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Finn felt the morning breeze cool the sweat on his face as he and Amelia rounded the far side of the lake. The park spread out around them—early joggers, parents pushing strollers, and an older couple walking hand in hand. But he hardly noticed anyone else. His world, at that moment, was simply the rhythm of his breathing, the slap of his trainers on the path, and Amelia’s steady presence right beside him; athletic, red hair up in a ponytail, and a vision of beauty to Finn even when being competitive. Finn was pushing himself—not quite at full tilt, but enough that he felt his quads burning.

His lungs protested a bit when he tried to talk. "We… can stop… whenever you want," he managed, glancing sideways at Amelia. Her ponytail swished from side to side, and she looked remarkably unflustered despite the quick pace.

“Stop?” Amelia replied, arching an eyebrow. “If... If you’re tired, by all means, Finn. But... I’m fine.”

He puffed out a chuckle. “Oh, I’m more than fine. I’m only running at… maybe fifty percent right now.” The words came out between panted breaths.

Amelia let out a quiet laugh. “Fifty, is that all? I’m at twenty.”

Finn nearly stumbled, shooting her an incredulous look. “Twenty? If that were true, you’d have lapped me by now.”

She gave an effortless shrug, eyes dancing with good humor. “I’m merely sparing you the embarrassment. Don’t want to make the entire United States look bad.”

He burst into laughter. It came out loud enough that a nearby jogger glanced over with mild curiosity. Amelia smirked in satisfaction. They continued in a synchronized stride for a few moments more, the patter of their feet blending with ducks quacking at the lake’s edge.

When they reached a slight incline near a stand of willow trees, Finn noticed Amelia’s breath quicken at last. He shot her a teasing smile. “I’m surprised you’ve still got so much energy, considering how late you were up last night.”

Amelia’s eyes flicked away, just briefly. “I’m sorry,” she said, pushing a strand of hair back from her forehead. “It’s just… things have been complicated.” They crested the small slope and headed downhill, letting momentum carry them. “The task force trying to track Wendell Reed’s whereabouts had me on a call until midnight. But I think they are annoyed the Home Office has told them to consult me.”

Finn’s tone turned a shade more serious. “Hey, I understand. I just—” He paused to leap over a stray twig on the path. “I’d love to help you guys if I could. You know, handle the Wendell problem as a team. After all, we’re not exactly novices at finding dangerous criminals.”

Amelia breathed out hard, controlling her pace. “I asked about that. They said it’s already enough of a courtesy that I’m involved. They don’t want more outside help. ‘Too many cooks spoil the broth,’ was the phrase.” She rolled her eyes at the memory.

Finn shook his head. “They just don’t get it, do they? It’s personal to you. You’re the one who originally caught him. And he’s obviously hell-bent on revenge. Why else would he have been watching you outside the Monarch Club?

She swallowed, a shadow crossing her expression. “I’m sure he's toying with me. It’s a mess.”

They slowed a fraction, coming around another bend of the lake. A scattering of geese waddled nearby, eyeing the runners warily. Finn glanced up at the park's leafless trees—Spring still felt in its infancy, and the sky was a dull gray. Still, the loop around the lake was beautiful. This run had become their routine whenever they wanted to talk in relative peace without the bustle of city noise.

He decided to pivot the conversation. “Hey, Rob told me yesterday that his aunt has extended my lease on the cottage for another twelve months. That’s a load off my mind. I thought she might want it back by May.”

"Really?" Amelia gave him a warm smile. "That's good. Would you ever think of buying it from her if she's living abroad permanently? That might be simpler than indefinite rent."

Finn slowed his stride, considering the notion. "I'd love to. It's a nice place—it feels like home. But… finances aren't exactly robust right now, you know after I gave up half of the apartment to my ex. I wanted her set up properly, but it was a bit of a hit."

Amelia’s eyes flickered with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. “That was a noble thing to do, Finn. Possibly not the cleverest move financially, but definitely noble.”

A playful grin tugged at his lips. “Noble like a knight, then?”

She snorted. “I was thinking more stable boy. But sure, if a knight is what you need to hear.”

He let out a sarcastic gasp, but his laughter was soon cut short by the shrill ring of Amelia’s phone. They both slowed to a jog, then to a full stop, breathing heavily in the crisp morning air. Amelia pulled out her phone, pressing it to her ear. Finn couldn’t catch the words, just the low sounds of a voice on the other end. Her face grew focused, eyebrows knitting.

“I’ll be right over,” she said, her posture taut. When she ended the call, she looked at Finn apologetically. “Wendell Reed was spotted at a London jeweler’s shop yesterday, apparently. I need to check it out with the task force.”

Finn felt a surge of concern. “He was at a jeweler’s? That’s… unusual. Could he be trying to hock stolen goods, or—?”

She shook her head, already stepping into motion. “I don’t know. Probably. Either way, they want me in, so I have to go.” She hesitated, leaning up to kiss him quickly. He returned the kiss, resting his hand on her shoulder for a moment.

“Want me to walk you to your car?” he asked.

She looked over his shoulder toward the car park, which was visible just through a row of hedges. “I’m literally a minute away, Finn. You might need to keep running, or you’ll get stiff.” Her lips curved in an affectionate smile.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Be careful.”

She nodded, giving him a gentle press on his arm and a kiss on his cheek. “I promise.”

Finn watched as Amelia jogged off across the grass, then broke into a brisk walk. She left the path, heading up a short bank to the parking area. He caught sight of her swinging open the driver’s side door, glancing back once, then slipping behind the wheel. The engine rumbled to life, and soon she was gone, merging onto the nearby road. In the sudden stillness, Finn realized how empty the moment felt without her beside him.

He took a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs. A faint swirl of regret mingled with worry for Amelia’s safety; Wendell Reed was no small threat. He wished he could help her the way she had helped him when Max Vilne was on the loose.

Turning away from the distant hum of traffic, Finn strode to a nearby wooden bench beside the lake. Instead of continuing his run, he lowered himself onto the bench, resting his forearms on his thighs. The water’s surface rippled in slow circles, a pair of ducks drifting lazily. Beyond, tall reeds swayed, their golden stalks catching whatever feeble sunlight broke through the clouds.

He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about Amelia, thinking about Wendell, about the uncertainty of the future. He wanted to be more involved. He understood the task force’s caution, but it still left him feeling sidelined. As if fate wanted to remind him that life never stayed quiet for long, his phone vibrated. Glancing at the screen, he saw Chief Rob Collins’ name flash across.

He answered on the second ring. “Hey, Rob.”

“Finn!” Rob’s voice came through with a note of urgency. “Where are you?”

“At the park. Why, what’s up?”

“I’ve just been handed a new case by the Home Office. A murder in the Cotswolds. Victim named Victoria Palmer—a well-respected museum curator and artist. It happened early this morning. A particularly nasty one.”

Finn closed his eyes momentarily. This was exactly the sort of scenario he usually faced with Amelia at his side. “That’s terrible,” he said quietly. “I guess you want me on it?”

“Yeah,” Rob replied. “I know you and Amelia usually come as a pair, but I heard Amelia’s joined the Wendell Reed task force on a lead. She’s not going to be available for a while, from what I gather.”

“No,” Finn admitted, glancing again toward where Amelia’s car had disappeared. “It’s just me, I’m afraid. That all right?”

Rob gave a short laugh. “I mean, half the dream team’s better than nothing. You know how these things go.”

Finn snorted softly. “Half will have to do.”

"Of course," Rob said lightly. "In fact, she's probably three-quarters of the dream team. But I'll make do with the remaining quarter if it means we can solve this murder quickly." He paused, as if giving Finn a moment to protest.

“All right, that’s enough,” Finn teased. “Keep your granddad jokes to yourself. Send me the details, and I’ll head out. Might as well keep myself busy.”

A quiet moment passed, then Rob added more gently, “She’ll be fine, you know. Amelia, I mean.”

Finn swallowed a tinge of worry. “Yeah. She’s capable of handling anything, but Wendell is… personal to her. I just want to be sure.”

“You always do,” Rob said in a tone that suggested he understood all the unspoken weight behind Finn’s words. “Let me email you everything on Victoria Palmer’s murder, and we’ll coordinate from there. Take care, mate.”

“Thanks, Rob,” Finn said, ending the call.

He lingered on the bench, phone still in hand. A breeze stirred, rippling the surface of the lake. It was as if the water's gentle motion mirrored the unsettled feeling in his chest. He had grown so used to Amelia's presence whenever a new case came knocking—her sharp insight, her calm approach. Now, he'd be delving into a homicide alone. The last time he'd worked solo, he'd ended up in more trouble than he cared to recount.

He took one last moment to collect his thoughts, staring at the water as it lapped against the low bank. “Idle hands,” he murmured, recalling an old saying. Then, with a wry grin, he finished it, his voice subdued in the cool air. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”

He started up the path towards his car as the morning air seemed to fall more silent than it had any right to.