Page 85 of Protect My Heart

“There has to be someone.” His phone beeped. He snatched it up. “Tell me she’s at her mom’s?”

“You been drinking?”

“Don’t mess with me. Tell me where she is.” His jaw popped and he ratcheted his neck to the side, eliciting a loud crack. At his partner’s silence, he answered. “I’ve had a couple.”

“I’ll be there to pick you up in ten minutes. And Jim, bring the file.”

CJ didn’t need to say which case file. Jim sank back into the chair and closed his eyes.

Jim’s stomach clenched. He wanted to rant and yell, but the words barely passed his lips. “Tell me.”

CJ let out an audible breath. “Her car is in front of the neighbor’s house. The driver’s window was smashed, but she wasn’t inside.”

All feeling fled from his limbs. Jim couldn’t lose her. Not now, not ever.

“I called it in. I’m on my way.”

“I’ll be ready.” Jim scooped up the papers on the table. “And CJ, be here in five.”

Eight thirty, work lights lit up her car. The numb feeling that settled over him had nothing to do with the below-freezing temperatures.

Officer Larson came towards them. “From the glass and blood at the scene, it looks like they broke the window, wacked her in the head, and pulled her from the car.

Jim’s heart seized. “Can they tell if she was alive?”

“A head wound bleeds a lot, but all indications from the scrapes on the door and steering wheel, she fought. They can’t see if it was before she was taken or during.” Larson closed her notebook and stepped closer to Jim. “You can’t do anything here. You and CJ are the best. Go find her.”

He watched her walk away as her words sunk in. He motioned for his partner and climbed in the car. When CJ slid in behind the steering wheel, Jim spoke. “Let’s question Finden. I don’t care if he wants his lawyer. The asshole knows who has her.”

On the drive, Jim called the station and had them hold an interrogation room. Next, he interrupted the lawyer’s nightly bourbon and told him to be at the station in five minutes or they were questioning his client without him.

The station buzzed with tension and activity when they arrived. “What’s going on?” CJ snagged the arm of an officer as he rushed by. “A guy in holding died.”

He rushed off when CJ dropped his arm.

Jim and CJ shared a look. Jim had a bad feeling about this. They double-timed it to holding. They elbowed their way through the sea of uniforms.

Jim picked the one in charge and zeroed in. “Sergeant Johnson, what happened?”

“Swenson, Whittier.” He nodded in greeting, his dark face stern. “The suspect you brought in a few days ago was found dead at about nineteen hundred hours.”

“How the hell did that happen?” The words spewed from Jim’s mouth. Anger bubbled and boiled in his gut.

“Officer Hogan.” The Sergeant signaled the night security officer. “Mind telling these men what happened.”

Sweat poured down Hogan’s sallow face. To say he was green was an understatement—Baby Yoda had better color. Jim and CJ stepped back for fear he would vomit. “All was quiet. The suspect was asleep. I went out to have a smoke. When I came back, the monitors were frozen.”

The guy wiped his mouth with his sleeve and took a swig of the water bottle he was holding.

Jim’s fist balled, biting back the urge to strangle the man if he didn’t hurry up and finish his story.

“At first I didn’t notice the detainee was dead. He was flat on the floor. But then I saw the blood.” He gulped. “I ran in to check and called 911 and started CPR as soon as I realized he wasn’t breathing.”

“Blood?” CJ asked.

“Yeah, he had a cut on his head.” Hogan touched his temple. “Here. I figured he must have had a heart attack or something, fall, and hit the edge of the cot.”

Jim gritted his teeth. He had to verify it. “Who was the victim?”