“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!”
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 memorialservice. 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.