Her safety would be the last thing on his mind.
The arena’s outside doors opened at 4:30. Like water through the floodgates of a dam, the crowd poured in. Fanswandered among the vendor booths, lined up at the concessions counter, or hit the concourse to find their seats. This was the big night, with the Race to the Slide starting at 5:00, the Run for a Million opening ceremony at 6:00, and the main event at 6:30.
The festive air crackled with excitement. Country music blared over the shouting, laughing buzz of the crowd. The aromas of popcorn and hot dogs wafted from the concessions stand.
Dressed to blend in, Sam stood near the concourse entrance, watching for people he knew. It was early yet, but he wanted to keep track of who was here and where they could be found.
Stepping out of the way, he checked his phone again. In this noisy place, it would be easy to miss a call. But there was nothing new on the screen—nothing from Nick and nothing from the sheriff in Wichita Falls. Sam muttered a curse. In his line of work, there was nothing harder than waiting.
Admonishing himself to be patient, he set the ringtone to vibrate and slipped it into the chest pocket of his western-style shirt. Glancing up again, he saw Lila making her way toward him through the crowd, trailed by her pale shadow of a daughter.
“Hello, Agent.” She wasn’t smiling. A smile would have been insincere. For all Sam knew, she probably hated him.
“Mrs. Culhane.” He matched her formal tone. “I’m glad to see that you and Gemma were able to be here.”
“Of course we’re here,” she said. “One in a Million is my stallion. Some people tend to forget that.”
“Well, I wish him the best of luck,” Sam said. “He’s a magnificent animal.”
Lila ignored his comment. “The last time we met, I asked you to keep me informed. But I’ve heard nothing.”
Sam exhaled. He should have been better prepared forthis. “I know what you’re asking,” he said. “But I’m afraid I can’t discuss an ongoing case with you. Even if I could, I wouldn’t have much to tell you. All I can say is that I’m waiting for more information.”
“I understand.” Her mouth spoke the words, but her lovely violet eyes pleaded with him.Please, please don’t arrest him. You know he’s innocent.
“I have a couple of questions, if you don’t mind,” Sam said. “Do you happen to know Chet Barr’s son, Hayden?”
“Barely. I met him when we had Fire Dance at the ranch. I heard about his father’s crash on the news. Awful.”
“I need to talk to Hayden, but I can’t locate him anywhere. I was just wondering if you’d seen him.”
“Wouldn’t he have gone home to arrange his father’s funeral?”
“I thought so, too, but when I spoke with the sheriff there, he hadn’t arrived.”
“That’s strange. Really strange.”
Sam could almost read the hope in her eyes—that maybe Hayden, not Roper, was the new suspect in Frank’s murder. For now, he would let her keep that hope. But tracking down Hayden was mostly a matter of covering his bases. Only if the DNA on the murder weapon turned out to be Culhane, but no match for Darrin or Jasmine, would Hayden become a person of serious interest.
Hayden did have motive and means. Opportunity would be a stretch, but Sam couldn’t rule it out. Damn, what he wouldn’t give for that call from Nick. Until it came, his hands would be tied.
He watched Lila and her daughter cross the lobby and head toward the concourse, pausing to look at a selection of T-shirts in a vendor’s booth. Gemma, as always, was very protective of her mother. If she thought that Frankwas mistreating Lila in any way … But no. The idea of soft-spoken Gemma leaving school in the middle of the night, luring Frank to the stable, and jabbing the powerful man with a syringe was too far-fetched to even consider.
But things were about to get interesting.
Three people had just come in through the main entrance—Cheyenne, her mother Rachel, and a lanky cowboy that Sam recognized as Stetson McKenna, the oldest of the young rodeo stars.
Stetson walked ahead with an air of indifference. He’d seen his share of big events, and this was just one more. Cheyenne looked preoccupied and exhausted. Rachel, a full head taller than her daughter, clasped Cheyenne’s arm. Dressed in a denim skirt and a faded, western-style blouse with a leather bolo, she was looking around the lobby, taking in the crowd. When a trio of giggling girls in crop tops, skimpy cutoff denim shorts, and cowgirl boots passed in front of her, she pursed her lips and shook her head as if to say,What’s this world coming to?
In the next moment, her gaze fell on Lila and Gemma standing by the T-shirt stall. Her spine stiffened. She raised her head like a mare sniffing trouble on the wind.
“Go on ahead and find our seats, Stetson,” she said. “We’ll be along shortly.”
Sam checked his phone again. After seeing that there were no new messages, he moved in closer to where Lila stood with Gemma, holding up a blue tee with a horse logo on it for her daughter’s approval. Experience had taught him that sometimes he could learn more from an overheard conversation than from an interview.
Pulling Cheyenne along, Rachel marched straight up to Lila. “Mrs. Culhane,” she said, not bothering with an introduction, “I think it’s time we met.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. McKenna. I’m glad you could behere.” Lila laid the shirt on the counter and extended a hand.