“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.