“At least you could tell me what’s going on,” she said. “Why am I here? What have I ever done to hurt you?”
“Nothing,” he said. “You’re probably a good person. Your only crime is being in my way.” He crossed his legs, leaning back in the chair. “I’ll tell you what. We’ve got plenty of time. For entertainment’s sake, ask me anything you want. I’ll answer truthfully. I’ve got nothing to hide. All right?”
“I need the bathroom first. Can you help me up for that?”
He shook his head, the grin never leaving his face. “Sorry, no. Just cross your legs. First question?”
Fine. She would play his wretched game while she triedto figure out an escape. “Here goes,” she said. “Are you really Frank Culhane’s son?”
“Yes. My mother didn’t lie, Neither does my mirror. I just need the DNA for legal proof.”
“You can have my DNA if you’ll let me go.”
“It’s too late for that,” he said. “You already know too much. Besides, I’ve already got your DNA. I took a sample while you were out. Next question.”
“Did my father know about you?”
“My mother claimed to have told him. But that’s all I know. We never heard from him.”
“So you never met him?”
“I wanted to. I even called him once and asked to get together. He said that if every bastard who claimed to be his showed up on his doorstep he’d have himself an army. He hung up, and I never called back.”
Jasmine could sense the pain of rejection in his words. “So, did you kill him?” she asked.
“No. I swear to God I didn’t. It might’ve crossed my mind. But I had nothing to gain by it. I guess somebody else had a different idea.”
“How did you feel when you heard he was dead?”
“Sad. Sorry for what I’d missed.” Pausing, he looked as if he had more to say. But he simply shrugged. “Haven’t you about run out of questions?”
“Just one more. Chet Barr, the father who raised you, is a respected man with, as far as I understand, a fortune in land, cattle, and fine horses. You’re his heir. Isn’t that enough? Why would you even care about connecting with your birth father’s family?”
Hayden was silent. Jasmine sensed that she’d struck a nerve—the reason he was here, now, preparing to commit an unspeakable crime.
“There’s a lot you don’t know,” he said. “My legalfather—Chet—was just killed in a private plane crash. When I leave here, I’ll be going home to his funeral. I’ll inherit the ranch, and the debt that goes with it. But I never was a son to him. He knew I wasn’t his, and he never treated me like his own blood. I was more like a hired hand, especially after my mother died. Finally, I confronted him about the way he treated me. He admitted he’d never felt any love for me. I was only a reminder of his wife’s affair. That was when I decided to connect with my blood family.
“I did my homework first. I learned he had two children by his first wife, neither of whom had given him much satisfaction. The daughter was a playgirl and failed actress—well, what would you call yourself? The son was a sissy-pants lawyer who hated horses. I hoped your father would welcome me to the family—a son by blood who shared his love for horses and ranching. But no—first, he wouldn’t even talk to me. Then, before I could change his mind, it was too late.”
“But you kept trying. You contacted Darrin before he was killed. And then me, wanting my DNA. Our father was already gone. What were you thinking?”
Hayden stood. “Figure it out for yourself. I’m through talking.”
He was gazing out through the glass, as if measuring the angle of the sun, when the answer struck her. Hayden didn’t just want to be a part of the Culhane family. He wanted to qualify for a share of Frank’s estate. And the fewer Culhanes there were, the larger his share would be. Clearly, he hadn’t killed Darrin. But maybe he’d planned to. Maybe he’d set up the situation, and fate had carried out his wish. He may have even killed Frank. He was certainly capable of lying about it.
If he succeeded in killing her, Jasmine reasoned, that would leave Darrin’s unborn baby as the only legal bloodheir, with Lila and Simone as widows. All three of them could be in danger.
The question was, why was Hayden doing this? Maybe his inheritance from Chet Barr had been drained by debt. Or maybe he just wanted to have something tangible from his birth father. The bottom line was, there was no sane reason behind what he was doing.
But then, maybe Hayden wasn’t sane.
How was he planning to kill her? Jasmine didn’t see a weapon anywhere. But on the far side of the room, a sliding-glass door opened onto a balcony fronted by a chest-high wrought-iron rail. If she was immobilized, it would be easy enough to boost her over the rail and let her fall sixteen stories to her death, then arrange the scene to look like suicide.
But he couldn’t get away with it in broad daylight. He would have to wait until after dark, when most people would be watching the Run for a Million, either in the arena or on closed-circuit TV.
He would have to cut her bonds to make a convincing show of suicide. She would fight for her life if he set her free. But he could inject her with a drug, render her unconscious with a blow, or twist her head and break her neck while she was still bound. Then he could cut the zip ties and toss her helpless body off the balcony.
The last time Jasmine had faced death, her mother had stepped in and saved her life. But her mother was beyond reach now. And so was Sam. Tonight would be his last chance to arrest her father’s murderer and close the case. Mingling with the crowd that poured into the arena, he would be focused on his job, alert to everything around him.