair, eyes half-lidded, breathing shallow. A faint chemical reek suggested they’d used chloroform or something similar on her already.

“What do you want from us?” Finn forced his voice steady, scanning each conspirator. They all stood in menacing tension, like a savage outline from an old painting.

Richard squared his shoulders. He was disheveled, sweat shining on his brow. “We want you both out of the picture,” he replied, voice quivering with anger. “We can’t let you ruin everything when we’re so close. We had a plan.”

Mrs. Hughes, trembling, finally found her tongue. “W-we never meant for it to end this way… we just… If you had left well enough alone…” She glanced guiltily at Amelia, then away.

The shattered remains of two earlier murders weighed on Finn’s mind—James and Catherine, plus the possibility they’d arranged Wilkie’s death.

Fury mixed with a terrible clarity. “So all of you conspired to kill the Penrose siblings,” he said quietly.

“James, Catherine—maybe more. And now you want Amelia and me gone to tie up loose ends?”

“We knew you were getting close to the answer,” Mrs Hughes said. “We set you up in the sitting room where we knew we could listen from the next room.”

Jenna’s face twisted. She clutched the syringe, knuckles going white.

“We had no choice. James was bleeding the estate dry and the banks were threatening to come in and seize his assets, including half the house. Richard actually didn’t want to keep the house, he only acted like he did, but he and Jenna did want his fair share of the money from the sale.

But that wouldn’t happen with James and Catherine alive.

Despite saying she felt Richard was hard done by, Catherine threatened the final sale behind Richard’s back to settle all James’s debts so the family could live more humble lives without financial ruin always over their heads.

That would have meant nothing for us, when the family had promised a good pay off when I retired.

None of them cared about us.” Her lip trembled, tears battling resentment.

“James and Catherine both had to go, otherwise we would have been left with nothing… And... Edwin and I are... in love. We deserve better! All those years we put into serving this family, and Edwin gets fired and I get left with nothing when I retire. We deserve a life together that isn’t one of servitude! ”

Edwin’s rifle steadied on Finn’s chest. “Time for talking is done. They’ll find your bodies in the morning, and with the estate in chaos, your partner died at the hands of the killer, and you in the crossfire.”

Finn’s pulse hammered. He needed to stall. Glancing sideways at Amelia’s unconscious form, he tried to keep his voice calm. “If you kill me, the police will suspect you. Inspector Thomas’s men are out on the estate. They’ll know something’s off.”

Edwin’s eyes narrowed, lips curling in a half-snarl. “You’re wrong. We’ll spin a story. The power cut out earlier. We can claim the killer was lurking in here, attacking Inspector Winters. Shots were fired in confusion. You got caught in the crossfire. The end.”

Finn looked around, searching for a wedge in their plan. “But you’d still need someone to blame as the killer. Who did it? Another staff member? This story of yours has more holes than a sieve.”

Edwin shifted the gun’s aim, gaze flicking among them. “You’re right. We’d need a scapegoat.” His eyes landed on Richard. “I suppose we can adapt.”

Richard’s eyes widened. “Wait—no!” he gasped.

The muzzle barked in a flash of fire. The shot was deafening in the enclosed space. Richard jerked backward, chest blossoming red. He hit the floor with a sickening thud. Jenna let out a shriek, her hands flying up as though to ward off the horror.

“God, no!” she cried.

Edwin pivoted and fired again, not giving Jenna time to run. She, too, collapsed in a heap, the syringe clattering from her limp hand. Blood pooled rapidly on the polished boards, her final breath escaping in a ragged exhalation.

“ They were the killers,” Edwin said with a grin. “If only I could have gotten there before they murdered Inspector Winters. Brave Finn struggled with the killers as he tried to save his partner, but I guess I’m just not as good a shot as I used to be...”

Mrs. Hughes stumbled forward, kneeling on the floor near the two corpses. Tears streaked her cheeks. “Edwin… how could you?” Her voice cracked with the betrayal of seeing him execute co-conspirators.

Edwin’s features hardened. He gave a bitter shrug, stepping sideways to keep the rifle trained on Finn.

“They were losing their nerve. We need everything neat if we want to collect the spoils. You and I will be fine. We’ll say Richard went insane and killed them, or something.

We can spin it. With Catherine and Richard dead, the estate goes to where we need it. ”

Mrs. Hughes bowed her head, shaking in silent sobs. “I never wanted this.”

Finn seized on the moment to push for answers. He raised a trembling finger at the two bodies, heart pounding. “Why kill them? They were your allies. Wasn’t the plan to share the inheritance from the estate once it sold?”

Edwin gripped the rifle, ignoring the question. He addressed Mrs. Hughes: “Help me tie him up. Let’s finish off the girl.”

Amelia moaned softly, stirring in the chair.

Finn’s protective instinct surged. He shifted to position himself between her and the rifle’s muzzle.

“Edwin,” he said in a low tone, “I get it. You were cast aside. James used you, then threw you away. Catherine championed you for a while, but apparently that wasn’t enough.

You were forced to live in the woods. But you expect to escape murder charges now? ”

Edwin's eyes burned. "I dedicated my life to the Penrose.

Because of Wilkie's death, James hated me.

All for telling Wilkie old folklore. Then James cut me off, refused me a livelihood.

Catherine tried to help me, but once she took up with that plan to sell the house, taking half of the money with her, it wasn't enough. We had to act."

“I do wonder if Wilkie was the first kill…” Finn said.

“When I was in your cabin, I noticed a lot of local plants being grown, cultivated. You said yourself you loved folklore, does that include knowledge of poisonous plants that might be undetectable in an autopsy, unless you’re specifically looking for it? ”

Mrs. Hughes sniffled. “You’re wrong, Finn. Edwin, he suspects we used poison for Wilkie. But Wilkie simply died. He was frightened by the old stories and he was a paranoid poor soul...”

Finn took a bold step forward. “Stop lying, Mrs. Hughes. Did you or Edwin kill Wilkie with poison that simulates a heart attack or fear-induced seizure? Was it put in his food? Edwin could cultivate it, you would have opportunity to put it in any served food. Have you been planning this for years, finishing off the family one by one? I do wonder if you even killed your husband that way so you could be with the man you love.”

Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly.

Finally, tears glinting, she stammered, "James reneged on the lump sum for me, yes.

I was old. I had no future. Meanwhile, he spent it on prostitutes…

that vile man." She spat the last words with surprising venom.

"So yes, we conspired because he spent all that money on his own pleasures while we starved in service.

But we never did anything to Wilkie or my husband! "

A flicker of guilt crossed Edwin’s face, as though old secrets weighed him down.

“Enough of the lies! Yes, Wilkie had to go. But I did that alone. I was furious he had told James about the stories I shared, knowing full well James wouldn’t approve.

That brought pressure on me. But Mr. Hughes’s passing…

that was a mercy. He was a depressed man who was in between me and the woman I loved…

I did that because it was necessary. Mrs Hughes didn’t have anything to do with it. ”

Mrs. Hughes pressed a hand to her mouth, sobbing harder. “Edwin, no...”

Finn felt sick to his core. He spotted the splatters of Richard’s and Jenna’s blood shining under the lamp. The entire house reeked of betrayal.

“Enough chatter,” Edwin snapped, lifting his rifle. “We have to finish. Finn, step away from the girl.”

Finn’s mind raced, scanning for a weapon. On the desk behind him lay a heavy paperweight—he recognized the same object he’d used earlier. But before he could reach for it, a sudden noise erupted from somewhere in the corridor—

A horrible, unearthly scream. It sounded like Marianne.

It came from another part of the house, echoing with inhuman volume. Everyone froze, eyes wide. Even Edwin’s finger twitched off the trigger. A hush followed, thick with a sense of dread.

Seizing that instant, Finn lunged for the paperweight.

He swung it in a wide arc, aiming squarely for Edwin’s temple.

Edwin tried to pivot, but the blow connected with a dull whack.

The gun fired wide of its mark, burying a bullet in the wall.

Finn threw himself forward, arms up to shield Amelia from stray fire, but no further shots followed.

Amelia moaned more strongly, blinking as she fought off the remnants of the drug. The loud shot must have jolted her nearly awake. “Fi…nn,” she slurred.

Mrs. Hughes, eyes wild, grabbed a candle holder from the floor and made a desperate swipe at Finn. He ducked her swing, pushing her back into the desk. She tumbled, sprawling on the ground. Meanwhile, Edwin, bleeding from a fresh wound on his scalp, raised his rifle once more.