The Eligible Suspect. Jennifer Morey

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      “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.

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