Chapter Fifteen #2
“So there you are. Clever girl. But you might as well give up and come out. You’re not going anywhere.”
Jasmine stayed silent. He might have found her hiding place, but he still had to get her out.
A childhood story surfaced in her mind—the chuckwalla, a desert lizard that could escape enemies by hiding in a rock crack and inflating its body to fit so tightly that a predator couldn’t pull it out.
What a time to remember such a thing. But maybe that lizard had something to teach her.
The phone in her purse rang again. Sam’s voice. Clearer this time. “I know what we agreed on, but please call me, Jasmine. I just need to know you’re okay.”
As the call ended, Jasmine’s lips formed his name.
It was dark under the bed. The light that fell on Hayden’s face cast his features into a grotesque mask of light and shadow.
She’d surmised earlier that he might be mentally ill.
But maybe he was more than that. Maybe he was a monster.
Whatever he was, she wouldn’t submit to her fate.
If she was going to die, she would die fighting.
Worried, Sam stared down at his phone. Jasmine was known to be stubborn. He wouldn’t put it past her to ignore his calls. But what if she was in some kind of trouble?
The phone vibrated in his hand. His pulse quickened. But the caller wasn’t Jasmine or Nick. It was the sheriff.
“I’ve been hoping you’d find Hayden for us,” he said. “Any luck?”
“I haven’t seen him,” Sam said. “Why? Has something else happened?”
“We just got the report from the FAA. They finished their investigation of the plane wreckage. They found a leak in the fuel line. The damage was done with sulfuric acid. The stuff eats through aluminum like a rat through cheese. Have you heard of that?”
“I have.” Sam remembered Lila’s car wreck a few weeks ago at the ranch.
The fuel line leakage had been timed to happen on the freeway.
Only a swerve to avoid a goat on a back road had caused a rollover and saved her from a much worse accident.
The crime had been traced to Darrin, but his mother’s intercession had saved him from arrest.
“The leak wouldn’t have started till the plane was in the air,” the sheriff said. “We’re looking at a murder case now. And Hayden’s our chief suspect—hell, our only suspect. We’ve got a manhunt on our hands. If you see him, take him into custody and call me.”
Sam ended the call, his thoughts churning.
Hayden, it appeared, had wanted his full inheritance badly enough to kill for it.
He must have wanted the Culhane inheritance, too.
Killing Frank didn’t fit the timing, but he could have done it.
Next was Darrin. Hayden could have set his half brother up for murder in the barn.
But Darrin’s tragic death had done the deed for him.
That left only one living blood Culhane relative …
Jasmine.
Jasmine kept silent as Hayden cursed her from the side of the bed.
His shoulders were too bulky to fit under the frame.
But if he flattened himself face down on the floor, he might be able to reach her with an arm.
Sooner or later he would think of that. And Hayden was strong.
If he could get a grip and pull her out, he would probably be angry enough to beat the life out of her.
“Come on out, you little bitch,” he snarled. “If I have to drag you out, you’ll pay for it! When I’m through with you, that pretty face will look like roadkill!”
Jasmine’s silence defied him to try. She lay taut and waiting like a trapped animal. Whatever she did next would depend on him.
From somewhere in the room, Hayden’s phone rang.
He glanced up but didn’t try to answer it.
“Maybe that’s your boyfriend,” he said to Jasmine.
“I’ll let it ring for now. He’ll find you soon enough.
By then, I’ll be gone without a trace. He’ll never know you didn’t kill yourself.
I was planning to wait, but if he’s onto us, it’ll have to happen soon. ”
Jasmine didn’t reply. Silence was her only weapon.
“Say something, damn it!” he exploded. “Beg for your life!” He paused, the TV the only sound in the room. “If I have to come after you, you’ll be sorry!”
As he flattened himself on the floor, Jasmine prepared to fight for her life. She waited as his arm slid under the bed, close enough to reach her. His fingers groped for something to hold onto—her shoulder, her face.
Raising her head a fraction of an inch, she sank her teeth into the fleshy part of his hand between the thumb and forefinger.
He yowled as she bit down with the strength of desperation, locking her jaws so hard that he couldn’t pull away.
She tasted the wet saltiness of blood, tasted flesh.
He screamed and struggled, but only when Jasmine’s strength began to fail did she let him go.
He staggered to his feet. A trail of blood drizzled from his hand to soak into the carpet.
He reeled for a moment. Then, with a bellow of fury, he gripped the side of the metal bed frame, lifted it, and flipped the entire bed onto its side, leaving her exposed on the floor.
He loomed over her, his face contorted in rage and his right hand dripping blood. He stanched it with the hem of his shirt. “You asked for it, you she-devil,” he muttered. “Get ready to die.”
Hiding her fear, she met his gaze. “You might want to make new plans, Little Brother. You thought you were going to get away with murder. But you’ve lost. Your blood is in the carpet and on the bed, and even on me.
Whether you kill me or not, as soon as your DNA is identified, you’ll be as good as behind bars. ”
His features froze as the truth struck home. “As I see it, you’ve got a choice,” she continued. “You can kill me and be sentenced for murder, or you can leave me alive and do time for kidnapping and assault.”
His expression changed, grew more confident. “You think you know me,” he said. “You won’t feel so damn smart when I tell you that I’ve got nothing to lose.”
“Nothing to lose?” She was momentarily stunned. “Are you telling me you’ve killed others?”
His grin widened. “I could kill you for the pleasure of it and be no worse off.”
“Did you kill my father?”
“He was my father, too. But no, I didn’t kill him, though maybe I should have. As I told you, when I called him and said I was his son, he wouldn’t even talk to me. Our father wasn’t a nice man, big sister. But I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”
“You say you’ve nothing to lose. But you’ve nothing to gain, either. What’s the point of killing me now? You can’t live a normal life anymore. You’ll either be on the run or in prison.”
“I could kill you for this.” He held up his hand, still oozing blood from the shirt hem that wrapped it. “But since you’re my sister, I’ll give you an even chance before I go.”
Bending, he scooped her off the floor in his arms, carried her into the bathroom, and laid her down, still bound hand and foot, in the luxury-sized bathtub.
After closing the drain, which was at her feet, he turned the cold water spigot on full force.
Jasmine gasped as the icy stream touched her skin.
She struggled to sit, but the tub’s enameled surface was slick, and she couldn’t use her hands to push herself up.
Hayden looked down at her and grinned. “Good luck, Big Sis. Try not to drown.”
Then he turned and left, with the water running and the TV blaring full volume in the other room. She heard the door to the hallway open, close, and lock. She was alone.
Sam had made repeated calls to Jasmine’s phone and to the number the sheriff had given him for Hayden.
When no one answered, he tried to tell himself there was nothing to worry about.
Jasmine could be in the hotel pool or at dinner.
Maybe she’d caught an early flight, or maybe she was still angry with him.
He needed to be here, watching the arena and waiting for Nick’s phone call. But the silence had begun to eat at him. Something was wrong.
Overcome by worry, he pocketed his phone and left the arena. He would still be able to get Nick’s call, and the main event hadn’t started yet. With luck, he shouldn’t be gone more than fifteen or twenty minutes.
The Excalibur wasn’t far, but a cab would be faster than walking. He caught one outside and, minutes later, was let off at the Excalibur’s main entrance.
At the desk, he showed his FBI credentials and learned from the clerk that Jasmine was still registered at the hotel.
“Has anyone seen her or talked with her today?” he demanded.
“I couldn’t say. We’ve got our hands full with the overflow from South Point.”
“Try calling her room on the house phone.”
“Certainly.” The clerk punched in the number. Sam heard several rings, but there was no answer. “We could send someone up to check.”
“I’ll go. Just give me a key card.”
Card in hand, Sam raced to the elevator.
The water was freezing cold. It was still streaming out of the faucet, getting deeper in the tub by the minute.
Soon it would be over Jasmine’s head. She’d tried pushing herself up to a sitting position, but her hands were trapped behind her, and her bound feet could find no purchase on the tub’s slippery bottom.
The spigot was just above the tub, but the levered flow control and another lever for the drain plug were located on the tile wall above the tub, too high for her to reach.
How long had she been here? Time had lost its meaning. She only knew that her body was too numb to feel cold or pain, and she could no longer control her chattering teeth.