Page 86 of Protect My Heart

“Richard Finden.”

Chapter 24

CJ set the cup of black coffee and a bottle of Tylenol down in front of Jim. “What do you think?”

Jim downed two pills before he answered. “Could be, but it’s about as likely as your mom pole dancing.”

Hell would freeze over before Joy Whittier would shake her money maker while twirling around a chrome pole.

CJ cringed. “That’s a visual I didn’t need.”

“Sorry.” Jim pulled up the video link from holding. “If it was a heart attack, then it’s a mighty big coincidence that the security video locked up at the exact moment that Officer Hogan left for his break.”

“You know how I feel about coincidences.”

“Me, too. So, if Finden didn’t die from nature causes, how did they get him?” The taste of the black brew didn’t even register as it passed his tongue.

“Either Hogan was in on it, or they had to know the guard’s break schedule.” CJ set his cup on his desk.

“An inside man?” Jim quirked a brow.

The two shared a look. They suspected a dirty cop a few months ago when Lorna’s ex was involved in a stolen antiques deal, but they hadn’t found any evidence that pointed to one cop. Time to start searching again.

“Peterson is in charge of this one. He’ll find out who was in the building at the time of the murder.” CJ rubbed his jaw. “I don’t think it’s the same person that has Liz. I’m thinking the inside guy is hired help.”

“Makes sense, whoever took Doc wants this journal and it’s tied to O’Roarke’s military days.” Jim’s heart pounded against his sternum.

Hang in there, Doc.

He opened the computer and scanned the file for possible leads. “We need to talk to Davis Sampson.”

“The prison guard?” CJ asked.

“Yeah, the three of them, Finden, O’Roarke, and Sampson started in basic together and were in the same unit that went to Afghanistan.” Jim skimmed his email as he talked. “Hold up. Ryan sent me the list of assignments the unit had while deployed. You’ll never guess what Patty was assigned to before the roadside bomb sent him home.”

“Does it have to do with an ambassador or his daughter?”

“Oh yeah.” Jim nodded, a wry smile on his face. “Patty, the warden, and Sampson were all assigned to protection duty a month before the bombing at the embassy, to the ambassador’s private residence to be exact.”

“I thought you didn’t like him for this.”

“I don’t, he doesn’t fit the profile, but if it’s not him, maybe we can rattle a suspect out of him. Two of his old military buddies are dead.”

“Where is Davis Sampson at this moment?” CJ asked.

“At home. He has the day shift at the prison.” Jim pushed back from his desk. “I have his address.”

At ten p.m., CJ and Jim stood on the front step of the Sampson’s Seventies rambler. A minute after Jim rang the doorbell, a woman in her fifties peeked through the side window. Another minute passed before she unlocked the door.

“Mrs. Sampson?”

“Yes.” She worried the neck of her robe, clasping it closed.

“I’m Detective Whittier and this is Detective Swenson.” They held out their identification for her to inspect. “We’re sorry to disturb you so late. May we come in?”

Color drained from her face, and she nodded. She opened the door wider as they stepped into the entry.

“Ma’am, we need to have a few words with your husband. Could you get him?” CJ asked.