Hayden caught her arm as she stepped off the sidewalk. “Whoa! Where are you going?”
“That truck!” She strained against his clasp. “It could be the one. I need to check it for damage.”
“You mean the one that sideswiped your rig?” He pulled her back onto the sidewalk. “What are the chances, Cheyenne? That semi could be anywhere by now. Damn it, even if you’re right, that parking lot could be dangerous, especially for a pretty young woman like you. You don’t know what—or who—could be out there.”
“Are you coming with me or staying here?” She twisted free and started back into the parking lot.
With a muttered curse, Hayden caught up with her. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”
They wove their way among the parked vehicles, Haydenguiding the way with the flashlight on his phone. There was little human activity at this hour, but the crumbling asphalt was littered with cigarette butts, spots of chew, and occasional drug needles. A rat scuttled across their path.
Under light, the Peterbilt truck was green, just as Cheyenne remembered. If it had sideswiped the trailer rig, any damage sustained would be on the passenger side of the cab. Heart pounding, she directed the beam of Hayden’s phone light.
There it was. The outside edge of the heavy bumper, which had caught the side of the blue Dodge pickup, was streaked with blue paint, as was a shallow scrape along the passenger side door.
Cheyenne’s pulse broke into a gallop. “This is the one!” she whispered. “This is the truck!”
Hayden began taking pictures with his phone—closeups of the damage and the license plate and shots of the entire vehicle. He was doing his best to help. But as she watched him, the memory of the crash surged afresh—the roar of the semi and the scream of metal, the fear of hanging over the edge of the road, and the terror for the horses. Because of this truck, and its driver, a precious filly would pay with her life.
Cheyenne’s roiling anger heated into rage. If she’d had a crowbar or a pickaxe, she would have shattered the glass and mutilated the metal. If she’d had a knife, she would have slashed the tires. All useless. Nothing could undo the harm that had been done.
Hayden had almost finished taking photos when the glaring beam of a flashlight, blindingly bright, froze them where they stood. As their eyes adjusted, the stocky figure of a man in jeans and a black tee came into focus. Onehand held a powerful flashlight. The other hand aimed a revolver.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The gritty voice was a match for his pudgy, brutal-looking features. Cheyenne could sense his flinty eyes taking their measure. Neither she nor Hayden had a weapon. The man could shoot them both, right here.
He fixed his gaze on Hayden. “Put your phone on the ground and kick it toward me.”
When Hayden hesitated, the man’s voice dropped to a growl. “Do it, mister. And no tricks, or I’ll shoot your girlfriend. She won’t look so pretty after that.”
Hayden did as he was told. Keeping the gun aimed, the man crushed the phone with a stomp of his thick-soled motorcycle boot. Would he really fire that gun? Not likely, Cheyenne reasoned. He might be a hit man—and probably was. But this wasn’t a contract situation. He had nothing to gain and everything to risk by shooting a couple of nosy strangers.
Still, she couldn’t be sure enough to make a move. And there was Hayden’s safety to think of as well as her own.
His gaze shifted to Cheyenne, eyes narrowing. “Hey, I know you, girl. You were in that horse rig that blocked me on the freeway out of Kingman. I could barely get around you. Tell your driver he should’ve been more careful. He could have caused a bad accident.”
Cheyenne’s temper flared and erupted.
“An accident!” Heedless of the danger, she spat out the words. “We were in the outside lane. You had plenty of room to pass. But you moved over and crowded us off the shoulder. You almost killed us! And a beautiful horse will have to be put down because of you.”
Hayden was nudging her to stop, but the words kept coming. “That was no accident! You did it on purpose!”
The man lowered the gun. A slow smile creased his ugly face. “Prove it, lady. Try to prove it was anything but a fender bender. I’m sorry about the horse, but you’ve got nothing.” He kicked the broken phone across the asphalt. “You can have that back. Now get out of here before I decide to make trouble.”
Pocketing his phone, Hayden took Cheyenne’s arm and guided her back through the maze of parked vehicles. Only as they reached the sidewalk did he speak. “Damn it, Cheyenne, you scared me to death. I was afraid we were both going to get shot. What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t thinking,” she said. “I was furious—the way he was talking, as if he’d done nothing wrong. Do you think you can recover those photos you took?”
“I don’t know. I’ll try. At least I remember the license plate number. We can give that to the police. But the man was right about one thing. Unless we can prove he was carrying out a hit, we’ve got nothing. You’re talking property damage. He dented a rig and injured a horse. That’s a misdemeanor. And now he’s claiming it wasn’t even his fault.”
“At least we’ve seen his face,” Cheyenne said. “We can always look at mug shots or work with a sketch artist to find out whether he’s a hit man.”
“Maybe. But again, you’ll have to convince the police he’s worth their time.”
“I hear you. Let’s go check on the horses.” Cheyenne strode ahead as the barn came into sight. Hayden’s long legs kept pace with her. Clearly, he seemed to think she should forget the incident on the freeway or leave it to Roper. But she couldn’t forget what had happened. And she wouldn’t be at peace until justice had been done.
The inside of Barn A, where the horses were housed, was a sea of numbered stalls, arranged in long double rows. Concrete pillars rose like trees in a forest, supporting the vast roof, which also sheltered a vet clinic, a feed store, offices for the judges and barn manager, and a double row of wash racks that also served the adjoining Barn B. A passage on the south side of the barn led to the casino and the hotel lobby.
Cheyenne and Hayden savored the cool air as they entered on the north, from Silverado Ranch Boulevard. The lights had been dimmed, but they could see well enough to follow the stall numbers and find their horses.