Page 18 of One in a Million
“Darrin has a house, a wife, and a law practice in Willow Bend. He was here this morning, but when you didn’t show up on time, he left. He said he had appointments.”
“What about the wife?”
“Pregnant. Probably throwing up at home. If you want to talk to them in town, we have a few spare vehicles. I’ll have one brought around for your use.”
“Thanks. If it’s not too much bother.” Sam was in no position to refuse. He needed a way to get around.
“Nothing’s a bother if it leads to justice for Frank’s murder. I need this situation resolved. We all do, so we can move forward.”
“One final question for now,” Sam said. “I know what you said. But do you have any suspicion, even an inkling, of who might have killed your husband?”
“At the moment, Mr. Rafferty, I do not. And now I have a long list of other things to do. I’ll make a call for the Jeep. It will be around front shortly.” She rose from her seat at the table, turned, and walked back into the house, leaving him alone on the patio.
I need this situation resolved. We all do, so we can move forward.
Were those the words of a grieving widow? Jasmine had mentioned that Lila was cold. Maybe her control was only a front, put up as a show of strength. But something was off about the woman. Unless proven innocent, she would remain near the top of his list of suspects.
Slipping his laptop and the printed file Nick had given him back into the briefcase, he took the path back around the house to the front porch. He’d planned to return to the arena and talk to Roper. But the man appeared to be focused on his job for now. And since a Jeep would be showing up soon, that interview might be better put off until he’d talked to Lila’s stepson in town—and the wife as well. A couple carrying the next generation of Culhanes would have a motive to continue the family legacy on the ranch—especially if they suspected their father was about to trade in the legally vulnerable Lila for a younger, and perhaps more fertile, woman.
The sun was already getting hot. Sam stood in the shade of the grand house’s overhanging balcony, watching the morning light spill across the scrub flat that stretched beyond the boundary of the ranch. Something could be waiting for him out there, maybe the answer to everything. Now that he had wheels again, he would spend some time exploring and meeting the neighbors—any one of whom could open up new insights into this crime.
Now he could hear the Jeep coming along the access road from behind the stables. A moment later it swung around the front corner of the house, a newer white Jeep Wrangler.
At the wheel was Jasmine.
* * *
Roper swung his weight off the prize five-year-old mare, gave her a pat, and turned her over to the grooms to be unsaddled and bathed. One in a Million’s daughter, Million Dollar Baby, was already registered, with himself as rider, for the derby in Scottsdale next month. Now that the event had become a shootout, to fill the vacancy left by Frank’s death, the competition would be tougher. But she was still a horse that could win it all.
The white-faced roan was big and powerful for a mare, and as precise in her moves as a ballerina. Frank had won a big futurity event with her at the age of three. In full competition she’d scored high, although she’d ultimately lost to more experienced horses. Roper had long known she had the heart of a champion. Now that she was a little older, with more of Roper’s training behind her, would she be good enough to take him to the Run for a Million? Wouldhebe good enough for her?
The next horse, a client’s bay gelding, was ready and waiting to be worked. Roper was about to beckon the groom to bring it in when Lila stepped out of the shadows, motioning the groom back with a wave of her hand.
“How was Baby this morning?” she asked Roper.
“Good as ever,” Roper said.
“She’ll need to be better than ever. Do you think she’ll be ready for the shootout?”
“She’ll have to be. She’s a lot of horse. I think she can do this.”
When Lila didn’t say more, he prodded her. “Is there something you need, Boss?” He used the name he’d chosen to call her.
“Just a few words.” Her coppery eyes seemed to glow in the dim light around her. A lock of ash blond hair had fallen in front of her ear, half framing her classic face. Roper liked looking at her. But this was business. He knew better than to treat her like a woman he wanted.
She glanced back at the two teenaged grooms hovering around the bay gelding, within hearing. “Walk with me,” she said.
Brushing the small of her back with his fingertips, he ushered her around the arena to the far side. She glanced back toward the stables before she spoke. “Just a heads-up. Our FBI agent finally showed up. He’ll be hunting you down for an interview.”
“Let him. I’ve nothing to hide. Frank and I got along, and the only thing I did in that stall was come running when Jasmine screamed—that, and quiet the stallion. What’s the man like?”
“He seems quiet, low-key, the kind who’ll trip you up in a heartbeat if you lower your guard.”
“I told you, I have nothing to hide.”
But do you, Boss?Roper found himself wondering.Are you afraid I might say too much about you—even though you’ve never told me anything private about your marriage? I know Frank could be an unfeeling jerk. Did you come to hate him for it? Did you hate him enough to kill him?
He’d signed the paperwork and collaborated with her on her plans for the horses almost since the day of Frank’s murder. But he’d never felt he knew her well, let alone understood her. Her refusal to show grief, her drive to preserve her late husband’s horse legacy and to keep her hold on his home, was burning her alive. And soon the enemy that was Frank’s first family would be closing in on her. He could see the raw fire in her striking eyes, the deepening of the shadows around them.