The Eligible Suspect. Jennifer Morey

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      “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 СКАЧАТЬ