“Oh, yeah, Jasmine Culhane. It took me a minute to place her,” Hayden said. “A few years ago, she was with a movie company that came to shoot a TV western on our ranch. Hottest woman on the set. I had a crush on her, but I was just a horny teenage kid. Even with her name, how was I to know she was my half sister?”
Sam began to breathe again. “One final question for the record. Did you kill Frank Culhane?”
“Hell no. I’d always wanted to connect with Frank. Darrin was nothing but a little wuss—alawyer, for Pete’s sake. I was the son Frank would have wanted—a champion cowboy. And I proved it last night. But by then it was too late. When Frank died, it broke my heart.”
Walking back to the hotel, Sam mulled over what he’d learned from the interview. Hayden’s words about wantingto meet Frank had the ring of truth. He’d wanted Frank to recognize and accept him. He’d had no reason to wish the man dead. But the late-night phone call to Darrin was another matter. That sounded like something Hayden might do. He could have planned to extort Darrin or even to kill him. But the ghastly accident in the stall had put an end to any intention he might’ve had. Since no crime had been committed, there was no case.
Sam planned to follow up on Hayden’s whereabouts on the night of the murder. If he had an alibi, Sam would forget him and focus on his remaining mental list, with Roper at the top, then Darrin, then Lila, Jasmine, and Mariah as wild cards, and, finally, his latest entry—an unknown, unnamed stranger.
He checked his phone. The sheriff in Wichita Falls had left a voice message. Sam found a quiet corner and returned the call. Maybe the sheriff had learned something about Hayden’s whereabouts on the night of the murder.
“I’m afraid we weren’t much help,” the sheriff said. “We did some asking. But nobody around the ranch or in town remembers seeing Hayden that night. He could’ve been home or out of town. His dad would’ve known. But now …” His voice trailed off. Sam could hear the sound of a police radio in the background. “Do you happen to know what time he’s heading home? Folks ’round here thought a lot of Chet and want to show their support at his funeral. But they don’t even know when to order flowers or bring food around to the house.”
“The Run for a Million will be over Saturday night,” Sam said. “After that, there’ll be no more reason for Hayden to be here. Sorry, but that’s all I know. Can’t you call him?”
“We’ve tried. He’s not picking up. I know his father’s death was a shock. Maybe he’s just in denial.” The sheriff paused, as if weighing what he was about to say. “We’re still not sure why Chet’s plane went down in clear weather.There was no sign of a collision with, say, a drone or even a bird. The plane was new, and Chet wouldn’t go anywhere without filling the tank and checking the oil. The FAA is going over the wreckage now. They’ll let us know what they find.”
“Would it be an imposition for you to keep me in the loop?” Sam asked.
“No problem, if you’ll do us the same favor,” the sheriff said. “I’ve learned not to jump to conclusions. But I figure that since Hayden’s already on your radar, you’ll want to know.”
CHAPTERTWELVE
Sam found Roper in the barn, giving the stallion a rubdown after their workout. For the space of a long breath, Sam stood back, watching as the towel burnished the big roan’s coat to a sheen. At last, he ventured to speak.
“I’m no horse expert, but I’d say that’s one magnificent animal. He deserves to win on looks alone.”
Roper paused and turned his head. “So you’ve found me. I had a feeling my turn would come. Have you made a decision?” He was clearly trying not to sound like a man with his freedom hanging in the balance.
Sam’s gut told him that Roper was innocent. But he knew better than to give the man what might be false hope. That would be cruel. His final conclusion would have to be based on evidence, not intuition.
“The jury’s still out,” he said. “Meanwhile, I’m just doing my job. I spoke with your mother in her room. Her story hasn’t changed. It still matches yours to the letter.”
“My mother doesn’t lie. Neither do I.” He shook out the towel, laid it aside, and picked up a fresh one. “Was Cheyenne with her?”
“She was. She didn’t say much, but I’d spoken with her earlier. Did she tell you what she’d learned about Hayden?”
“Hayden?” Roper raised an eyebrow. “No, but she and I haven’t talked much since we got here. I have the feeling she’s trying not to distract me. What’s this about Hayden?”
“I don’t know Hayden very well,” Sam said. “Tell me, what do you think of him?”
Roper shrugged. “As far as I know, he’s a damned boy scout. Cheyenne seems to like him. Why are you asking me?”
“According to Cheyenne, Hayden claims to be the illegitimate son of Frank Culhane. What’s your take on that?”
Roper looked startled, then went back to rubbing down the horse. “Frank was known to be a womanizer, and Hayden didn’t look much like Chet. So I guess it could be true. What’s that got to do with me?”
“Maybe nothing—unless you think Hayden could have killed Frank.”
Roper’s hand froze in mid-motion. “Why should he do that? Did you ask him?”
“Yes. He denied it, of course—claimed he was hoping to connect with Frank as a son but never got the chance. He also denied being Darrin’s mystery caller. As you say, he’s a boy scout, but only if you choose to believe him.”
“So, why are you telling me this?” Roper asked.
“No special reason. I just wanted to pick your brain. And I’m hoping that, if you happen to see him, you’ll let me know.”
“I might.” A note of mistrust had crept into Roper’s voice. “Have you heard how Simone is doing?” he asked.