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Testimony of Innocence -BK2 of Samantha Cain Mysteries

By Deborah Lynne

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Chapter 1

Three hard knocks sounded on the front door, awakening Samantha from her short nap on the couch after working the night shift.

She stirred. Open your eyes. Forcing her eyes open, Samantha glanced at her watch. Umph. Nearly time for her to wake her son, Marty, for school.

Three more raps pounded on the door. Who could that be at this early hour?

Instantly, an image from six short months ago flashed through her mind. Two police officers stood at her apartment door with bad news: Matthew Jefferies, her fiancé, had been killed in the line of duty.
Her insides coiled as she rose. Ice tipped her fingers as she stared at the door with her feet felt frozen to the floor.

The demanding knocks came a third time. Against her better judgment, she moved in the direction of the front door. Taking a quick cleansing, reassuring breath, she slowly reached out for the doorknob. The cold round ball matched the chill within. Only bad news came this early in the morning. “Give me that extra strength, Lord,” she whispered.

A single thought allowed her a moment of cheer. Maybe Greg, Matthew’s dear friend and now hers, or Amanda, her best friend for many years, decided to drop by to say hello and check on her and Marty. But that pleasing idea vanished almost as fast as it had come. She knew better. Emptiness gnawed at her heart as she released the breath she had held, and then she forced herself to open the door.

Morning light spilled inside the door, revealing two strange men standing on the front porch. Both were dressed in off-the-rack suits: one brown, one blue. Glancing behind the unexpected men, she saw a dark blue government-issued car parked in the driveway and realized the men were plain-clothed police officers, detectives of some sort. This reality intensified the grip on her insides as she tightened her hold on the doorknob.

Not again. She bit her bottom lip, trying to retain control of her emotions. What could they possibly want with her?

“Hello. May I help you?” Her tone surprised her. It sounded calm, almost peaceful, as if she were glad to find them standing on her front steps. But voices, she knew could be deceiving. In her heart, she wanted to yell at them to go away. It had only been six months since Matthew died—a week before their wedding. You’d think after that tragedy she could handle anything that came her way. But she was still grieving.

“Samantha Cain?” The man in the brown suit flashed his badge.

“Yes.”

“I’m Lieutenant Jones, and this is Sergeant Barnett. May we come in?” As the first man spoke, the man in blue also exposed his badge, as if making sure there was no misunderstanding that both were police detectives there on official business.

She opened the door wider. “Please come in. Take a seat. I’ll be back in a minute. I have to wake my son for school.” Shivers raced through her as she walked out of the living room. She wanted to run and hide. What was this about? Her heart tightened. At least her son—the most important thing in her life—was fine. She planned to keep him safe and guard him from the ugliness of the world. In the first eight years of his life, Marty had already lived through too much. First his father, who took his own life, and then the death of Matthew, who planned to be his future father—truly his daddy.
What more could possibly go wrong? Sam also knew her parents were fine. She had spoken to them last night.

What else was there? Who else was there? She sighed. Whatever it was, she would handle it. Life would still go on, day after day.

Knocking on Marty’s door, she stepped into the room and slipped over to his bedside. “Hey, baby, it’s time to get up. Get ready for school,” she whispered, shaking him gently. “Rise and shine.” She stepped to the window and rolled the plastic pole slightly with her fingertips, opening the blinds a crack. Sunlight spilled into his room.

“Awe, Mom, do I have to?” His little body stretched as he tried to open his eyes. Twisting under his covers, he hid his face from the light and tried to go back to sleep. The boy knew the answer before he asked, so she didn’t bother to respond. He would get up. That she also knew. He loved school—the learning and the playing.

“We have company, so I may not get to make you breakfast,” she told him in a matter-of-fact tone. “You can fix yourself a bowl of cereal, or better still, tap on Ms. Margaret’s door. Tell her I have some company and ask her if she’ll fix you something this morning. Tell her I’ll explain later. Right now, I’ll go put on the coffee pot for her.” She ruffled her son’s dark reddish hair. “Get up now. Be a good boy.”
Taking another route back to the living room, she slipped through the kitchen and turned on the coffeemaker. Margaret always pre-cleaned and set the machine with grounds and water the night before. The woman was such a blessing in Sam’s life.

Next Sam walked through the swinging door separating the kitchen from the living room. The floor plan of Matthew’s home, now hers and Marty’s home, was laid out exceptionally well. The house was warm, cozy, efficient.

Matthew had listed Samantha as his beneficiary, leaving everything to her, including his house. At first it had been strange and unsettling living there without him in it, especially since that was where they had planned to live once married. After a short time she realized the blessing. Living there now kept his image, his scent, her memories of him, and the time they had spent together closer to her and to Marty. Matthew had been a strong influence in her son’s life, even though the time had been short. Already his home felt like theirs, with only great memories hidden in the shadows.

“Now gentlemen, what can I do for you?” Masking her insecurities, she perched on Matthew’s favorite chair across from them. Matthew may not be there for her now, but she felt his presence in his things.

“We have a few questions for you,” the lieutenant said as Sergeant Barnett pulled out a pad and pen.

“About what? What questions could you possibly have for me? You two are detectives, right? From which precinct and which division?” As a former cop’s wife Sam knew there were several divisions, such as robbery, homicide, burglary, and even a general investigations division. But she had no idea what they could possibly want with her.

“When was the last time you saw your boss, Ken Richardson? And what did you two talk about?”

“My boss?” Them asking questions about Ken had never entered her mind. She had to think on that one—for two reasons. One, she didn’t get along that well with her boss and tried to keep her distance from him as much as possible; and two, she worked the night shift, which gave her little, if any, contact with him. He left every day at four-thirty on the dot, and she worked the night shift, 6 p.m. to 6 a.m..
“Is Ken okay?” For the two of them to come to her door something had to have happened to Ken. But still, why come to her? She only worked for the man. Sam only knew him as a boss.

“Answer our question, Ms. Cain. When was the last time you saw or spoke with Ken Richardson?”
“I don’t understand why you’d be asking me about my boss. What’s wrong? Did he do something wrong or did something happen to him? No one mentioned anything about him last night at work when I went on duty. And no one called about him during the night. I was there all night. So why are you asking me about my boss this early in the morning?”

Sam hoped he was okay. Even though she didn’t get along very well with the man, she didn’t want to see anything bad happen to him. As a person, a family man, he was great…just not as a boss.

“Ms. Cain, please. Answer the questions. We can bring you in to the station if you’d rather answer our questions there.”

She pulled in a quick breath. Bring me down to the station? Shivers slid across her shoulders. Sam didn’t want to go there.

This is ridiculous. Why ask me about Ken? They should talk to Dorothy.

“Again, when was the last time you saw your boss?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. The last dispatch meeting we had, I guess. And that was over a month ago.”

“You guess?” Jones questioned, his brows raised, his eyes burning a hole through her. Then a smug looked crossed his features. “Why are you asking if he’s okay? What do you know about him?”

“I don’t know anything. I’m asking because you’re asking me questions about him. And you came to my house to do it. That tells me something is wrong. So what happened? Where is he? Is he okay?”

“Please, Ms. Cain. You need to answer my questions.” His growl shook her to the core. “You said the last time you saw him was at a dispatch meeting, but then you said you guess. Did you or did you not last see him at that meeting?”

“You misunderstand. I’m sure I saw him at the last dispatcher’s meeting, He runs them, and I was there. I just can’t be sure if I’ve seen him since the meeting. You see I don’t see him very much since I work nights. He’s gone before I come on duty. The only time I see him is when we have a dispatcher’s meeting, or when he calls me in for a private meeting—to question me on how I handled a particular incident. I don’t think that’s happened since the last dispatcher meeting…but I’m not positive. Give me a second.” Squinting, she glanced from one man to the other.

As much as she tried to concentrate on the last time she saw Ken, the fact the detectives were at her house talking to her about him would not let go of her brain. Finally she said, “I still don’t understand why you are asking me questions about Ken, unless something has happened to him. And then, still, why ask me? I don’t know the man outside of work.” She shook her head. “Something’s got to be wrong. Please tell me he’s okay?”

Ignoring her plea, Sergeant Barnett wrote as the Lieutenant continued his interrogation. “Where were you last night between midnight and 4 a.m.?”

She rolled her eyes. Do they not listen when I speak? Didn’t I just tell him I was there all night? Keep your cool. Drawing a relaxing breath she took a second to control her tone. “At work, like I just said. I work the night shift, six at night to six in the morning, four nights a week. Sunday nights through Thursday mornings.”

What was going on? No hints, no clues were given so she asked again, “Why are you here? Is Ken okay? Please tell me at least that much.” Her nerves tightened like strings on a guitar as the tuning pegs were twisted. Why couldn’t they answer her questions? She answered theirs.

“We’ll get to that, Ma’am. Did you talk to Mr. Richardson last night from work? Did you call him? Or did he call you?”

Something doesn’t feel right. Uneasiness crept through her. Maybe Ken got arrested for something.

“Has he done something wrong? Something illegal? At least tell me that.” Tired of this one-sided conversation, Sam tried to stand her ground. “I want to know what’s going on before I say anything else to you—not that I like the guy or anything, and I’m not out to protect him, but I don’t want to be the one accused of getting him in trouble either.” She had to look out for herself. Since she worked for the man, she was the onw who would have to put up with any repercussions from this interrogation. No one else would protect her—not anymore.

Besides, she knew if she got Richardson in trouble, there would be payback later…although she had to admit he had been nicer to her since her engagement to Matthew. Even since Matthew’s death, Ken had remained a decent guy to her, and she for one would like to keep it that way.
A frown creased Barnett’s forehead as he glanced at Lieutenant Jones.

“Please, Ma’am,” Jones said, even though the tone didn’t say please, “we need the answers to these questions. If you don’t want to answer them here, like I said before, we can take you down to headquarters.”

“This is absurd.” She shifted, straightening her spine. She hadn’t been to the station since the day after Matthew’s funeral. They had brought her in to give her his belongings from his desk, things they had cleared out. Other than that, she had handled all her dealings with the police station through the lawyer Matthew had used when he drew up his Will. That was more contact than she cared to have with the police station…then, now, or ever.

Her insides quivered at the thought of going back down there. No. She wasn’t ready. Blinking her eyes rapidly, she held back the tears that threatened as memories washed over her like a sudden downpour of rain. Her shoulders sagged and she released a pent up breath of air. In a very low voice, yet calm sounding. “Okay. What was the question again?”

“Did you talk to Ken Richardson last night while you were at work?”

Keeping her voice steady she said, “As I said earlier, no one talked to me about him, nor did I talk to Ken last night.”

“You didn’t call him from work around midnight last night?”

“No. Most definitely not.” Lifting both her hands, palms face out as if giving up, she waved them vigorously. “Trust me.” Then thrusting her thumb toward her chest, she said, “I would have remembered if I’d called and had to wake him up at that time of night. He likes us to handle all situations. We only call him in extreme emergencies.”

“And he didn’t come by the office during the night?”

“No,” she said decisively.

Barnett’s gaze jumped from Samantha Cain back to his partner.

Jones eyed her suspiciously. “Did anything strange happen at your place of business last night?”
Sam dragged her fingers through her long brown hair, still in disarray from laying down for a short nap. She restrained from the desire to pull her hair out; they were driving her so crazy. I have rights…don’t I?
Locking her gaze on the Lieutenant, she lifted her chin boldly. “Look, I demand you tell me what this is all about. I have a right to know. I’ve answered your questions. At least let me know he’s okay.” She folded her arms across her chest, ready to keep her mouth shut and say no more, even if it meant going down to the station.

If he was in trouble, that was one thing, but if something happened to him, she wanted to know. Dorothy, his wife, may need someone to talk to. The woman had been there for her when Matthew died. Sam wanted to be there for Dorothy, if needed.

Apparently they got the message, because the lieutenant glared straight into her eyes and said, “Your boss was found dead on the floor of his office this morning.”

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