Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

S am and Kevin pulled into the driveway of Hartman’s modest ranch home, nestled in an older neighborhood with large, tree-lined lots and neatly manicured lawns. The houses were small but well maintained, with a certain charm that came with age. As they exited the car, Kevin felt a swell of pride at being back out in the field. Sam asking him to ride along was a sure sign that he’d regained Sam’s trust after his recent struggles with memory. He patted Lucy reassuringly, and she nudged her cold, wet nose into his palm as if sensing his need for comfort.

“Ready?” Sam asked, glancing at Kevin.

“Yep,” Kevin replied, trying to sound confident.

They approached the front door and knocked. No one answered.

Lucy darted around the back of the house, her tail wagging with purpose. Sam and Kevin exchanged a look before following her, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons.

As they rounded the corner, they saw the reason for Lucy’s sudden interest. The back door’s glass had been shattered, jagged edges glinting in the sunlight. Sam furrowed his brow, and Kevin felt a chill run down his spine. This was not a good sign.

“Looks like a break-in,” Sam muttered, drawing his gun. “Stay sharp.”

Kevin nodded, his own weapon already in hand. They carefully stepped over the broken glass, the crunch beneath their feet sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet neighborhood. Lucy sniffed the air, her ears perked and alert.

“Hartman, you in here?” Sam called. When there was no answer, he called out again. “Police! Put your hands up!”

There was no sound. The house was eerily still. Sam and Kevin moved methodically from room to room, their footsteps muffled by the worn carpet. No one else was inside.

As they entered the dining room, they found a scene of disarray. Papers were strewn across the table, some fluttering to the floor as a breeze from the broken door swept through the room. Sam holstered his gun and picked up one of the sheets, his eyes scanning the contents.

“Looks like Hartman was going over the old case files,” he said, his voice low and pensive. “But there are gaps—like someone took some of the papers.”

Kevin leaned in, studying the table. He noticed the empty spaces, the outlines of missing documents visible in the thin layer of dust. A sense of unease settled in his gut.

He took out his phone and took some pictures of the scene.

“Whoever broke in must have taken them,” Kevin mused, his mind racing with possibilities. “Maybe they contained something incriminating, something that could implicate someone in the robbery.”

Sam surveyed the room, taking in the dated but well-maintained furniture and outdated carpeting. Kevin followed his gaze, trying to piece together the puzzle of Hartman’s life.

“Does this look like the house of someone who has a lot of old bank-robbery money?” Sam asked, his voice laced with skepticism.

Kevin shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. Maybe he was saving it or gave it to his kids.”

“We’ll have to look into that,” Sam noted, his brow furrowed in thought. “But maybe he didn’t get any bank-robbery money at all. Maybe he was in the evidence room because he was investigating.”

“But why?” Kevin asked. “He was the investigator back in the day.”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe he figured he missed something and wanted to find out if he could solve the case now.”

Kevin glanced at the table. “Yeah, and maybe he got too close.”

Lucy caught Kevin’s attention. She was standing at a side table loaded with framed family photos. Kevin walked over, picking up a picture of a younger Hartman with two girls.

“Looks like he’s a family man,” Kevin said softly, a twinge of sadness in his voice. As he studied the photo, something clicked in Kevin’s mind. He turned to Sam, excitement building in his chest. “I might have an idea,” he said, his eyes wide with realization.

“What?”

“Remember, there was a photo in the box that Alex had from his grandfather’s belongings. It was a photo of who I assumed was his grandfather and another man. It was from their younger days, and they were sitting around a table with some sort of blueprints in front of them.”

Sam’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Cigars. You think those men might be the ones that were involved in the robbery?”

“Exactly,” Kevin said, nodding eagerly. “If we can identify the other man in that photo, it might give us something to go on.”

Sam surveyed the disarray in Hartman’s dining room once more, his expression grave. “There’s no way Hartman left this mess. And the broken door? Someone took him. We need to treat this like a crime scene.”

Kevin nodded, his mind already shifting into investigative mode. “And that means he must have been on to something. I’ll start processing the scene, see if I can find any clues or evidence that might help us figure out who did this.”

“Good idea,” Sam agreed, pulling out his phone. “I’m going to head back to the station and grab that photo. I have a feeling that other man might be Nathan Rickman.”

As Sam turned to leave, he paused, placing a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “Good work, Kevin,” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Looks like your memory is much better. Keep it up.”

Kevin felt a surge of pride and happiness at Sam’s words. It meant the world to him to know that he was regaining his chief’s trust and proving his worth as a detective once more. “Thanks, Sam,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. “I won’t let you down.”