Desperate Girls (Wolfe Security #1)(47)

“He thought everyone was against him. The prosecutors were crooked. The detectives were liars. The people at his work—”

“The cable company?”

“Yeah, they were in on it, too, according to Corby. Every person, every step of the way, was part of some big conspiracy to put him away for murders he didn’t commit. Like I said, the guy was on a rant. And I’m no psychologist or anything, but he seemed pretty paranoid.”

“And did you find him . . . credible?”

“I found him intelligent,” the reporter said. “But that’s not the same as credible. I mean, there was the blood on his boot. There was the necklace, the media clips in his house. I’m sure you’re familiar with all the evidence against him. It was really overwhelming. The two lead lawyers—Ballard and Holloran—they put on a convincing case.”

Lindsey tensed at the mention of Brynn. It was the first time she’d heard Brynn referred to as one of the lead lawyers. Jennifer Ballard was the true lead, but apparently some people had the impression they played an equal role. Maybe Corby thought so, too.

“Back to your conversations with Corby,” she said. “Did he ever mention any friends?”

“He didn’t have any.”

“Coworkers he talked about by name? A distant relative?”

“No.”

“Maybe an ex-girlfriend?”

“No.” A pause. “Did you ever see him in person?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Well, he’s got this stone-cold killer thing going on. I could never figure out whether it was a persona or his real personality, but I’ll tell you, it makes your skin crawl. He has this way of staring at you when you’re talking to him. Or even when you’re not talking to him. Trust me, he’s not someone you ever want to meet.”

“And you only met with him that one time?”

“That’s right. I hope to never see him again. The day I heard he got out, I went and bought myself a handgun, and I’ve had it with me ever since.”

“You believe Corby is a threat to your safety?”

“Hell, yeah. He’s on a revenge quest. He’s a threat to anyone he wants.”





LINDSEY LEARY arrived Friday morning at 7:45 sharp, and Erik tapped the timer on his watch as he let her into Brynn’s apartment.

“One sec,” he said, leaving her by the door. The detective looked impatient. She’d tried to meet yesterday, but Brynn had canceled to work on her cross-examinations. Lindsey had insisted on seeing Brynn this morning before court.

Erik rapped his knuckles on her door.

“She’s here. You ready?”

“Yes!” came the muffled reply.

Her voice sounded rushed, and Erik’s suspicions were confirmed when Brynn stepped out of her bedroom in a pinstriped skirt, heels, and an oversize Astros jersey. She brushed past Erik and ducked into the guest room.

“Be right with you, Lindsey!”

Erik propped his shoulder against the door and watched as Brynn frantically combed through the closet. She grabbed a silky gray blouse on a hanger. “Damn it. What time is it?”

“Seven forty-eight.”

Brynn billowed past him with the blouse. “Hey, Lindsey. Want some coffee?”

“I’m good.” The detective looked Brynn up and down, probably wondering about her fashion statement. Lindsey wore practical flat shoes and another one of those dark pantsuits that concealed her sidearm.

“I have to steam while we talk,” Brynn said. “I need to be in court in forty minutes.”

Brynn grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. She plugged in the handheld steamer on the counter and hung the shirt from a cabinet knob.

“This shouldn’t take long.” Lindsey pulled out a bar stool. “I had something to ask you and something to tell you.”

“Ask away.”

Lindsey shot a look at Erik. She might have preferred to talk to Brynn in private, but he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I talked to one of those reporters you mentioned who interviewed Corby in prison.”

“Oh, yeah?” Brynn ran the steamer over the shirt. “Mason or Dewitt?”

“Alec Mason.”

“Any good leads?”

“Not on Corby’s whereabouts, no.” Lindsey darted a glance at Erik. “But he said something else I’ve been working on. It had to do with Corby’s prosecution.”

“What about it?”

“Well, he told me Corby was on a rant. Very paranoid and resentful about all the forces conspiring to make him look guilty for something he didn’t do. He claimed he was framed for the crime.”

“Damn, I wish I had a dollar for every defendant who’s told me that exact same thing.”

“Yeah, I know. But I started looking into it, and I noticed a lot of the key evidence presented in Corby’s trial was circumstantial.”

Brynn whirled around. “You can’t be serious.” She laughed. “You actually believe that Corby was framed?”

“No, not at all. But this reporter said Corby was adamant that the detectives were liars, et cetera, and it occurred to me that Corby went after McGowan first, as soon as he got out of prison.”