Page 4

C HAPTER F OUR

T here were just two men in the cells. One was a lanky young cowboy, sitting on his bunk with his face buried in his hands. The other man was Judd Proctor.

Judd was fit and husky with craggy features, shoulder-length sandy hair, and unsettling, golden eyes, like a hawk’s. By now, he’d been in jail for more than two weeks. His hair hung in greasy tangles, and there was a gravy stain on his rumpled orange jumpsuit. Crystal understood that the jail required prisoners to shower, but she could smell his sweat as soon as she stepped through the doorway.

Once upon a time, she’d thought Judd was sexy. She’d ridden behind him on his Harley, clinging to his muscular body and feeling like a queen. But then Frank Culhane had shown her a different kind of life and a different kind of love. After his tragic death, she’d never looked back. She’d moved on, and she was determined to keep moving.

She wasn’t proud of the things she’d done with Judd—especially the drugs she’d tried. She’d never become addicted, and she’d quit after hooking up with Frank. But she couldn’t help worrying that they might have affected her baby.

As Crystal approached the cell, still keeping her distance, he rose, shuffled forward, and leaned against the bars. The young man in the next cell paid them no attention.

“It’s about time you came to see me, baby,” Judd said. “I’ve been wondering what you’ve been up to since your rich boyfriend kicked the bucket.”

“I’m working, mostly, and looking for a job in a classier place. I don’t have to stay in this shithouse town forever. Was that your lawyer who just left?”

“Yeah. My trial’s set for next week. He thinks he might get me off. It was entrapment, he says. That means I was set up. I could walk out of court a free man.”

“That’s great.” Actually, it wasn’t great. Crystal would have preferred him out of the way and unable to interfere with her plans.

His powerful hands gripped the bars, as if he wanted to bend them apart and reach out to her. “I’ve been missing you too long, baby,” he said. “You hurt me bad, taking up with that rich old bastard. I’m not sorry he’s dead. But when I get out, we can forget him and pick up where we left off. I can’t wait to get you in the sack again, girl. I’ve been thinking about the things I want to do to you. It’ll be like before, only better.”

Crystal stifled a groan. Things were going from bad to worse. She had to finish this. She fought the wave of nausea that swept over her. She shouldn’t have bolted down that chili dog after her shift. If Judd figured out she was pregnant, he could ruin everything.

“Oh, baby.” His unearthly golden eyes welled with tears. “It’s driving me crazy, being locked up like this. The only thing keeping me sane is knowing you’re out there, waiting for me.”

Crystal summoned her courage, braced for his reaction, and forced herself to speak. “That’s enough, Judd. I wish you well, but I’m not waiting for you. I came here for one reason tonight—to say goodbye.”

“What the hell—”

“You heard me. I deserve better than a greasy drug dealer who lives over a garage and can’t even get a decent job. I deserve better than a life of waiting for you to get out of jail. We’re done, Judd. This time for good.”

Turning her back on him, she walked away. But the sound of his voice, swearing and yelling, followed her out of the cell area and down the hall.

“You little bitch! Who’s banging you now? Have you found yourself some other old prick with money? Well, you can go straight to hell! Hear me, bitch? Go to hell!”

Wanting to get away, Crystal raced down the hall, through the reception area, and out the door to her car—Judd’s car, she remembered as she started the Hyundai’s engine. With luck, she wouldn’t need the old junker for long. If things worked out, she’d be able to buy any car she wanted.

Maybe even a Porsche like Lila Culhane’s, but red, or maybe black . . .

* * *

As the shouted curses died away, Roper exchanged glances with the woman at the counter. She shrugged. “You get used to that sort of thing in here,” she said. “You can see your brother now, Mr. McKenna. Ten-minute limit on your visit. You’ll hear a bell when time’s up.”

Roper walked back down the hall. Rowdy, still in his jeans and plaid shirt, was huddled on the edge of his bunk. When Roper spoke his name, he raised a tear-ravaged face. Roper was torn between hugging his brother and wanting to shake some sense into the young fool. With iron bars between them, he could do neither.

“I’m sorry, Roper,” he muttered. “How’s Mom? I know she’ll want to kill me.”

“Mom’s disappointed. We all are. We thought you’d been taught better. What happened, Rowdy?”

Rowdy sighed. “A guy at Jackalope’s gave me a sample. He said he’d sell me more if I wanted. I took it out to my car to try it. The cop was right there, like he’d been waiting for me. I think I was set up.”

“Have you used cocaine before?” Roper asked.

“No. Never. Honest.”

“I’m not sure I believe you, brother. If you’d never used it, why did you take it, and how did you know what to do with it? I’ll ask you again, Rowdy. Have you ever used cocaine?”

“Maybe . . . once or twice.”

“Sure. How about marijuana?”

“Heck, everybody does that.”

“Everybody? You mean like your brothers? Your sister?”

“Not Cheyenne. Maybe the boys. But I don’t know for sure.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Hang it, Roper, I just want to go home! When are you going to stop grilling me and get me out of here?”

“Not until after your bail hearing tomorrow. And only then if the judge lets you go. Either way, I’ll be there for you.”

The warning bell rang, signaling an end to the visit.

“Don’t go, Roper,” Rowdy begged.

“Get some rest. I’ll see you before your hearing.” Roper forced himself to turn away and leave. Damn fool kid. He deserved to spend a night in jail. Maybe it would bring him to his senses. Meanwhile Roper had to call Chet Barr in the morning, get the stable ready for Fire Dance’s arrival, and put things right with Lila. After what had happened between them tonight, things would never be the same between them. They would have to find new ways to get along.

And if that didn’t work? If he couldn’t keep his hands off her—or even keep from thinking about it?

Forcing the thought from his mind, Roper started the truck and headed out of town.

* * *

“Hey, kid, are you okay?”

The raspy voice startled Rowdy. He looked around. The rough-looking man in the next cell was watching him with his unsettling yellow eyes. “Sorry, kid, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

“That’s all right. I’m fine,” Rowdy said. The man looked like someone his mother would have warned him about, but he seemed friendly enough. And any conversation was better than the silence of this place.

“I’m sorry about your girlfriend,” Rowdy said.

“Yeah, that sucks.” The man moved closer to the bars that separated the two of them. “When I get out of here, that bitch is going to pay. She’ll be sorry for trying to dump me.”

Something in his tone sent a chill up Rowdy’s spine. He decided to change the subject. “I heard you say that your lawyer is going to get you off. How is that supposed to happen?”

Rowdy’s newfound friend raked his greasy hair back from his face. “You know what entrapment is?”

“Not really. I just heard the word. Mainly from you.”

“Entrapment means I was set up. A guy I didn’t know made a buy. His partner arrested me. They were both cops. They’re not allowed to trick me like that. If my lawyer can prove entrapment, I’m free as a bird.”

He aimed a stream of spittle at the toilet in the corner of the cell, making a direct hit. “I heard what you said to your brother. If you really got set up, and you could prove it, you could claim entrapment, too.”

“Do I need a lawyer? Yours, maybe?”

“Good lawyers cost money. You’ll have a public defender tomorrow. They’re mostly crap, but you can get a better one later. Just plead not guilty tomorrow and take it from there.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Rowdy said.

“You’re a sharp boy. I could use somebody like you in my business. If you want to make good money, come see me after you’re out. Just ask for Judd at Jackalope’s.”

“Thank you kindly, Judd,” Rowdy said. “I make pretty good money riding broncs in the rodeo, but I’ll keep you in mind.”

“Do that, kid,” Judd said as the overhead lights dimmed. “For now, I’m going to get some shut-eye.”

He stretched out on his bunk and turned to face the wall.

Rowdy lay gazing up at the ceiling. He could hear the opening and closing of doors, muffled voices, and the sound of footfalls as the night shift came on. The place smelled of urine, bleach, and stale food. He hated it. But he wasn’t as stupid as he’d made himself sound to Judd. He just wanted to learn enough to get out of here. He was too young, and too smart, to have his life ruined by one crappy arrest.

* * *

Sam woke with a start. The bungalow was quiet except for the whine of a mosquito in the dark bedroom. He was a sound sleeper, especially when he was tired. But just now, something had awakened him.

There it was again—this time he recognized the sound of his cell phone. Rolling onto his side, he grabbed it off the nightstand. The display window read Unknown Caller.

“Hullo,” he muttered, taking the call.

“Sam, it’s me.”

His pulse leaped. Relief battled worry as he found his voice. “Jasmine—are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Sam. I bought a burner phone. I didn’t want to risk getting you in trouble.”

Hearing her voice made him feel like a lovestruck teenager. And even a burner phone, linked to his number, wouldn’t be entirely safe. But she wouldn’t be calling without a good reason. “What is it?” he asked. “Is something wrong? Your mother, is she—”

“No, mostly she seems about the same. But she says the headaches are getting worse, and I’ve noticed her stumbling sometimes, as if she can’t keep her balance. She won’t use a cane.”

“Have you talked with her doctor?” Sam asked.

“Mother hasn’t seen a doctor since we got here, or even called one on the phone. She says as long as the tumor’s incurable, there’s no point. She doesn’t want to die throwing up and losing her hair. She just wants to live her life and let the end come when it comes.” Her voice broke slightly.

“Knowing your mother, I’m not surprised,” Sam said. Madeleine Culhane was a force of nature. Even when he’d had to arrest her for murder, Sam had admired her strength. He’d even liked her. And she’d made it clear that she’d liked him—especially as a match for her restless daughter.

“Does your brother know she’s stopped treatment?” he asked.

“Mother wants to tell him herself. Darrin has a way of jumping in where he’s not wanted. I expect she’ll wait until things get worse. I’ve been helping her arrange her affairs. No surprises so far.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“Where are you, Sam? Are you back at the ranch?”

“I got in last night. I’ll start questioning people again in the morning. For the record, I’m glad it wasn’t your mother who had your father killed.”

She sighed. “So am I. Not that it would have made much difference. But it’ll make the memories easier when she’s gone.”

“I love you, Jasmine. I wish you were here right now.”

“So do I. But I’m needed here. I’d ask you about the case, but I know you’re not allowed to talk about it.”

“Will you let me know how it goes with your mother? You know that I won’t share this with anybody. And be careful how you use that burner. Don’t call me unless it’s urgent.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t. Get some rest now. I love you, too, Sam.”

They ended the call. Sam lay back in the bed and tried to sleep. But he was wide awake now. A glance at the bedside clock told him it was 4:15 in the morning. Resigning himself to an early start, he dressed, made a cup of coffee, and took it onto the broad front porch. As he settled into a chair, he remembered sitting out there with Jasmine, their talks, and the lovemaking that had sometimes followed.

There was no way she would have murdered her father—unless there was something about their relationship she’d kept secret. He would trust Jasmine with his life, but it was his job to think like a cop. Everybody was a suspect, even the woman he loved.

Restless, Sam set his coffee cup on the porch and wandered down toward the paddocks. The first light of dawn cast the eastern hills into soft silhouette. In the grassy pastures, awakening birds trilled their calls on the morning air. The windmill creaked faintly in the breeze. Soon the ranch hands would be arriving to start their day. For now, except for the line of stock trailers, the employee lot was empty. Even the house was quiet.

But not everyone was asleep. Distant lights, barely visible, were moving on Charlie Grishman’s game ranch. Looking beyond the fields, Sam could make out what appeared to be a huge truck pulling up to the animal compound. Was it some kind of delivery, made at an hour when it might not be noticed?

Charlie, a former math teacher, had turned a patch of worthless scrub land into a moneymaking operation. It was a deplorable business—unwanted animals kept under wretched conditions, then turned loose to be shot by would-be game hunters. Sam detested the little man. But Charlie was legally licensed. Policing him was not Sam’s job.

Still, Charlie was on Sam’s list of murder suspects. He lived alone and had no supporting alibi. It would have been easy enough for him to ambush Frank in the stable and plunge the deadly syringe into his neck. The only thing missing was a motive. Charlie was sitting pretty, piling money in the bank. Why should he risk it all by murdering his neighbor?

Sam planned to visit him in the next few days. But his first interview would be with the person who’d moved closer to the top of his list—Frank’s glamorous widow.

* * *

Charlie paid the driver and watched the large enclosed delivery truck roll out of the gate. As the red taillights faded, he turned around to admire his prize.

Molly, a fifty-year-old Asian elephant, stood in the special enclosure Charlie had built with thick timbers and chain-link fencing. Her trunk was moving, exploring her new surroundings, maybe looking for food. Her massive weight shifted from side to side. A rumbling sound rose from her throat.

Owned by the proprietor of a bankrupt kiddy zoo, she’d spent most of her long life giving rides to children and their parents. Destined for a sanctuary, she’d ended up here when Charlie had offered the owner $5,000. Offers to hunt her were already coming in from Charlie’s clients.

But Molly was far from an ideal game animal. Like most females of the Asian species, she had no tusks. The taxidermist had promised to add fakes for a more impressive trophy. But nothing could be done while Molly was alive.

Worse, Molly was as docile as a milk cow. She could be ridden, petted, and led without any resistance. Over the next couple of weeks, that would have to change, along with her name. It would be up to Charlie and his helpers to destroy her trust and turn her into a beast that would be a challenge and a thrill for any hunter to shoot.

He would start after breakfast. For now, he would give her some water and hay and post a guard to keep an eye on her. Then he would go back inside, check the offers in his email, and celebrate with a glass of Scotch.

* * *

When Sam saw Lila having her morning coffee on the patio, he took it as an invitation to join her. She looked up as he came through the wrought iron gate. The outdoor table was set with a linen cloth and an extra place. A single pink rose in a glass vase stood next to a carafe of coffee and a plate of buttered toast.

“Good morning, Agent Rafferty.” She was flushed and rumpled, her eyes in shadow, as if she’d had a sleepless night. “I was expecting you,” she said, forcing politeness. “Please have a seat. Would you like some coffee? As I recall, you drink it black.”

“Thank you.” He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. The coffee would be his second cup, but that was all right. “And thank you for your hospitality,” he said. “I know you aren’t overjoyed to have me back.”

“True. But if this is what it takes to find Frank’s killer, I wish you a productive stay.” She filled his cup from the carafe. “How is Madeleine? Have you heard?”

“I assume she’s the same.” His reply skirted the edge of truth.

“Would it shock you if I were to say that I wish she’d been guilty—especially since she actually meant to kill Frank?”

“Nothing shocks me anymore,” Sam said. “All I want to do is find the truth.”

She poured more coffee into her cup. “”Speaking of the truth, there’s been a new development. And if this doesn’t shock you, nothing will.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I know the identity of Frank’s secret girlfriend—the woman in the photos. I’ve even met her. Her name is Crystal Carter. She’s pregnant—and she claims the baby is Frank’s.”

Sam listened as Lila told him the whole story. How Crystal had called her pleading for help, how they’d met at the restaurant, and how Lila had insisted on a paternity test before talking with the young woman again.

“I arranged payment for the test, and I’ll be waiting to hear from the doctor,” she said. “He’ll take Crystal’s blood sample. Frank’s DNA was collected at the crime scene. The doctor can get a copy of the results. When he has both, he’ll send them to the lab. The analysis shouldn’t take long.”

“They can do that?” Sam asked. “Don’t they have to get a sample from the baby’s amniotic fluid?”

“No, this new way is safer. As I understand it, they can separate the baby’s DNA from the mother’s blood and match it against the alleged father’s. It can’t give legal proof that a man is the father, but if there’s no match, it can prove that he isn’t. That’s the way I understand it.”

“I’ll take your word for that.” Sam’s coffee had cooled. He put the cup aside. “Did Frank know about the baby?”

“She planned to tell him before he was killed. At least that’s what she claimed. But she could be lying. I’ve been thinking, what if she’d told him about the baby and demanded that he marry her, or at least give her money? He could have refused. That would have given her motive to kill him and take her story to me.”

Lila’s hands crumpled her linen napkin. “When I couldn’t get pregnant, I began to suspect that Frank had had a secret vasectomy. I’ll never know if that was true, but if it was, he’d have known at once that the baby wasn’t his.”

“Have you checked his medical records?”

“Yes. There’s nothing. But for whatever reason, he could’ve had the operation done off the books—somewhere like Mexico.”

“I’ll need to talk to Miss Carter,” Sam said. “Can you tell me how to find her?”

“She said she was working afternoons at Jackalope Saloon in Willow Bend. You’ve seen her from the back in the photo. She’s petite, brunette, and pretty. You’d recognize her hands—the nails, the rings. I can give you her phone number, too.”

“Thanks.” Sam reorganized his mental list, with Crystal at the top. He would talk to her today if he could track her down. “What about the paternity test?” he asked. “When will you know the results?”

“That will depend on when Crystal goes in for the test and how long the results take. The doctor promised to rush the lab work for me. Of course, if I never hear, that will be my answer.”

“What will you do if she’s telling the truth? Have you thought about that?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know. It will depend on what she wants. To paraphrase my grandma, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

Lila passed Sam a sheet of notepaper with a phone number written on it. Sam had pocketed it and was standing up to leave when he saw Roper’s battered Ford pickup pull into the employee lot. Lila’s gaze followed his as Roper climbed out and, without a glance in their direction, strode toward the stable.

Sam glanced at Lila. Her lips were parted, her hands twisting her napkin. The signs were subtle, but Sam sensed a new conflict between her and Roper.

“I heard that Roper will be taking Frank’s place in the Run for a Million,” he said. “Will he be riding that big roan stallion?”

“No,” Lila said. “He thinks One in a Million is too old, and none of our other horses are ready for the competition. He plans on borrowing another horse from a breeder.”

“And the breeder will get half the prize if he wins. Where does that leave you?”

“We’re still negotiating.” She didn’t look pleased. “I’m asking for a cut of his share if he wins. But I don’t know what the fuss is about. Roper will be competing against the best riders in the world. Even on a great horse, there’s no way he’s going to win. We’re going to war over nothing.”

Going to war. Sam had been right about the conflict between them. But was it just about horses and money? Sam’s success as a lawman had hinged, in part, on his ability to read people. Something deeper was going on here. But he would leave it for now, at least until he’d gotten Roper’s side of the story. Taking his leave of Lila, he followed the cobblestone path to the stable.

Roper was high on Sam’s suspect list. His parents had backed up his alibi, but they could be lying to protect him. And his motive was undeniable. Frank’s death had bought him a chance at the Run for a Million. Now, if Sam’s hunch was right, it might have bought him something more.

The stable hands were arriving, their vehicles pulling into the parking lot. Roper had disappeared into the stable. Following the sound, Sam found him sweeping out an empty box stall. A cart piled with clean straw stood outside the sliding gate.

Roper looked up as Sam stepped into sight. “So you’re back on the job, are you?” he said.

“I’m afraid so. Maybe this time I’ll catch the real killer. Can I give you a hand with anything?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass.” Roper put the broom aside and began forking straw to cover the floor mat in the stall.

“Is this for the new horse?” Sam asked.

“Not really new, just borrowed for the competition. Fire Dance should be arriving late today. I guess Lila told you he was coming.”

“She mentioned he might be. That was all.”

“What else did she mention?”

“That the two of you were still negotiating.”

Roper forked a heap of straw and flung it, almost angrily, into the far corner of the stall. “The negotiations are over. You can tell Lila that she won. She’ll be getting everything she asked for.”

“You might want to tell her yourself.”

“That’ll have to wait,” Roper said. “I’ve got a lot going on here, and I’m due in Willow Bend by eight this morning.”

Was this something new? Sam remained silent, waiting for Roper to volunteer more.

Roper raked the straw to make a thick, even layer. “All right. Since you’re bound to hear about it sooner or later, I need to be in court for my fool brother’s bail hearing. Cocaine possession. First arrest. For now, he’ll have a public defender who won’t give a damn about him. I figure he’ll need somebody there to make sure he’s all right.”

“What about the rest of your family?”

“They’re keeping their distance. My mother’s angry at him for disgracing the family. My stepdad can’t get there alone. And the youngsters don’t want to show up and call attention to what’s happened—Rowdy’s arrest would make juicy back page reading in the tabloids.”

“So it falls on you to play the big brother,” Sam said. “I’m sorry, Roper. Family problems are the worst.”

“You sound like someone who knows. What about your family? I’ve never asked you.”

“One ex-wife, no kids. My brother died young in a car accident and my parents are long gone, so there’s just me. I don’t know what I can do to help your situation, but if you need anything—within the limits of my job, of course—feel free to ask.”

“Of course. Thanks anyway.”

Sam felt the chill in his words. The last time he was here, he and Roper had formed a cautious friendship. But everyone at the ranch was a murder suspect, and this man was among the most likely. Roper would surely be aware of that.

Roper finished with the stall and spent a few minutes directing his workers. Then he went out to his truck.

As Sam watched him drive away, he reflected on what he’d seen and heard. When Roper had talked about Lila and their so-called negotiations, Sam could sense the frustration he was barely holding back. There was something going on between the two of them. But unless it concerned Frank’s murder, it was none of his business. For now, all he could do was watch and wait.

It was too early yet to catch Crystal at work. He would drive to Willow Bend after lunch and hope to find her. If she was telling the truth about her pregnancy—or even if she was lying—her situation could cast his case in a whole new light.