The Eligible Suspect (10 page)

She gaped at him as long as she dared while she drove. “You make it sound like you were a member of a street gang.”

“It was starting to feel like that.”

She didn’t know how to handle all of this. Part of her said drive somewhere safe and get away from him. Another sensed he was an innocent man who needed some help.

“I’m sorry about all of this,” Korbin said.

She said nothing, unwilling to encourage him or let him think she was going to go along with any of this.

“I would have taken a bullet for you back there,” he said. She glanced at him because she heard how much he meant it.

He turned from the window. “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

She glanced over at him. Then looked forward at the curving highway ahead.

“Collette was someone special?” she asked.

“Not romantically. She had a rough go as a teenager. That led her to Damen’s door. But she was trying to better herself. She was a nice girl, wouldn’t have hurt anyone. She deserved more than what she got.”

His wife had died. His friend. And a stranger. All because of his association with Damen. All but his wife...or was she included in that stat?

“How exactly did your wife die?” she asked. He’d noncommittally said it was an accident, and she hadn’t asked what kind.

It was a long moment before he replied. “She was shot.” He turned toward the window again. “A group of men drove by. They were trying to kill Damen, and they got her instead.”

Oh, dear God
. How terrible! Savanna didn’t know what to say at first. But then she began to wonder about some things.

“Why was someone shooting at Damen?”

“I never did get a straight answer, but the police said it was gang-related. That’s when I found out Damen was selling drugs. He must have gotten too close to their territory. After they missed him, he sent out his own posse. I didn’t know he had people like that working for him until then. I didn’t see much of him after Niya died. I was too...”

Grief-stricken.

Savanna felt the sting of sympathy. It stung because it only hammered home what she’d already realized this morning. He wasn’t ready for a relationship. She could argue that neither was she, but sleeping with him had been stupid on her part. If she was ever going to succeed in sparing her heart from further damage, she had to start making smarter decisions.

“It took me a while to process everything,” he said. “About eight months later, Damen came to me. He asked if I’d help him with a new deal he was working. He said he couldn’t tell me any details until I agreed to join the project. That’s when I told him I was finished. We had words. I accused him of my wife’s death. It was essentially his fault. He got into drug dealing without telling me. My wife and I were not aware of how much danger we were in just by being with him. I was furious with him for that. He tried to threaten me, but backed off.”

Going over his big frame, appreciating it too much, she recognized his confidence. She could see how his friend wouldn’t try to go up against him. But Damen could make him pay in other ways, like staging a hit-and-run. He’d underestimated what would happen after that, however. Or he wouldn’t be lying in that cabin broken and bleeding.

“But he never got over it,” she said.

“Damen was always competing with me. I had the college degree. I had a beautiful wife. And he could never control me. He made comments every once in a while. I should have paid closer attention.”

“So when he saw you with his girlfriend, he snapped.”

Korbin nodded solemnly. “He must have heard her when she called me and followed her.”

“Do you think he had your wife killed intentionally?”

His head shot up and turned to her. He’d never considered that. But it was entirely possible that Damen had arranged for a drive-by.

“Those men were part of a gang,” Korbin said. “It was in the police report. They were all arrested and sent to prison with varying sentences. The one who fired the fatal shot got life.”

She slowed the truck as they arrived in Monte Vista. Brick and stone buildings lined the two-lane road. A car pulled into a diagonal parking space. People walked along the sidewalks on both sides, the late-afternoon sun casting long winter shadows.

“Let’s get rid of this truck and get some different clothes,” Korbin said. “Maybe some hats.”

She supposed she ought to feel like a fugitive. But with Korbin appearing to be wrongly accused, she didn’t.

“You want to know what I think?” she asked.

“What’s that?”

“I think I was a boring motivational speaker.”

When he just looked at her. She didn’t explain. She was in a box when she spoke about love and optimism. This was no box. This was real life. Too bad she didn’t have a speech to uplift her.

Seeing a clothing store and gift shop, she turned the next corner and parked in a back parking lot. Together they walked to a back entrance to the shop. A bell jingled as Korbin opened the door for her and she stepped inside. He put his hand on her lower back as she walked down the narrow hall. The contact brought back the intimacy they’d shared, firing tingling warmth everywhere.

A woman with curly white hair peeked down the hall from her post behind the counter.

“Welcome to Nelly’s. Anything I can help you find?” She was an energetic sixty-five-year-old in an ankle-length plaid skirt with an elastic waist and a white blouse tucked in.

“We’ll look around,” Korbin said.

The woman turned back to the man at the counter, who was paying for whatever he’d bought that the woman had put into a bag.

Savanna sifted through a rack of long-sleeved shirts, looking up at Korbin as he perused the men’s section. Tall, hard-muscled, pronounced jawline peppered with stubble, his sex appeal kept her heated. She had a vivid recollection of that steamy night. Steamier than any other in her life. She didn’t think she’d ever spent so much time making love with anyone.

Finding a dark blue waffle henley, she draped that over her arm and moved on to the pants. There was a display of hats on top of the rectangular white shelf. Savanna picked out a pair of black leather ponte pants and snagged a black newsboy hat. There was a small section of shoes and she found an okay pair of black Sorel boots. At least she could get rid of the boots Hurley had lent her. Next, she found a hoodie and headed for the dressing room. All the sizes fit so she removed all of the tags and brought them out with her.

Korbin waited for her outside the door of the fitting room and extended a jacket to her, black to match her hat. She smiled at the fact that he’d noticed what she’d chosen and then ran her gaze over his new outfit. He’d opted for a black pair of jeans and crew neck sweater. He’d also found another pair of boots. Black, like the rest of his outfit.

“Planning on doing some sneaking around late at night?” she asked.

He grinned. “Can’t hurt to be prepared.” He slipped on a beanie and she all but melted into a puddle. All the black really brought out the shine of his gray eyes.

Dipping down, he angled his head to reach under her hat and kiss her. It was so unexpected that she had no time to react. But then burning heat turned her tingles into throbbing desire.

When he let her lips go, she had to catch her breath.

“Let’s go.” The sound of his sexy voice only strummed her nerves more.

He took out a wallet he had in his back pocket and paid cash for their purchases, the white-haired lady eyeing them. Leaving there, Savanna walked beside him as he searched for a place to find a car. They walked up the main street for a while.

Savanna watched him. Sure enough, the guilt settled in. He’d been drawn to kiss her and soon after felt at odds with himself.

“Police,” he said.

Seeing an unmarked police SUV approach down the highway, she lifted the hood of her jacket to cover her long hair. The car passed without notice.

“There’s a rental car place up ahead,” Korbin said.

“We’re going to rent a car?”

There was also a bus stop across the street. Korbin saw it at the same time and they looked at each other in agreement.

But as she walked with him to pay for two tickets, she wondered if she should go find the sheriff instead. She wasn’t wanted for anything. The police were looking for Korbin. Did she really want to be involved with this anymore? Did she really want to risk more nights like the one they had at the yurt? With him—a man who’d suffered such great loss. A man who was a criminal whether he’d been falsely accused of the hit-and-run or not. He’d spent a good chunk of his adult life stealing from the rich.

Could she trust him? Could she trust her heart, her future, with a man like him? An instinctive voice whispered,
No
. He’d never said he’d stop stealing from the rich, stop hacking. He drew the line with Damen, but did that matter?

When Savanna imagined taking him home to meet her mother, she cringed. She’d have to lie about his profession. He was no match for her. If she introduced him with the truth, he’d appear nowhere near the type of man her parents expected her to end up with. Or her. Savanna didn’t expect to be with a man like Korbin.

But what about her fiancé? And what about the lawyer? They’d both been respectable men. And both had betrayed her. In all his wrong-side-of-the-tracks splendor, Korbin was being honest.

It was that conflict—that confusion—that made her step onto the bus with Korbin.

Chapter 8

D
emarco went to answer the doorbell. It was just after dinner and he and Cora had cuddled close on the couch with a movie. He opened the door, expecting a neighborhood kid selling something, and was surprised to see two men dressed in winter jackets and dress pants.

“Mr. Ricchetti?” the one with blond hair sticking out of his hat asked.

They knew his name? He wished he hadn’t answered the door. “Yes.”

He dropped open a wallet that revealed a police badge. His partner, an older man who wasn’t wearing a hat over his gray hair, did the same.

“I’m Detective Harris and this is Detective Gunderman. We’d like to talk to you about Collette Hamilton. May we come in?”

He could hardly say no. Anxious as to why they wanted to talk to him, he moved aside to let them in. “Sure.”

He led them to the kitchen.

“Demo?” Cora walked into the kitchen. Her natural blond hair hid the fine strands of gray and her blue eyes still sparkled at forty. Seeing the detectives, she asked, “What’s going on?”

He introduced her to the detectives.

“I’m sure you’re aware of your brother’s girlfriend’s murder?” Gunderman said.

“Yes.”

“Would you gentlemen like some coffee?” Cora asked.

“That would be nice, thank you,” Harris said. Their work shift was probably long from over.

While Cora went about brewing a pot, Gunderman took charge of this impromptu visit. Demarco was sure they used the element of surprise to their advantage whenever they could.

“The reason we’re here is we’d like to talk to you about your brother’s relationship with Collette and Korbin. As his twin, you may be able to provide us with some information that could help us find her killer.”

“I don’t see how I can help.”

“You may not be aware that something you know could help. That’s why we’d like to talk to you.”

Detectives were good at this—smoothing things over to get possible witnesses to talk. “Okay.”

His partner slid a recorder onto the table. “Do you mind?”

Demarco shook his head and Harris started the small digital recorder.

“You know Korbin Maguire?” Gunderman asked.

“Yes, through my brother.”

“How well do you know him?”

“Pretty well, but not as well as Damen does.”

“What kind of relationship did he have with Collette?”

“Damen?”

“No, Korbin.”

“I wasn’t aware of any relationship.”

“They weren’t having an affair?”

“Not that I know of.” He supposed it was possible they’d carried on in secret, but he more believed his brother had been paranoid about that. Jealous of Korbin. “They were just friends.”

“Did you see your brother at all the morning after Collette was murdered?”

Boom. There was the real reason they were here. Demarco stared at Gunderman, a moral battle raging within.

Damen hadn’t known he’d seen him and he hadn’t made contact. “No.”

“You don’t seem sure,” Gunderman said, a seasoned detective who probably knew he was lying.

Cora put steaming coffee cups onto the table and turned her eyes to him briefly. He saw her alarm, although she covered it well. Only someone who knew her would have picked up on it. He’d have to answer to her after these two men left.

“I’m wondering why you’re asking me that.”

Gunderman’s eyes met his steadily. “One of your brother’s neighbors said they saw you drive up in front of their house that morning. Around eight-thirty.”

Demarco was careful to keep any reaction from showing, while inside he was frantic for something to say. He frequently parked in front of the neighbor’s house when he went to see his brother, as he had that morning. “I don’t know any of Damen’s neighbors.”

“Well, they recognized you.”

That was possible, since he went to Damen’s house a lot. These detectives must have shown them a picture of him, maybe even his car, and they’d identified him or his car as being the one in front of their house.

“Why were you there?” Gunderman asked. He was so calm, but his mind had to be working with clever speed right now. He was one step ahead of him and Demarco had no way of predicting what else he knew.

Not wanting to walk into another lie, he stuck to the truth. “I needed to talk to him, but I didn’t go in.”

“What did you need to talk to him about?”

“We had an argument the day before. Twins do that.”

“Why didn’t you go in?”

“I wasn’t ready to face him.”

“All right. Why didn’t you tell me that when I asked you if you saw your brother that morning?”

“Because I didn’t see him.” He had, but Damen hadn’t known. Didn’t that count? It was a way to justify another lie.

When the detective stopped questioning him, he realized the neighbor hadn’t seen Damen leave his house, or Demarco follow him. They had only seen him drive up. It had been seconds later that Damen had appeared on his front porch. He stuffed the gun in his pants and got into his car without looking around. He hadn’t thought to worry about being seen, as though stuffing a pistol into his pants were the most natural thing in the world. That was Damen, never thinking first before doing.

He escorted the men to the door. There, Gunderman turned and handed him a business card.

“If you think of anything, give me a call. Day or night.” His gaze bore into Demarco’s.

He closed the door, certain the detective knew he wasn’t telling him everything.

Hearing his wife, he turned to see her lean a shoulder against the white-trimmed doorjamb, folding her arms.

“All right.” He held up both of his hands. “I did see him that morning.”

“Demarco!” Her arms shot down as she pushed off the doorjamb and walked toward him. “You lied to those detectives!” She pointed toward the closed door.

How could he explain? He looked at her, helpless to the turmoil churning in him.

“What happened when you saw him?”

He could not lie to his wife. She was his world. His love. The one person he trusted and had to keep on trusting. But he had to now.

“I was going to go over to his house to talk to him about the way he’s been behaving lately when I saw him come out of his house,” he said. Her eyes shifted back and forth, looking into his as though trying to decide if she believed him.

He didn’t tell her about the gun. She was worried enough.

“If you know something that could help police...” Cora said.

Images of Damen as a kid rushed him. Then Damen in high school. And after. Had there been a progressive decline in positive behavior? Demarco couldn’t get his perception of Damen as a kid out of his head. There were still glimpses of that soul in the man. The good Damen was in there somewhere.

He rubbed his face, moving from the front door to the living room. The movie Cora had chosen still played. Movie night was ruined.

“Do you think he killed Collette?” Cora asked.

“Damen doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“If he killed someone, that doesn’t matter. Do you think he did it?”

“No. I don’t know.” He was so torn up inside.
No, Damen. Why did you have to do it?
Or had he? “I don’t know for sure if he did it or not.” It was desperate hope.

She moved closer, angling her head and forcing him to look at her. “There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

“I don’t want to find out he did it.”

She ran her hands down his arms. “Demarco, you know I love you. I also know how close you are to Damen. But if he killed that girl, you have to tell the police. You have to think about your life. And me. Our life together. I’ve watched you bend over backward for your brother so many times and he never notices. Why do you go out of your way so much for him?”

“He’s my brother.”

“Yeah, but...I get the twin thing...but...”

“He’s never gotten a fair shake. I just need to help him any way I can.” Seeing her eyes go rounder with apprehension, he said, “If he did kill Collette, I’ll get him a lawyer. I won’t cover for him. But if he didn’t kill her...” He had a sick feeling. Damen had killed Collette. How much longer could he deny that?

“Call that detective, Demarco.”

He looked at his wife, imagining what it would be like to turn his own twin brother in to the law. “And tell them what?”

“Whatever you aren’t telling me.”

Just then the phone rang. Glad for the interruption, he went into the kitchen to answer.

“Mr. Demarco Ricchetti?” a man’s voice said.

“Yes.”

“We found your contact information in your brother’s phone. He’s been admitted to the Pagosa Springs Medical Center. He’s stabilized for now, but he’s not conscious.”

Shock paralyzed him for a second. “What happened to him? Is he going to be all right?”

“I’m not sure. They just asked me to call and notify his family.”

How had Damen ended up in a hospital? Had he gone after Korbin? He must have. And Korbin had sent him to the hospital. “What happened to him?” he asked again.

“I’m not authorized to discuss that on the phone, sir. I can only tell you that he’s in serious condition and is stabilized.” The man went on to tell him which room he was in.

“I’m on my way. Will you tell him that if he wakes before I get there?”

“Yes, sir.”

When he hung up, he saw Cora looking concerned in the kitchen entrance.

“It’s Damen. He’s in the hospital. He’s okay but he’s unconscious.” He didn’t explain that it had in all likelihood been Korbin who’d put him there. “I have to drive to Pagosa Springs.”

He watched her struggle with reasons why he should and shouldn’t go. Damen was hurt and needed someone right now. But how much of an alliance should Demarco risk?

She came to him, putting her hand on his upper arm. “Do you want me to go with you?”

Thinking of all the trouble his brother was in, Demarco said, “No.” He leaned down to kiss her mouth. “I’ll go alone.”

“Demo, what if he did kill Collette?”

He smiled softly in an attempt to reassure her. “Damen won’t hurt me.” Recalling how his brother had punched him, he thought twice about that. The strike had broken the skin inside his mouth, but hadn’t left a mark on his face. Cora didn’t know, and he wouldn’t worry her.

“Are you sure?”

“Damen’s gotten himself in some kind of trouble and I don’t want you anywhere near it.”

Her expression relaxed. “Okay.”

Demarco went upstairs to pack, thinking how wrong anyone was who said twins had a special connection. He had no feeling whatsoever that Damen was hurt. He also was beginning not to care. Damen had been making a pretty messy bed for himself, and he was lying in it now.