Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

A s they walked out of Marnie’s office, Sam turned to Jo, his brow furrowed. “What do you think? Was she telling the truth?”

Jo shrugged, her expression skeptical. “Hard to say. She’s a politician, so lying comes with the territory.” She glanced back at the closed door. “But something about her story doesn’t sit right with me.”

Sam nodded, his thoughts racing. “Yeah, I got that feeling too. Why would Alex risk everything to snoop through her calendar? And why was she so reluctant to share that contact list?”

Jo sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know, but I have a hunch it’s more than just protecting her donors’ privacy.”

They stepped out into the parking lot, the cool evening air a welcome respite from the tension inside.

“And is it a coincidence that Amelia took the day off?”

Jo glanced back at the building. “Good question.”

Jo opened the car door for Lucy, who hopped in eagerly.

“I bet you know, don’t you?” Jo said, scratching the dog behind the ears.

Lucy chuffed, her tail wagging.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “If only she could talk, right?” He pulled out his phone, his eyes scanning the screen. “Hey, Mick just texted. He’s got some news on the Feldman case.”

Jo’s eyebrows shot up, her interest piqued. “Oh yeah? What’s he got?”

“Not sure, but he’s stopping by my place in a few minutes.” Sam glanced at his watch. “It’s almost quitting time anyway. You want to join us?”

Jo hesitated for a moment, weighing her options. She had a pile of paperwork waiting for her at the office, but the prospect of a breakthrough about Feldman was too tempting to pass up.

“Sure, why not?” she said, clicking her seat belt into place. “I could use a break from staring at my computer screen.”

Sam grinned, starting the engine. “Great. Maybe Mick’s found something that will help us crack this case wide open.”

Sam’s home was a log cabin nestled in the heart of the woods, a sanctuary from the chaos of police work. As they pulled up, Jo spotted Mick waiting on the porch, his leather jacket gleaming in the fading light.

Inside, the cabin felt warm and inviting. A stone fireplace dominated the living room, flanked by worn leather couches. Rustic wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, and the walls were adorned with mounted fish that Sam and his grandfather had caught. Jo had spent many evenings here, unwinding after tough cases or celebrating victories. The place didn’t have too many feminine touches, but she really liked it.

Lucy bounded through the door, making a beeline for her water bowl in the corner. Sam headed to the kitchen, grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge.

“Make yourself at home,” he called over his shoulder, rummaging through the cabinets. He emerged with a bag of chips, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Not quite as fancy as what Bridget’s been serving up at your place,” he said, tearing open the bag. “But it’ll have to do.”

They settled in the living room, and Sam handed them each a beer and put the chips on the coffee table. “So what have you got, Mick?”

Mick leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I talked to Feldman’s brother today. He’s convinced there’s no way Feldman killed himself.”

Jo frowned, her fingers tapping against her beer bottle. “What makes him so sure?”

“He said his brother was happy, never talked about killing himself, but apparently, Feldman had been acting nervous and scared even before the robbery,” Mick said, his voice low. “His brother said he was jumpy, always looking over his shoulder like he was expecting someone to come after him.”

Sam’s brow furrowed, his mind racing. “So you think Feldman knew something? Something that got him killed?”

Mick nodded, his expression grim. “That’s what it looks like. And whoever did it made it look like a suicide to cover their tracks.”

Jo leaned back, her eyes widening. “So either Hartman is incompetent, or he was covering up.”

Sam stood up, pacing the room. “Think about it. Feldman worked at the bank. He would have had access to all kinds of information about the robbery. Maybe he saw something he wasn’t supposed to, or maybe he was even involved somehow.”

Jo nodded, her mind whirling with possibilities. “And when the heat got too close, someone decided to shut him up permanently.”

Sam nodded. “But who?”

Mick leaned back, his expression serious. “I can’t tell you how I found this out, but apparently, there was some sort of an investigation going on. Something to do with a big loan the bank had made to Convale.”

Sam’s brows shot up. “Convale? What was the investigation for?”

Mick shrugged. “That was so long ago, there weren’t many people for me to talk to, but something about some rules being bent to give the loan. The state banking commission was looking into it, but get this… all the documents were destroyed in the explosion when the bank was robbed.”

“Whoa.” Jo glanced at Sam. “You don’t think the robbery was a cover-up?”

“If it was, then that sheds a whole new light on the old case and maybe even the Alex Sheridan case,” Jo said.

“Sure does. But what would Alex know about the old bank robbery?” Sam asked.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if Convale was behind it. Is it any coincidence we found the cigar ashes at the crime scene and Victor Sorrentino smokes cigars?” Jo asked.

“I was thinking about that too,” Sam said. “And if that site out by the storage facility is where Alex went into the water, it’s on Beryl Thorne’s property,” Sam said.

Mick chuckled. “And we all know how close Beryl and Victor are.”

“But then, there’s Marnie and Amelia.” Sam sipped his beer. “And I also saw Victor coming out of Henley’s campaign office. There might be another angle we haven’t thought about.”

Mick raised a brow. “Campaign espionage gone wrong?”

“Crazier things have happened.”

Jo put her empty beer bottle on the table and stood. “Well, either way, it looks like we have our work cut out for us, which is why I’d better get home and get a good night’s sleep. It’s going to be a busy day tomorrow.”