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.