She could hear him using the toilet in the bathroom. She had seconds to act. Twisting toward the far side of the bed, she rolled onto her belly. From there, hunching and crawling like an inchworm, she managed to reach the edge of the mattress and drop into the narrow space between the bed and the wall. She had no plan—only what was possible.
The bed was low, with less than a foot of space between the metal frame that supported the box spring and the carpeted floor. Jasmine could hear the toilet flushing as she squirmed her way under the bed. She was slender, but the fit was so tight that she was literally wedged. There wasn’t even room to raise her head.
The carpet that pressed into her face was musty and smelled of stale beer. Fear soured her stomach, making her nauseous. She couldn’t hide forever. But she had no place to go. All she could do was lie still and wait.
The arena stands were full. Fans cheered wildly as horses and riders competed in spectacular slides from a full gallopto an explosive skid that sprayed the sawdust mix into waves.
Sam’s aisle seat gave him a view of the crowd below. He could see Lila’s blond head where she sat with her daughter in the front row. The dark-haired McKennas were farther back, Rachel sitting between her son and daughter. Stetson was cheering and hooting with the crowd. Cheyenne slumped in dejected silence. Love gone wrong, maybe?
He had yet to see Hayden, and he was still waiting for the call from Nick. The sense of time running out was like blood dripping from a fatal wound. His thoughts wandered briefly to Jasmine. Was she still at the Excalibur waiting for her flight, or had she found another way out of town? Would she even let him know? Maybe he should give her a quick call, just to make sure she was all right. He scrolled to her number.
Jasmine’s phone was still in her purse. She could hear the muffled ringtone and then the faint voice she recognized as Sam’s, leaving a short message before the call ended. For a few seconds, there was nothing except the sound of the TV. Then the bathroom door opened. With her ear pressed to the floor, Hayden’s steps reverberated like the footfalls of a giant.
He stepped into the room and stopped, probably noticing the empty bed. “Where are you, Big Sister?” He was moving around the room, looking behind the furniture. She heard him open the door, check up and down the hallway, then slam it shut.
Now he stood next to the bed, scarcely an arm’s length away. She could see the toes of his boots below the hem of the bedspread. Barely able to move, she held her breath as he lifted the spread, dropped to his knees in the small space, and bent low enough to see her. Jasmine’s pulse went wild as he chuckled, then spoke.
“So there you are. Clever girl. But you might as well give up and come out. You’re not going anywhere.”
Jasmine stayed silent. He might have found her hiding place, but he still had to get her out. A childhood story surfaced in her mind—the chuckwalla, a desert lizard that could escape enemies by hiding in a rock crack and inflating its body to fit so tightly that a predator couldn’t pull it out. What a time to remember such a thing. But maybe that lizard had something to teach her.
The phone in her purse rang again. Sam’s voice. Clearer this time. “I know what we agreed on, but please call me, Jasmine. I just need to know you’re okay.”
As the call ended, Jasmine’s lips formed his name.
It was dark under the bed. The light that fell on Hayden’s face cast his features into a grotesque mask of light and shadow. She’d surmised earlier that he might be mentally ill. But maybe he was more than that. Maybe he was a monster. Whatever he was, she wouldn’t submit to her fate. If she was going to die, she would die fighting.
Worried, Sam stared down at his phone. Jasmine was known to be stubborn. He wouldn’t put it past her to ignore his calls. But what if she was in some kind of trouble?
The phone vibrated in his hand. His pulse quickened. But the caller wasn’t Jasmine or Nick. It was the sheriff.
“I’ve been hoping you’d find Hayden for us,” he said. “Any luck?”
“I haven’t seen him,” Sam said. “Why? Has something else happened?”
“We just got the report from the FAA. They finished their investigation of the plane wreckage. They found a leak in the fuel line. The damage was done with sulfuric acid. The stuff eats through aluminum like a rat through cheese. Have you heard of that?”
“I have.” Sam remembered Lila’s car wreck a few weeks ago at the ranch. The fuel line leakage had been timed to happen on the freeway. Only a swerve to avoid a goat on a back road had caused a rollover and saved her from a much worse accident. The crime had been traced to Darrin, but his mother’s intercession had saved him from arrest.
“The leak wouldn’t have started till the plane was in the air,” the sheriff said. “We’re looking at a murder case now. And Hayden’s our chief suspect—hell, our only suspect. We’ve got a manhunt on our hands. If you see him, take him into custody and call me.”
Sam ended the call, his thoughts churning. Hayden, it appeared, had wanted his full inheritance badly enough to kill for it. He must have wanted the Culhane inheritance, too. Killing Frank didn’t fit the timing, but he could have done it. Next was Darrin. Hayden could have set his half brother up for murder in the barn. But Darrin’s tragic death had done the deed for him. That left only one living blood Culhane relative …
Jasmine.
Jasmine kept silent as Hayden cursed her from the side of the bed. His shoulders were too bulky to fit under the frame. But if he flattened himself face down on the floor, he might be able to reach her with an arm. Sooner or later he would think of that. And Hayden was strong. If he could get a grip and pull her out, he would probably be angry enough to beat the life out of her.
“Come on out, you little bitch,” he snarled. “If I have to drag you out, you’ll pay for it! When I’m through with you, that pretty face will look like roadkill!”
Jasmine’s silence defied him to try. She lay taut and waitinglike a trapped animal. Whatever she did next would depend on him.
From somewhere in the room, Hayden’s phone rang. He glanced up but didn’t try to answer it. “Maybe that’s your boyfriend,” he said to Jasmine. “I’ll let it ring for now. He’ll find you soon enough. By then, I’ll be gone without a trace. He’ll never know you didn’t kill yourself. I was planning to wait, but if he’s onto us, it’ll have to happen soon.”
Jasmine didn’t reply. Silence was her only weapon.
“Say something, damn it!” he exploded. “Beg for your life!” He paused, the TV the only sound in the room. “If I have to come after you, you’ll be sorry!”
As he flattened himself on the floor, Jasmine prepared to fight for her life. She waited as his arm slid under the bed, close enough to reach her. His fingers groped for something to hold onto—her shoulder, her face.