Chapter Seven #2
Tolson had moved to One in a Million’s stall. “I remember this big boy,” he said. “He was Frank Culhane’s horse. One of the great ones. So you’ll be riding him in the Run for a Million?”
“That’s the plan. He was supposed to be my backup horse, but now it’ll all be up to him.”
“It’s still hard to believe Frank’s gone,” Tolson said. “And the way he died—even thinking about it gives me chills. Was the bastard who killed him ever caught?”
“Not yet. The FBI is still working on that.” Roper struggled to ignore the gnawing sensation in his stomach.
“Any idea who might have done it?”
“No.” Roper knew better than to venture a guess. He was innocent, but the killer was almost certainly someone he knew, maybe even someone he cared about. And Sam Rafferty was relentless in his quest to close the case.
“I’ll take my leave and let you get back to work,” Tolson said. “If Hayden wants to take a chance on the stallion, he can talk to me. But you’ve already heard what I think.”
“I’ll pass that on. Still, it’s a shame. He’s a beautiful animal. And what happened to him was in no way his fault.”
“It’s almost never the horse’s fault,” Tolson said. “It’s usually the humans who deserve the blame.”
He had turned to go, but paused at the sight of Cheyenne coming down the row, looking preoccupied.
“Any word from Hayden?” Roper asked as she came closer.
“Nothing. I’d hoped he might let us know about his father, but I can understand why we might not hear. I’ll keep checking my phone.”
Buck held back for a moment before he spoke.
“I understand this might be a bad time, Cheyenne, but I was hoping to invite you to lunch. You could ask me anything you want to know about cutting. After that, I won’t be available.
The vet has cleared Chief to perform, so I’ll be busy getting ready for tonight’s competition. ”
“That’s very kind of you,” she replied without hesitation. “I’d be a fool not to say yes.”
A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Your choice. Do you have a favorite place?”
“No. Just something close and simple. Let’s go.”
Roper watched them walk away, chatting but not touching.
He’d sensed a subtle vibration between them.
But Tolson was older, close to Roper’s own age, with a face weathered by some hard living.
Roper knew the signs. Hayden would be a better match for her.
But Cheyenne was very much her own woman.
He could only hope she’d make the right choices.
He moved to the gate of Fire Dance’s stall. The stallion laid his ears back, snorted, and lunged. His eyes reflected a nameless terror that no one could ease.
Buck Tolson’s chilling account of the stable hand’s death was a warning. But if anything could help Fire Dance, Roper vowed, he would move heaven and earth to see it done.
Jasmine’s shaking hand hovered over the phone. She was no saint, but she had a conscience. She couldn’t look the other way while her brother set a deadly trap for Lila Culhane. And she couldn’t be part of his plan.
But if she defied Darrin, and if he used those photos to betray her secret love, Sam’s life would be ruined.
She could wait—simply do nothing—or even leave town. But that wouldn’t stop Darrin and Simone. She could try to call her mother. But Madeleine had insisted on going no contact for Jasmine’s protection. And even if Jasmine could call her, Madeleine hated Lila and would probably side with her son.
There was only one person Jasmine could call for help.
Braced for the worst, she entered Sam’s number on the hotel phone. He answered on the first ring and listened without comment as she poured out her story. By the end of it, she was fighting tears.
“I don’t know what to do, Sam. My brother is a terrible person, and his wife is even worse. I would do anything to stop them. But none of this is your fault. I can’t let them destroy your future because of me.”
Sam spoke at last. “Let me be the judge of that, Jasmine. Nobody forced me to fall in love with you. That’s something I wouldn’t change for the world. As for the rest, you need to step back and let me do my job. Darrin’s threat to use those photos is just that—a threat. I’ll deal with it.”
“But what about Lila? She’s got to be protected.”
“That’s my job, too. I’ll handle it. But right now, for the record, I need to ask you some questions—the same questions a prosecutor might ask you. I’ll be recording them for your protection and mine. Answer them as if you were under oath.”
“Sam, what on earth are you up to?”
“Just do it. Here’s the first one. Jasmine, did you kill your father, Frank Culhane, or in any way contribute to his murder?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Jasmine became aware that she was trembling.
“Second question. Do you believe your brother, Darrin Culhane, could have killed your father?”
Jasmine hesitated, then answered, “No. Not the way my father was killed. As I told you before, Darrin doesn’t have the guts to do that.”
“And his wife, Simone?”
“No. She’s petite. She doesn’t have the height or the physical strength. And she wouldn’t have risked her pregnancy in a struggle.”
He asked her similar questions about Lila, Roper, and her mother. To these, she gave the same reply: “I don’t know.”
“Sam, I don’t understand this,” she said as he finished. “I haven’t told you anything you don’t already know.”
“This isn’t for me,” he said. “It’s for the case file, a record that you’ve been interviewed—as I’ve already interviewed others. It’s also a cover in case we’re seen together, or in case your brother decides to show those photos.”
“Fine. But Lila’s still in danger.”
“I’ll talk to her, have her moved to another room, and make sure she doesn’t go out alone.
And you’re to stay out of this. Better yet, leave.
Go back to California or wherever you feel at home until this mess is cleared up.
One way or another, it won’t be much longer.
I’ll call you from Abilene, and we can decide what to do next. ”
“So I’ve come all this way for a one-night stand?”
“We can’t be together here, Jasmine. It’s too risky. And I’ve got a job to do.”
Jasmine felt her frustration rising. “So I’m to pack my bags, toddle home like a good little girl, and wait for my lord and master to summon me?
Listen and listen good! You don’t own me, Sam Rafferty, and you never will!
I’ll come and go as I please. If you want me back, I’ll think about it.
But never assume you can give me orders! ”
Fighting tears, she slammed the receiver down with a bang. Fine. She would stay out of Sam’s way—and Darrin’s too. They wouldn’t even have to know she was here. It would be smart to change rooms. But she wasn’t about to leave Las Vegas—not now, when there was so much going on.
When Darrin returned to the room, he found Simone on the bed, propped up by pillows, with a bowl of room-service chocolate ice cream in her lap. An episode of Real Housewives blared from the wall-mounted TV.
Darrin picked up the remote from the nightstand and clicked the TV off. Simone looked up at him. “Well?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He sank onto the edge of the bed. “Jasmine hasn’t called, and she’s not answering her phone. When I checked her room, it was vacant. She was gone.”
“You’re sure?”
“Hell, yes, I’m sure. I looked all over the hotel. The front desk wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“Well, there you go,” Simone said. “You should’ve known the sneaky bitch couldn’t be trusted.”
“At least we’ve got those photos,” Darrin said.
“And what good are they now?” Simone’s tongue swirled the ice cream from the spoon. “Now that she’s gone, who’s going to give a damn about two people having breakfast together? Too bad we didn’t get a shot of them in bed.”
“Our mistake was involving Jasmine in the first place,” Darrin said. “I haven’t told you everything. That room number Mariah gave us. The room’s empty. Lila and her daughter were gone.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I’m guessing they were warned by our FBI friend, who got word of our plan from Jasmine.”
“Well, whose fault was that?” Simone demanded. “If you hadn’t come up with the idea of using your sister—”
“Shut up! The photos were your idea. And look at you—lying there stuffing your face and watching crap on TV while I do all the legwork. You’re supposed to be helping me.”
“Can I help it if my feet are too swollen for my shoes?” Simone put the empty ice-cream bowl on the nightstand.
“If you’d had the brains and ambition to act, the house would be ours by now.
You may’ve killed your father, but you didn’t follow through on the house and ranch.
Couldn’t you, just once, do your job as a man? ”
“Wait!” Darrin reeled as if he’d been punched. “Are you saying I killed my father?”
“You were gone long enough, and at the right time. I lied to protect you, Darrin. I lied to the FBI.”
“But I didn’t kill him!” Darrin’s heart battered his ribs like a caged animal.
“I left the house after we had that big fight. I drove around looking for someplace to buy a beer, but everything was closed, even Jackalope’s.
So I came home and went to sleep on the couch.
I didn’t hear about Dad until the police called the next morning.
I can’t believe you think I’d murder my own father! ”
“Did you?”
“No. I swear to God, I didn’t. Do you believe me now?”
“I guess.” She shrugged. “I might’ve respected you more if you had. I’ve long since discovered that I married a weakling. At least that might have changed my mind.”
“Damn you to hell, woman!” Darrin’s self-control snapped. In the next instant, he was on her, his weight holding her down, his hands tightening around her throat as he spoke through clenched teeth. “After all I’ve done for you …”
“Darrin …” She was fighting to breathe. “The baby … the baby!”