Cory’s Flight
Facing the Music
Suspenseful Secrets – Book 2
Dan Petrosini
Copyright page
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact
Table of Contents
Other Books by Dan
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Other Books by Dan
Other Books by Dan
Luca Mystery Series
Am I the Killer—Book 1
Vanished—Book 2
The Serenity Murder—Book 3
Third Chances—Book 4
A Cold, Hard Case—Book 5
Cop or Killer?—Book 6
Silencing Salter—Book 7
A Killer Missteps—Book 8
Uncertain Stakes—Book 9
The Grandpa Killer—Book 10
Dangerous Revenge—Book 11
Where Are They—Book 12
Suspenseful Secrets
Cory's Dilemma—Book 1
Cory's Flight—Book 2
Other works by Dan Petrosini
The Final Enemy
Complicit Witness
Push Back
Ambition Cliff
Acknowledgements
A special thanks to Julie, Stephanie and Jennifer for their love and support.
Prologue
Lew Stein trudged up the steps of his brownstone near the Brooklyn Heights Promenade. He was coming home from a bar where he’d watched the Knicks beat the spread. Stein couldn’t remember if they’d won or lost, just that they’d beaten the spread. He had bet they wouldn’t. Big. Stein shook his head; he’d make it back tomorrow. From his rooftop he had a good view of Lower Manhattan. He decided to head up there with a brew and roll around the next day’s games.
He put the key in his front door, and the thick, hundred-year-old door swung smoothly on its well-oiled hinges. As he tossed his keys on the foyer settee, a bag went over his head, and he was pinned against the wall. As the bag tightened around his neck, Stein struggled to claw at it. The killer pressed his forearms across Stein’s shoulders, blocking his attempt. Stein sucked in the last remaining air as the killer wrestled him to the floor, putting both knees on Stein’s back.
Stein turned his head, eyeing his prized recliner with the built-in cooler, when his vision went white. He couldn’t make anything out. The white light that people remembered when they came back from near-death was usually their vision going from low blood pressure. But Stein wasn’t having a near-death experience. He had just crashed through its door.
The killer took the bag off Stein’s head, putting it back with the collection under the sink. He rummaged through the rest of the kitchen, disgusted the compulsive gambler hadn’t stashed any cash.
The killer stepped over Stein, cracking open the heavy door. Coast clear, he slipped away.
Chapter One
A yellow cab beeped its horn as Cory dodged traffic on Madison Avenue. He waved, believing the driver recognized him, but the cabbie gave him the finger.
Life was different now, but he didn’t miss the celebrity or the money.
Cory was more grateful. He’d almost self-destructed but had held on during the ride up and during the fall from grace. Surviving felt good, but he knew there was still one thing to conquer as he weaved through the crowded sidewalk.
Cory walked into Mt. Sinai fingering the vial in his pocket. He needed a lift.
Jane Santo, the hospital’s PR woman, met him in the lobby. The pair headed to the children’s wing, walking down a balloon-filled corridor that smelled of flowers.
Santo said, “We’re thrilled you agreed to do this.”
“Anything for the kids. I would’ve done it sooner, but uh, life got in the way.”
“You’re here now, and they’re excited beyond belief.”
“Let’s hope I don’t disappoint them.”
“They love you. I saw you teaching them at Cornell.”
Cory smiled. “That was fun. I wish I could’ve gotten guitars for everyone, but . . .”
“No problem. A donor came through.”
“Good for them. Did you get the numbers on transplants?”
“I was surprised with the numbers on pediatric transplants. The most common are liver and kidney, and we performed twenty last year.”
“That’s super low.”
“We’re having a difficult time with the donor pool.”
“What about waiting times?”
“After three years on the list, about forty percent of patients receive a liver.”
“That’s worse than the national average. What about kidneys?”
“I’m afraid the numbers are lower. After a three-year wait, it’s sixteen percent.”
“That’s terrible. We got to do a lot better than that for our kids.”
“We’re working on it.” Santo pointed to a door. “We’re in h
ere.”
Cory peered in the door’s window. The room was full of kids. In front, children in wheelchairs were chatting, and behind them it looked like a playground. He slipped out of the backpack holding his guitar and handed it to Santo. “I’m going to hit the boy’s room.”
“I’ll hand out the guitars.”
He locked the bathroom door, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. It felt good seeing the kids so animated.
Cory patted the vial and shook his head. Should he go without it? He took the vial out and stared at it. He opened it, considering a quick hit.
He wagged his head, poured the powder down the sink, and threw away the container.
The volume in the room rose when Cory stepped in. “Hey everybody. How we doing today?”
The room erupted. “Super. Who wants to learn to play the guitar?”
A cacophony of we dos sounded as guitars were handed out.
“Fantastic. Now, remember, everyone is going to get a chance today. Some of you I’ll bring up here as an example, but don’t worry, I’ll walk around and help everyone.”
Cory slipped the strap over his shoulder, attaching his Martin. “For the righties in the room, put your left hand on the skinny part. It’s called the neck—”
The door to the room burst open, and four New York City cops rushed in. “Mr. Lupinski, you’re under arrest for murder. Put the guitar down.”
“Me? I didn’t kill anybody.”
An officer unhooked the strap and the other slapped a cuff on his wrist.
“Hey, what are you doing? There’s been a mistake. I didn’t do anything!”
As a cop read him his rights, Santo tried to calm the children.
* * *
“Linda, they arrested me.”
“For what? Don’t tell me it’s for drugs.”
“No, they said I killed Lew Stein.”
“Lew Stein? Your old manager?”
“Yeah.”
“Did . . . did you?”
“Of course not.”
“I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Me either. I need a lawyer, fast.”
“Who we gonna use?”
“I don’t know. Call the label, see if they can help. No, call Tracy instead.”
“Tracy? She used you—”
“She’s got a lot of contacts. The label didn’t give two shits about me when I was on top, now they’ll give me some corporate hack.”
“Okay. When are you getting out?”
“I don’t know. I got to be arraigned and hopefully get out on bail.”
“Where are you?”
“Manhattan Detention Center, downtown, on White Street.”
“The Tombs?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, Cory. I’m scared.”
“It’s going to be all right.”
“What do I tell the kids?”
“Tell them the truth. I didn’t do anything, it’s some kind of mistake.”
“I don’t understand how—”
“They’re telling me I gotta go.”
“Be careful, Cory. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Chapter Two
Cory had one arm chained to the steel table. He put his free hand in front of his mouth. The smell of his breath was enough to quell his hunger. As Cory yawned, the door opened.
Stephen Worth marched in. “Mr. Lupinski. How was your night?”
Worth used the sleeve of his jacket to move the chair out and sat.
Cory shook his head. “Terrible. The place is filled with lunatics. They never stop shouting. It’s worse than in the movies.”
“Let’s see if we can get you out of here.”
“If? I gotta get out, today.”
“We’ll do our best, but ultimately it’s up to the judge.”
“But I’ll get out, right?”
Worth kept his hands in his lap. “I’ve had a discussion with the assistant district attorney handling the case. We debated the bail issue.”
“How much do they want?”
“It’s complicated . . .”
“What’s so difficult? They let crooks out with nothing these days, and I didn’t do anything.”
“You’ve touched upon one of the factors. New York revised its rules, and most accused are released without posting bail. However, many of those released don’t appear in court as promised, and many commit crimes while released.”
“What’s all this got to do with me?”
“There is a lot of pushback from law enforcement and citizen groups over the change, and as a result, they’re being especially hard on violent crimes.”
“I didn’t kill him or anyone.”
“Whether you did or not is not material—”
“Not material? How can that be?”
“This is a bail hearing, not a trial. The proceedings are limited to the threat you pose to the community and the likelihood you would flee.”
“This is crazy. I’m not a threat to anybody.”
“You have to keep in mind the court doesn’t know you or anything about this case. However, you do have a history with the victim.”
“That was long ago. The degenerate gambler ripped me off, stole all my money.”
“We’ll have to discuss that incident in detail.”
“It has nothing to do with anything. How can they say I killed him? I haven’t seen him since then.”
“The DA has witnesses who claims you were at the victim’s house and—”
“That’s bullshit! I wasn’t there.”
Worth threw a palm up. “We’ll have plenty of time during discovery to examine any witness or evidence they have. But at this time, we must concentrate our resources on the bail hearing.”
Cory exhaled. “Okay, okay. What can we do?”
“The DA is recommending a five-million-dollar bail.”
“Five million? That’s crazy. I don’t have that kind of money.”
“We could work with a bail bondsman. They’d post a bond guaranteeing the court the money in full.”
“How much do they want?”
“They usually demand collateral. Maybe a lien on your home or other assets.”
“I don’t have other assets.”
“You do receive royalties from your recordings, correct?”
“Yeah, but I give most of it to a children’s charity to fight cancer.”
“I’ve been made aware of that. It’s a very commendable thing to do, but we’re going to need to access those funds if you’re going to make bail.”
“How can I do that? It’s in a trust.”
“You’re the trustee, I assume.”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“We can enter into a loan agreement with the trust.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’ll borrow the money from the trust and pledge the revenue stream to a bail bondsman. You’ll have to supplement it with other liens, say on your home and any savings if the stream comes up short.”
“Okay, that sounds good, but do the kids still get the money to fight cancer?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“I can’t do that. It’s too important to them and me.”
“If you don’t have the cash or have enough assets to pledge, I don’t see another way to make bail.”
“Can’t we ask the judge? I mean, it’s for the kids. They need it.”
“We can present this unusual effort to achieve bail and perhaps the judge may reduce the amount, but given the environment, I’m not hopeful.”
“How much do you think it could be lowered?”
“A million-dollar reduction would be on the high side.”
“Isn’t there any other way to get me out?”
“Unless the charges are dropped, this is your only opportunity. I recommend you take advantage of it while it’s available.”
“I want out of here, but I’d just hate it if even one kid had to suffer because of it.”
“If you get this behind you, you can resume your philanthropic efforts. Also, mounting a defense will be easier if you’re released.”
“Okay, okay. Get it done. How soon can I get out?”
“These things take time.”
“I can’t stay in here. You gotta get me out.”
“I’ll have the documents drafted and ask the DA to expedite the hearing.”
Chapter Three
Linda threw open the door. “Daddy’s home!”
The apartment was quiet. Cory asked, “Where is everybody?”
“Mrs. Baker is watching Tommy.”
“Ava?”
They went into the family room. Their daughter was sitting in front of the TV.
“Hey, Ava!”
She didn’t move her head. “Hi.”
“Get up, Ava. You haven’t seen your father for five days.”
Cory said, “It’s okay, honey. I’m going to jump in the shower.”
“No, it’s not okay. Say hello to your father.”
Eyes rolling, Ava got on her feet. “How was jail, Dad?”
“Go to your room!”
“It’s okay. Listen, honey, this is all one big mistake. I didn’t hurt that man.”
“That man was your manager.”
“Yes, a long time ago. But that has nothing to do with anything.”
Another eye roll. “The news said you stabbed him a couple of years ago.”
“That’s true. It was wrong to do that, and I’m not making excuses, but believe me, I had nothing to do with whatever happened to him.”
“Then why were you arrested?”
“I really don’t know, but I’m sure the incident you mentioned played a part in it. I kind of get it, but it’s a big mistake, and we’re gonna straighten it out.”
“It’s so embarrassing. I can’t go anywhere without somebody saying something.”
“I’m sorry, honey, I really am. But I’m gonna get it taken care of.”
Ava walked away. “If you say so.”
“What did you say?”
“Forget it, Linda, let her go.”
“You have no idea how difficult Ava’s been.”
“It’s hard on her, plus she’s a teenager. I have to take a shower, or I’ll be late.”
* * *
Cory buttoned his jacket as he emerged from the Lexington Avenue subway station. Leaves and papers swirling, Cory put his head down and walked into the wind.
It’d taken his lawyer too long to get him out of jail, but Stephen Worth seemed like a pro. Cory was pissed he had to tap the trust set up for kids with cancer, but the lawyer had come up with the idea and he was free, for now.
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