Chapter Seven #3
He let her go and rolled off her. They lay side by side on the bed, breathing hard.
Darrin had been angry enough to kill her.
But he hadn’t and wouldn’t—not just because of the baby, but because for now, at least, he needed Simone—perhaps even more than she needed him.
They were like two wild animals, hissing and clawing, but depending on each other for survival.
Whatever was to be done, they would do it together.
For safety, Gemma and her mother had been moved from their comfortable suite on the fifteenth floor to the only vacant quarters available—a bargain-rate room with two single beds and a closet-sized bath.
Sliding doors opened onto a tiny balcony with a view of the parking lot far below.
The AC was noisy, and the couple in the next room through the wall had what sounded like a toddler in tantrum mode.
Gemma wasn’t usually one to complain, but the move struck her as an excess of caution. “If your FBI friend wanted to protect you, why didn’t he just post a guard outside our door?” she asked. “We could’ve stayed in that nice room. Instead, here we are in this little cracker box.”
“Sam is just being careful—and if it’s any consolation, he says his room is no bigger than this one.
” Lila was sitting on the bed with her feet up, a book lying facedown next to her.
Even dressed in leggings and a tee, with no makeup and her hair caught back in a scrunchie, she possessed a beauty that her daughter would never have.
Not that Gemma was envious. So far in this life, Lila’s beauty had mostly brought her trouble.
“You heard what he said,” Lila continued.
“There’ve been one, possibly two attempts on my life.
He has a good idea who’s responsible, and so do I.
But so far there’s been no proof. He’ll be using the hotel security cameras to watch that other room.
If they show up there, he’ll have them. That’s the real reason we’re here—so he can set the trap. ”
“I thought he was looking for the person who killed Frank.”
“He is. This is related.”
“And what about Roper? Does he know you’re here?” Gemma had met Lila’s horse trainer briefly at Frank’s memorial service. She knew about their relationship, but she was far from ready to trust a virile, ambitious man around her vulnerable mother.
“Roper knows we’ve moved. But we won’t be seeing each other until Saturday night, after the Run for a Million. He’ll be focused on the stallion—and he’ll have family here. His mother and one brother will be coming in tomorrow. And his sister’s already with him.”
“Have you met his family?”
“No. I mean, the McKennas are neighbors, but we don’t socialize with them.
I wouldn’t have minded. Heaven knows, I don’t put myself above anybody.
But Frank was adamant about that. And Mariah is even more insistent.
She’s threatened to quit if a McKenna sets foot in the house.
She calls them trash. She’d like nothing better than to see me out of the house and Roper in jail for Frank’s murder. ”
“You seem so sure he’s innocent. What if he’s guilty?”
“I know him, Gemma. Roper isn’t a killer. He respected Frank. He liked his job.”
When Gemma didn’t answer, Lila picked up her book as if dismissing the subject.
“I can tell that you need some time out. Nobody knows we’re here.
Sam even checked us out of the old room and re-registered us here under fake names.
So why don’t you get out for a while? Stretch your legs.
Explore the shops. Get us some snacks. I feel fine, and I’m not going anywhere. ”
“You’re sure?” Gemma had begun to feel like a caged animal in the small room. Sam had told her to stay put, but the idea of a break was too tempting to resist.
“I won’t be long,” she said. “Maybe half an hour.”
“Take more time if you like. Just call me if you’re going to be longer than that. And check around before you come back to make sure nobody’s watching you.”
“Don’t worry, I know who to look for.” Gemma fluffed her short hair, checked her scant makeup, and tucked her shirttail in her slacks.
“Call me if you need anything, Mom,” she said.
“I’ll be fine. Have fun.”
Lila’s words faded as Gemma breezed out the door.
In her time as a busy student nurse, fun had lost its meaning.
All she meant to do now was stretch her legs, explore a little, and pick up some snacks for her and her mother to enjoy while they watched tonight’s Cutting Horse Challenge on closed-circuit TV.
Stepping out of the elevator on the main floor, she came face-to-face with a life-sized poster advertising a nearby stage show.
A spectacular showgirl in a scanty costume and elaborate plumed headdress smiled and posed against a glittering backdrop.
That showgirl could have been Lila a dozen years ago—a single mother supporting her child any way she could.
Desperate to save that child, she’d broken up Frank Culhane’s contentious marriage.
Frank’s money had paid for ten-year-old Gemma’s lifesaving heart surgery.
Lila had repaid him with eleven years of wifely devotion.
But his first family, to this very day, had never forgiven the woman who’d displaced them.
“I see her, Darrin!” Simone, dressed as a blackjack dealer in a magenta satin shirt, black pants, sunglasses, and a black visor, spoke into her phone. “She just stepped out of the elevator. It looks like she’s going toward the casino.”
“Are you sure it’s Gemma?” Darrin, in cowboy clothes and a red MAGA cap, spoke from the stairwell below the floor where Mariah had told them Lila would be staying.
“It’s her, all right,” Simone answered. “I’d know your drab little stepsister anywhere.”
“Keep an eye on her. Let me know if she heads back to the elevator. Whatever happens, don’t let her recognize you.”
“I’m not stupid, Darrin.”
The two of them had been keeping watch for several hours, hoping to get Lila alone. The next step of the plan would be up to Darrin. He had never killed anyone before. His hands perspired inside his latex gloves at the thought of what he might have to do.
The trick would be to make Lila’s death look like an accident.
He’d watched enough crime drama on TV to know that wouldn’t be easy.
That was why he had the gloves and a mask in his pocket, and a piece of pipe under his leather vest. He could push her off the balcony, although he might have to knock her out first. He could even slice her wrists to make her death look like suicide.
Or shove her head against the bathroom sink to make it appear that she’d struck it when she passed out.
But the balcony was by far the best option.
Darrin was no Superman. Weak as Lila would be from that snakebite, he should be able to overpower her. But, as a backup, he carried a chloroform-soaked rag zipped into a plastic bag. The chloroform, which might be detectable in her lungs, was a last resort, but he couldn’t be too careful.
As he came out of the stairwell onto the floor, a horrific thought struck him. If Jasmine had talked to her lover, this could be a trap. Lila might not even be there. He could open the numbered door to find the FBI waiting for him.
A woman with a cleaning cart was coming down the hall toward him. She appeared to be about forty, tired-looking, maybe with a family at home. She could probably use a little something extra.
Slipping a fifty-dollar bill out of his wallet, he held it up where she could see it. “I’ll give you this,” he said, “if you’ll knock on the door of room 1545 and wait until it opens.”
The woman hesitated. She looked up and down the hall, then approached Darrin and snatched the bill with an outstretched hand. After tucking it into her pocket, she moved down the hall to the door and tapped politely.
“Louder! Damn it,” Darrin snapped, his nerves crackling like frayed wires.
The woman pounded on the door. Seconds passed. There was no response.
“You’ve got a passkey,” Darrin said. “Open it.”
She shook her head. “If I do that for you, I could lose my job.”
Darrin held out more bills. “Just open it.”
After a nervous glance around, she grabbed the cash from his hand and used her key. Keeping clear of the security camera, Darrin watched the door swing open.
The room was vacant—the beds neatly made, every surface swept and wiped clean, with no sign of luggage or other possessions. As the woman fled down the hall, Darrin studied the number he’d written down. It was the number Mariah had given him.
Stepping back into the stairwell, he called Simone on his cell phone. “This was a trap, but I knew better than to spring it,” he said. “Can you still see Gemma?”
“She’s in plain sight, watching people play the slots.”
“Follow her wherever she goes,” Darrin said. “Don’t take your eyes off her for a second. If you stay sharp, she’ll lead us to her mother.”