The Eligible Suspect
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Jennifer Morey
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Chapter 1
Each step closer to the Laughing Grass Pizzeria hammered a dark sense of foreboding in deeper. Korbin Maguire took the stairs down to the basement of the old redbrick building, certain his life was about to take a big turn. A man who took charge of his own destiny, he’d steer it in a direction he chose, but there was something else at play, and it would begin to reveal itself here, today, at this restaurant.
Under a high, ornately carved white ceiling, people filled worn wood tables, and conversation echoed in the cavernous room. It smelled like pizza, not marijuana. The latter was reserved for a fee in a private room, since it wasn’t legal to smoke in public. Korbin didn’t smoke the stuff but most of the people he knew did, and this was their favorite hangout.
Spotting Collette Hamilton, he headed over to her. A bleach-blonde with heavy makeup and surgically enhanced breasts, she was borderline trashy but a nice girl nonetheless. It wasn’t her fault she had parents who weren’t around for her and didn’t teach her how to survive anywhere but on the street. She was a woman on the brink of spending her life in and out of the judicial system. And, he’d realized recently, so was he if he didn’t make some drastic changes.
Collette didn’t even smile when he sat across from her. She’d sounded frantic on the phone when she’d asked him to meet her here, which was why he’d come. He had an idea what this was about.
“Where’s Damen?” he asked.
“Not here.” She sounded glad.
Was Damen the reason she’d asked to meet? He wouldn’t be surprised. Damen’s behavior as of late had raised his brow more than once. But why call him?
She’d never shown any indication of interest in him, and he wasn’t interested in any other man’s woman. They’d developed a friendship over the last year. She’d helped him through a rough spot and she talked to him about Damen sometimes. On the hardened side for a woman, a little easy and not very smart, she wasn’t his type. But she had a good heart and he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her, least of all Damen.
“You two having trouble?” he asked.
“He told me that you turned him down on the offer to work a new job,” she said.
She hadn’t answered his question, but that must have something to do with why she was here. Korbin was always careful about how, when and if he broke the law. He also had a tough reputation to back up his freedom of choice. No one forced him to do anything. No one messed with him. If he took a job, he took it on his own terms.
A waitress came to the table and Korbin declined to order anything. Collette had ordered a soda.
“Damen told you I turned him down?”
She nodded, almost in awe. “He wasn’t happy about that at all.”
“No, he wasn’t.” He’d yelled and threatened. Korbin had warned him about the threats. He’d only partially listened, which had been the first wake-up call. That meeting had alerted him to what might lie ahead. Trouble. And it was beginning now. With Collette.
“Korbin, you should watch your back.”
“I’m not afraid of Damen.” There was nothing he could do to hurt him. He had no evidence to prove his past cyber crimes. Korbin was always meticulous about covering his tracks.
Collette smiled. “No, you aren’t, are you? But he’s been unpredictable lately. The fact that you turned him down made him furious. I couldn’t even talk to him about it. He started throwing things.”
Damen’s unpredictability was what bothered Korbin, but he was becoming violent? That caused him more concern. Not for himself, but for Collette. “I’m done with that type of work and nothing Damen does will change that. I’m going to find something else to do. Maybe get a real job. Maybe go see my parents.” He’d been a handful to them and they no longer spoke to him. By his sixteenth birthday, he’d hacked into all of their friends’ computers. By the time he graduated from high school, he’d added teachers and employers to the list. In adulthood, his expertise had attracted Damen Ricchetti’s attention. No more. Damen was out of his life now. He couldn’t be a part of his new direction, wherever that led.
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” Collette said. She pulled back her hair, tucking the strands that had hung over the side of her face. Korbin saw the fresh cut high on her cheek. Then she let her hair fall back down over her face.
Anger boiled to life inside him. “Did he do that to you?”
She nodded, her eyes pooling with tears. “It isn’t the first time. I’ve had black eyes that forced me to stay home until I healed.”
Korbin started to stand. “Where is he?”
“Wait.” Collette grabbed his wrist to stop him. “I just want to get away from him. And I asked you to meet me here today to see if you’d help me.”
He sat back down. She needed help to get away from Damen? “Why can’t you tell him to get lost?” Was she that afraid of him?
“Because he won’t stay lost. He’s threatened me many times that if I break up with him he’ll kill me. He wants me to move in with him, and I can’t do that. I need to get away from here.”
Korbin hadn’t thought in great detail about what he was going to do or where he’d go, if anywhere. He figured he’d start with a trip to see his parents. If they’d see him.
Damen’s saying he’d kill his girlfriend if she broke up with him changed the game. That made him far more dangerous than he’d anticipated and confirmed some suspicions he’d had. But first he’d step in and teach Damen a lesson.
“Of course I’ll help you.” He didn’t have it in him not to. He would never leave her, or anyone, helpless against violence. Damen had abused her. He was going to pay for that.
He should have become a cop.
Collette reached over and put her hand over his. “I know why you’re getting out, Korbin.”
Everyone associated with Damen knew that. But it was too raw to talk about.
“It’s a good decision,” she said in his silence.
Smothering the tide of unwelcome emotion, he asked, “What do you need me to do?”
She half smiled, a pity smile, empathizing but not saying any more on the matter. Slipping her hand from his, she said, “Help me find a place to go. Somewhere Damen won’t find me.”
That wouldn’t be a problem. “All right. I’ll need today to prepare.”
“Okay. Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. I’d do it myself but I don’t have the resources you do. Damen would probably catch me before I left town.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. “Do you need money? A place to stay?”
“No, I should be okay. I’ll just be happy to have a life free of Damen.”
He’d give her enough to get by for a few months. His parents may not be speaking to him but they hadn’t taken away his trust fund yet. “Be ready to leave in the morning. Meet me back here at eight.” He put some cash down on the table and stood with her, putting his hand on her lower back to guide her toward the stairs. Out on the street, he looked around for any sign of Damen. Not seeing any, he walked with Collette to her car. There, he looked around again and then reached under his shirt for the gun he’d put in the back of his jeans. Foreboding had compelled him to do that. Otherwise he never carried.
“Take this.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Wha—”
“Don’t let him in your house. If he gets violent again, use it to get away from him.”
“But...I can’t kill him!”
“Then aim for his knee. Just get away from him. You only have to make it to tomorrow morning. The goal is to act normal so he doesn’t figure it out. I’m hoping you won’t have to use it. But just in case...”
Collette put the gun into her purse. “Okay. Tomorrow morning.” She seemed worried.
“It will be okay,” he said. Leaning forward, he gave her a hug, one that elicited a comforted sigh from her.
“You’re a good man, Korbin Maguire.” She stepped back with a smile and got into her car.
He closed her door and waved back when she did. She thought he was a good man. He wasn’t, but he was going to be.
* * *
Early the next morning, Korbin woke to his ringing doorbell and pounding on the front door of his home in Lone Tree, Colorado. More pounding suggested urgency. He got up and went to the window of his second-story bedroom, which had a view of the driveway and part of the front entrance. A sedan was in the driveway and two men stood at the door. They wore jackets. Professional. Who were they?
He put on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt and went down to the door. More pounding and ringing grew louder.
“Denver police. Open up!” one of them shouted.
Police? What were they doing here?
Korbin opened the door, leaving the security bar in place.
“Korbin Maguire?” One of the men opened a wallet to show him a badge. He was older than the dark-haired man.
Had something happened to Collette? Real worry for her swelled within him. “Yes.” He released the security bar and opened the door.
“Do you drive a Mercedes AMG Black Series?” the older officer asked.
Why were they asking him about his car? “Rarely. I mostly drive my truck.” He began to wish he hadn’t opened the door so soon. If this was some sort of ruse...
“But you own a Mercedes AMG, correct?”
He hesitated, wondering why they were asking him about his car. “Yes. What’s this all about?”
“Would you step outside, please?”
The two men moved back to give him room. Korbin didn’t see any way out of this. If they were real cops—and they seemed to be—he couldn’t refuse. He stepped outside onto the front porch.
“You’re under arrest for a hit-and-run that resulted in death.”
The younger officer produced a pair of cuffs. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Did he say death?
Numbly, Korbin turned around as the younger officer handcuffed him. In the street, more police cars appeared, lights flashing.
“I don’t understand,” Korbin said. “I didn’t drive anywhere last night. My car is in the garage.”
The older officer nodded to the one who’d cuffed him. Uniformed policemen gathered in the yard.
All three garage doors opened and Korbin saw the stall where he parked his Mercedes-Benz coupe was empty. His car was gone. Only his dark blue pickup truck was in the next stall over, closest to the inner door.
“Someone stole my car,” Korbin said.
“Come with us. We’ll take your statement at the station.” The younger officer guided him to the backseat of the sedan, reciting his rights as they went.
Had a stranger stolen his car and then run when he’d hit someone? His Mercedes-Benz coupe would be a prize for any car thief. Someone could have broken in and taken it. But how had his security system been breached? Whoever had broken in had experience. Professional experience. That’s where the stranger theory fell apart. Someone had deliberately stolen his car. Someone who knew him.
This had the stink of Damen. Their last conversation filtered into his mind. Damen had accused him of thinking he was better than him and said he’d regret not partnering with him. Collette had reinforced his emotional reaction. It had led to him beating her. And then she’d come to him for help. Had Damen found out? Had she told him? Or had he made her? Korbin hadn’t seen Damen anywhere near the Laughing Grass, but had he followed Collette?
It was possible. And Damen had plenty of experience breaking into buildings. And even more damning, he’d suggested the security system Korbin had installed in his house.
But if Damen had stolen his car, why leave the car at a hit-and-run scene?
All the way to the police station, questions pummeled him. By the time he was led into the interrogation room, he was convinced Damen had set him up. He’d deliberately run someone over and left the car there. His behavior was violent enough to support that assumption.
Korbin stewed with anger as he sat at a gray table in an interrogation room. The entire room was gray. Gray walls. Gray door. He’d have a gray life if he didn’t find a way out of this.
The older officer—the detective who’d been at his door—entered the room.
“What happened?” Korbin asked. “Why am I here?”
He sat across from him. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”
“Why was I arrested? You said it was for a hit-and-run.” That resulted in death. “I didn’t run anyone over.”
“Tell me about your day yesterday, Mr. Maguire. Let’s start in the morning. Take me from then all the way until this morning.”
The detective was following protocol and obviously didn’t believe Korbin. Why would he? He must hear all kinds of excuses and lies from people he had to question for crimes.
“I woke up at about eight, made some coffee. Watched some television for a while, and then went to meet a friend at the Laughing Grass Pizzeria.”
“What time was that?”
“Two in the afternoon.”
“What friend did you meet?”
“Collette Hamilton.” He explained that she was worried about Damen hurting her and that they had made plans to meet back at the restaurant this morning, when he’d help her get out of town. He checked the time. He wasn’t going to make it now.
“She came to you for help?”
Did that seem strange? “Yes. We’re friends.”
“Romantic friends?”
“No.”
“Has this Damen Ricchetti been violent with her before?”
“I wasn’t aware of his abuse until she told me yesterday.” But he explained how Damen had been behaving differently, leaving out why.
“Why did she go to you for help? Why did she need your help? I guess I don’t understand why she couldn’t leave on her own.”
“She trusts me. And she’s afraid of Damen.”
“What were you going to do to help her?”
“I found her a place to stay where she’ll be safe for a while.” He didn’t mention the fake ID. “And I’m going to give her some money.”
“She knew you had money?”
He nodded.
“Please respond verbally for the recording.”
“Yes, she knows I have money. Look, I need to get out of here so I can help her.”
The detective stared at him for a long moment. Korbin hoped Collette’s knowledge of him having money would provide enough of a motive for her to come to him for help.
“What do you do, Mr. Maguire?”
“I have a degree in computer science, but I’m not working right now. I have a trust fund.”
The detective nodded, watching him again. “After you left the restaurant...which one did you say it was?”
“The Laughing Grass,” he said. “Pizzeria.”
“Don’t they sell pot there?”
“They don’t sell it, but you can bring your own and smoke it in a private room. As long as you’re a member of their club, it’s legal.”
“Do you smoke pot?”
Was he trying to establish something about his character? “No.”
“Did you smoke some pot yesterday?”
“No.”
Korbin suffered another of the detective’s stares. “Where did you go after you left the restaurant and what time was that?”
“Around three. I went straight home. I did some internet searches on places for Collette. A place to rent. And I withdrew some money for her.”
“So you did go out last night.”
“No. I stopped at my bank on the way home.”
“But you just told me you went straight home.”
“You can check with my bank. I was there shortly after three.” He gave the name of his bank. “After I got some cash for Collette, I went home.”
“And what time did you finish searching the internet?”
“About eleven. Then I went to bed.”
“The hit-and-run occurred at 2:21 a.m. A thirty-year-old man was crossing the street with the walking sign lit. He wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“Someone stole my car,” he said. “And I think it was Damen.” He’d been home and hadn’t heard him break into the garage and drive away with it. Damen was the only person he knew who could do that.
“Can anyone confirm you were home all night?” The detective ignored his claims, the raisin creases of his forehead deepening as he fixed impassive eyes on him.
“No.”
“Has Ms. Hamilton ever filed charges against this Mr. Ricchetti?”
“Not that I’m aware of. She told me he threatened to kill her. She’s afraid of him.”
“And since you’re such a nice guy you agreed to help her?”
Korbin didn’t respond to that, but his fear for Collette’s safety was another matter. “Please. Either let me go so I can check on her, or have someone go check on her for me. Damen might have hurt her.” He should never have let her go back to her house alone. He should have stayed with her and taken her home with him.
“If you’re so worried about her, why didn’t you notify the police after she came to you?”
In Korbin’s line of work, going to the police was never an option. He hadn’t even considered it when he’d met Collette. “I guess I thought she should be the one to do that.” And he hadn’t thought she’d be in too much danger.
The detective sighed and leaned back against the chair. He studied Korbin a while, not believing him.
“Witnesses got your plate number after the hit-and-run. We found the car abandoned not far from the scene.”
“It wasn’t me driving.”
“They described a man who looks like you.”
Damen had dark hair but wasn’t as tall. Three inches shorter.
“Wasn’t it dark at 2:21 in the morning?” Korbin asked.
The detective didn’t respond. He had to realize that would make a difference. No one could positively identify him without any doubt.
Another detective entered the room and motioned for the other to come to him. He did and listened to the man. Korbin couldn’t make out what was being said.
A moment later, the other man left and the detective returned to his seat.
“There’s no evidence of a break-in at your home, Mr. Maguire.” He looked at him, waiting for an explanation.
Korbin had none.
“Your security system is operational. There’s nothing broken. No fingerprints.”
Damen must have found a way inside. Copied a key. Taken a garage door opener. Something.
“Why don’t you tell me what really happened?” the detective said.
“I have. I didn’t kill anyone. My car was stolen and I think it was Damen who did it.”
“Why would he do that?”
He couldn’t say it was because he’d refused an illegal hacker job. “He must have seen me meet with his girlfriend.” That had to be it. Korbin hadn’t looked closely on his way inside. It was only after he’d realized Damen was becoming violent that he’d paid more attention. Damen could have seen him go inside to meet Collette. He may have even sneaked inside. Spied on them.
“And in a jealous rage, stole your car and deliberately ran a stranger over so you’d be charged?”
“Yes. Check the car for evidence that he was in it.” Damen would have worn gloves but maybe there’d be other evidence.
“He’s your friend. He could have been in the car before this.”
“I wasn’t driving the car. It wasn’t me.”
The detective didn’t respond. No one would believe he wasn’t the one driving his car. But the detective began to show signs of doubt. Or maybe he just didn’t have enough on him yet. The evidence hadn’t been fully analyzed. Korbin now had a taste of what it was like to be falsely accused. At all costs, he had to prove his innocence, or Damen would have his way and Korbin would spend time in prison.
* * *
Korbin was released on his own recognizance and was out by late afternoon. He was worried sick about Collette. He took a taxi home to get his phone and saw that she hadn’t called—not even when he hadn’t shown up at the Laughing Grass this morning. She wasn’t answering her phone, either. He tried calling Damen but he didn’t answer. Where was Collette? Was she all right?
Parking his truck outside Collette’s house, he jumped out and jogged to her door, knocking several times and ringing the doorbell. When that produced nothing, he used his tool to unlock the door, looking around to make sure he wasn’t seen. Going inside, he took two steps in, shutting the door behind him, and saw a lamp and some picture frames broken. And on the other side of the couch, Collette lay on the floor. Blood had soaked the carpet beneath her. She’d been shot and it looked like she’d been dead several hours.
“No.” Korbin was light-headed with shock and dismay as he rushed over to her.
He crouched to check for life even though he knew she was gone. Her eyes stared sightlessly up at the ceiling. Breathing out a harsh breath, Korbin bent his head and swore. How could he have allowed this to happen? How? She’d come to him for help and he’d failed her. Damen had killed her. She’d been afraid of him and he’d killed her.
Standing, he picked up a dining room chair and slammed it down onto the floor with a growl. It broke into pieces. The horror of what Damen had done almost made him pick up another.
His wife’s beautiful face came to him, engulfing him with terrible grief and guilt. He hadn’t saved her, either. She’d died because of his underestimation of Damen. Just like Collette. While ravaging guilt and helplessness gripped him, he vowed to bring Damen to justice.
Returning to Collette’s body, he began to search for evidence, carefully checking the area surrounding her and her clothes, all the while not disturbing any of the crime scene.
The gun...
With that sobering thought, he looked for the weapon. It wasn’t here. He searched the whole house and didn’t find the gun he’d given her.
He went to her computer. She didn’t keep it locked, so he easily clicked his way to her email. Not finding anything there, he went through all of her files. In a folder labeled “Resumes,” he found an email file with the subject “What’s Next?” It was an exchange between Damen and a man he didn’t know. Korbin opened it and realized his luck had finally improved. Collette had forwarded an email exchange from Damen’s machine to hers. She’d cleverly hidden it in the file folder and deleted it from her email program. If Damen had checked, he’d missed it.
Korbin printed a copy, reading the exchange on the screen. A man named Tony wanted to know if Damen had finished putting together a team and Damen had replied with Not yet, but I’m close. The time the email was sent was a few days after Korbin had refused his request. Tony had replied, You promised me a team. If you can’t handle this, I’ll have to make other arrangements. What wasn’t written there was what Tony would do with Damen if he failed him. You’ll have your team, Damen had responded. And the last of the thread was Tony saying, For your sake, I hope so.
With Collette dead, Korbin didn’t have to worry about Damen finding out that she was onto him. What else had she known? What had made her keep this email thread? Korbin wished he could ask her.
Wiping his prints from the mouse and anywhere else he’d touched, he left the house, deliberately leaving the email open on Collette’s computer so that it would be easy for police to find.
Now he had to get somewhere safe to hide, somewhere he could do some research on Tony Bartoszewicz. And figure out a strategy to take Damen down. Before Damen cost him more than he already had.
