Page 53 of Breaking Rules

Major, startled by the sudden outburst, bolted off the desk. In his haste, he knocked the sandwich to the floor, where it landed with a soft plop.

Before anyone could react, Lucy darted forward and gobbled up the fallen sandwich in one swift motion.

The room erupted in laughter, the tension momentarily broken.

“Well, would you look at that.” Sam chuckled. “You’d almost think those two were working together.”

Wyatt grinned. “I don’t know, Sam. We all know Lucy and Major don’t exactly get along. I doubt they’d plan something like this.”

“You know, maybe we’re doing the same thing with this case. Looking for connections where there aren’t any,” Jo said.

Sam nodded slowly, considering her words. “You might be onto something. We’ve been so focused on trying to tie everything together that we might be forcing connections that don’t exist.”

Kevin came into the squad room, his phone clutched in his hand. “Guys, I think I’ve got something.”

“What is it, Kev?” Sam asked.

Kevin held up his screen, which showed an image of the assisted living visitor log. “I went to the assisted living facility to check out Frank Milson’s visitor log. Guess who was there the week before he died.”

Jo leaned forward, squinting at the image. “Is that Hartman? As in, our retired detective Hartman?”

Kevin nodded. “It could be.”

Wyatt stared at it. “It’s a scribble. Could be lots of different names.”

“Including Rickman.” Sam turned to Wyatt. “Does it show anyone calling Hartman from the campaign headquarters in that log?”

Wyatt shook his head.

“Hartman has been all over this case, and he was around back in the day.” Sam looked at Kevin and gestured toward the door. “I think it’s time we pay him a visit. Something tells me he’ll be much easier to get a hold of than Nathan Rickman.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Sam 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.

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