“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 ofReal Housewivesblared 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 housewould 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?”