With a muttered curse, he opened his arms and drew her fiercely close. As she trembled against him, his terrors tumbled into the open—the false accusations, the wrong verdict, the grim, cold lifetime behind bars, away from this woman he loved more than his life.
“I meant what I told you,” he said. “If I’m arrested, stay away. If I’m convicted, forget me and live your life. That’s the best thing you can do for me.”
She clung to him for a moment, then pushed away, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “I’m a big girl,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I have to do as you say. Whatever happens, when the time comes, there’s just one thing you can count on, Roper McKenna. I will do whatever I damn well please.”
With that, she went back to braiding the stallion’s mane. Her back was ramrod straight, her chin thrust at a stubborn angle. But from where he stood, Roper could see the single silent tear that trickled down her cheek.
Sam treated himself to more coffee and a Danish in the restaurant. While he waited to sign for the meal, he checked his phone. He’d made several calls to the sheriff in Wichita Falls. Each time, he’d left a follow-up message related to the question of Hayden Barr’s alibi and his background. So far, the messages had gone unanswered.
Most likely, the sheriff had more pressing matters on hishands, like the investigation of Chet Barr’s fatal plane crash. Or maybe there was nothing new to report. At least it might be helpful to know whether Hayden had flown home or stayed here in Las Vegas. Sam had kept his eyes open, but he hadn’t seen Hayden since yesterday.
Several questions troubled Sam. Why hadn’t Hayden flown directly home after Chet’s death—or at least after winning the cutting competition? Was it Hayden who’d made the mysterious call to Darrin, or could it have been someone else? And where had Hayden been when Darrin was killed by the horse?
Hayden had shown a puzzling lack of grief over Chet’s death, and he’d barely acknowledged the pregnant fiancée who’d perished with him. Sam was aware that Chet wasn’t Hayden’s natural father. Still …
But what was the use of letting his mind wander in circles when the results of the DNA test could solve his case? He was here to do one job. And distraction was only a waste of time and energy.
He signed for the breakfast and wandered back through the lobby. The casino was already coming to life, the slots dinging, the wheels spinning. Country music blasted from speakers in the background. He’d long since grown tired of hearing that music everywhere. There were times, like now, when he would give anything for some good New Orleans jazz.
Sam wandered outside for some quiet. The parking lot was already full. The Run for a Million would be starting at 6:30, preceded by a new competition. The Race to the Slide, with its $70,000 prize for the fastest and longest slide to a stop, was scheduled for 5:00. By the time the pre-show started at 6:00, the main arena would be filled with cheering fans.
Spotting Hayden in the crowd wouldn’t be easy, butSam would keep his eyes open. Roper was the prime suspect in Frank’s murder. But the lab would also have a sample of Frank’s DNA. If the trace in the hypodermic was a Culhane family match, the suspects would be narrowed down to three—Darrin, Jasmine, and, by elimination, Hayden, which would mean more testing for a final result. Sam’s money would be on Darrin—a relief to everyone concerned.
The blazing sun, reflecting off the cars, was making Sam’s migraine worse. He turned around and went back into the hotel. The urge to call Jasmine was a constant burning. By now, he couldn’t even be sure where she was. She could have caught an early plane back to California. She could have been caught up in Darrin’s funeral arrangements. Or she could still be in her room at the Excalibur, passing the time while she waited for her Sunday flight.
Sam had booked his own flight back to Abilene for late the same day. He had promised to be there on Monday morning so Nick could start his cancer treatments. By then, if he hadn’t arrested Frank’s killer, the case would either be closed or given to another agent. When, or even whether, he would see Jasmine again remained to be seen.
He checked his phone again. No calls. With a curse of frustration, he pushed the elevator button and headed back to his room. For now, he was up against a wall. There was nothing to do but wait.
Sunlight glittered on the surface of the L-shaped swimming pool, one of several in the Excalibur’s vast outdoor complex. The pool was surrounded by desert palm trees and separated from the outside world by a high wall. Tourist kids splashed in the shallows and dived into the deep end, while parents watched from the sidelines, their well-oiled bodies basking in the midday heat.
Jasmine reclined in a lounge chair, her face protected by sunglasses and shaded by a floppy-brimmed hat. Her long, golden legs lay exposed to the sun, displaying toenails that had been painted a jewel-like turquoise in the hotel beauty salon.
Checking the time on her phone, she sighed. Coming here to be with Sam had been a disastrous mistake. She could hardly wait to climb onto that plane tomorrow and fly back to California.
She’d had such hopes, but after a wonderful reunion the first night, everything had gone downhill. Sam couldn’t be with her—not only because he was working but because he couldn’t be seen with anyone who might be a suspect in her father’s murder. Then Darrin and Simone had seen them and tried to blackmail her. And then—
Despite the blistering heat, a shudder passed through her body. She’d never gotten along with her brother. But she’d never wanted him dead. And now, with Sam out of touch, nobody was telling her anything. She didn’t even know when and where the funeral service would be held or where Darrin would be buried. If Simone was in charge, she might not even be invited.
One person might know what was going on—Mariah usually had her ear to the ground. And Jasmine had always looked on her as an ally. Scolding herself for not having thought of it sooner, she took her phone from her purse and scrolled to the house number at the Culhane ranch.
“Hello, honey.” The voice of the Culhanes’ longtime cook and housekeeper reached out to her over the phone like a warm hug. “I was hoping to hear from you. You must be devastated about your brother—especially that awful way he died. Have you been able to reach your mother?”
“Mother’s gone underground, if she’s even in the country. She won’t know about Darrin unless she sees the story in the news. I keep hoping to hear from her, but so far, there’s been nothing.”
“Well, don’t you worry. Your mother’s a smart woman. She can take care of herself. You’ll hear from her when she feels safe to make contact.”
“You were always a good friend to her, Mariah.”
“Well, she and your dad always took good care of me. I miss them both. And you.” Mariah sounded as if she might be wiping away tears. “Now, is there anything I can do for you?”
“I just need to know about Darrin’s funeral,” Jasmine said. “I suppose I should be there, out of courtesy to Simone.”
“There isn’t going to be a funeral,” Mariah said. “Simone was too distraught for a funeral—she was right there when he was killed, you know. She had his remains cremated and sent to her in Dallas. Lord knows what she plans to do with them. Put them on the mantel maybe, the poor thing. At least the baby seems to be all right. Her mother—that’s who I talked to—says it’s a boy. Darrin never knew. He would have been so pleased.”
“That’s a shame. I suppose most of his estate will go to Simone and the baby. That’s no problem for me. But some things will need to be sorted out. Does Simone still want to fight Lila for the house?”
Mariah sighed. “I don’t think she’s got the energy for it. Now that Darrin is gone, she might be happier someplace close to her family. Too bad. I would’ve enjoyed helping raise a little Culhane boy here. Lila will probably flood the place with those trashy McKennas. I made it clear that if she did, I wouldn’t be staying on. I’ve got my standards.”