“Of course. That’s Frank Samson. He’s one of my father’s Army buddies. He happens to be from Indianapolis, too. They play poker together sometimes. He can’t possibly have anything to do with my father’s murder.”
Tank nods. “You know that saying, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’?”
The blood drains from my face. This can’t be happening. I’ve met Frank on many occasions over the years. I would even say that he looked up to my father in the same way Mace did.
Ghost leans in, setting his elbows on his knees as if it might help if he makes himself smaller. “Your father didn’t trust him. He was on his list of possible enemies.”
I can’t breathe. My legs are wobbling.
Mace grabs my waist, lifts me, and sets me on one knee, keeping an arm around me.
“Why?” I ask, absently.
Tank looks at Mace. “We hired a PI in Indianapolis to work this case. His name is Anthony Bryant.”
Mace nods. “I know him.”
Tank continues, “He broke into Samson’s house to do some snooping. I’m pretty sure what he found shocked even him, and he’s a seasoned investigator. Said he thought he’d seen it all, but he was wrong.”
Mace’s arms tighten around me. “Go ahead.”
Ghost clicks on another file, which opens to reveal a small room that looks like a scene out of a crime drama series. It’s covered with boards, littered with photos and sticky notes.
Ghost shifts his attention to us. “In addition to the sheer insanity that was the inside of his house, our investigator found journals. Apparently, he’s been playing the long game with James Burke. I hate to say this, but he put on an amazing show for two years, all while plotting an elaborate takedown.”
“Why?” My voice squeaks. I can’t wrap my head around this.
Tank leans back and threads his fingers behind his head. “He was married. His wife divorced him when he got home from deployment. He has a history of violence and abuse. He blamed your father.”
I flinch. “What? Why?”
Tank inhales deeply. “I guess he thought—as his commanding officer—your father was to blame for him being engaged in battles that left him with emotional damage that then destroyed his marriage. He ended his second tour near the same time your father retired. Two years ago.”
I’m stunned. “And he pretended to be my father’s friend for the past two years, all while plotting his murder? Why not just kill him a long time ago?”
Tank glances at Mace and back to me. “This is where things get ugly.”
I point at his computer. “You’ve got more. Show me.” I’m shaking now. I don’t know what I’m going to see, but I know I’m not going to like it.
Mace holds me with one hand and reaches out with the other to grab Ghost’s forearm. “Hang on. Prepare us before you show us.”
“How much worse can it get?” I ask, confused. “I’m shocked. I thought Frank was my father’s friend. I’m struggling to believe he could have murdered him. I see that you have an abundance of evidence, but I’m having trouble wrapping my head around it. He broke into my home and laced my father’s water with a deadly drug. It was heinous and despicable.” I twist to look at Mace directly. “I hope you hang him by his fucking toes and cut a hole in the top of his head so that all his blood drains out slowly.”
Mace’s eyes widen. “Sweetheart, how about if you leave that side of things to me?”
“It’s not a bad idea, though,” Tank interjects, chuckling.
“I agree,” Ghost adds.
Mace groans as he narrows his gaze. “There’s more.”
Tank’s face scrunches. “This wasn’t the first time Samson broke into the house. He’s been doing it for a while. Snooping around. When we went through the cameras Burke had in his home, we didn’t realize there were more. These weren’t in his own security system. Samson put his own surveillance cameras in the house. He knew where Burke’s were located and avoided his system almost entirely.”
“More cameras?” I ask.
Mace squeezes me too tightly.
Tank glances at me. “The detective discovered the incoming feeds on a monitor in Samson’s house. He has cameras all over, including in your room and bathroom.”
