Page 61 of One in a Million
“Then make me a counteroffer,” she said. “I can’t go to my father anymore. And even if she’d give it to me, I’d rather eat rocks than go to my mother.”
“Try fifty.”
“Fifty thousand?” Her jaw dropped. “You know that if I can’t pay you, the bracelet is only worth what you can get from a pawnshop.”
“Then I’ll have to settle for the satisfaction of seeing you in handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit, won’t I? That would be worth something.”
As he spoke, the suspicion that had crept into Jasmine’s awareness became cold certainty. If she’d believed that she could manipulate Charlie, she was wrong. When he’d found her bracelet amid the debris, any love he might have felt for her had turned to hatred. He would show her no mercy.
It was time to play her last card.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to speak the words. “Then I have one last offer to make—the most valuable thing I own. It was a gift from my father, so it’s paid for. And it’s in mint condition, not a scratch . . .”
She paused, holding her breath as she waited for Charlie to reach his own conclusion. His gaze shifted to the sleek red Corvette parked at the foot of the steps. A greedy smile crept over his face.
“I have the title in my purse,” Jasmine said. “But before I sign it and hand you the keys, I want to see that bracelet.”
Charlie’s grin showed his crooked, stained teeth. Lifting the bracelet out of his vest pocket, he laid it in front of her. “Allow me to drive you home in my new car,” he said.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Lila’s appointment with her lawyer was scheduled for 2:00P.M.in Abilene. She’d planned extra time for lunch in a cozy Italian restaurant that she liked. The food was good, and the quiet time was badly needed after the bedlam the ranch had become.
She’d debated taking along the evidence her investigator had turned up. Now that Frank was gone and divorce was no longer an issue, it seemed beside the point even to keep it.
Still, in case some question about Frank’s behavior arose, it wouldn’t hurt to have them with her. Decision made, she slipped the envelope into her purse and went downstairs to her white Porsche, which had been freshly washed and brought around to the front of the house for her. She climbed into the car, laid her purse on the passenger seat, and fastened her seat belt. With the powerful engine purring, she had soon left the ranch behind.
The sun was climbing toward midday with no clouds in the sky. The drive home in the afternoon heat would be blistering. But she could always stay longer in town and return at a later hour—maybe go shopping after the appointment, get her hair done, or even take in a movie. Right now, the thought of sitting by herself, munching buttered popcorn in a dark, air-conditioned theater, had some genuine appeal.
But the thought of a brief escape couldn’t stop the worries from creeping in—the unseen monster that could strike at any time, the threat to her ownership of the house and horses, the FBI agent who appeared to be building a murder case against her—and the actual murderer, who could be anyone in her so-called family, even the one man she’d come to depend on—the man she had no choice except to trust.
She was halfway to Willow Bend, where the road branched off toward the freeway, when she spotted something ahead. Brown and white, the size of a small deer, the animal was standing in the middle of the road as if rooted to the spot.
It was a goat, she realized as the car drew closer. Probably one of Charlie’s escapees that didn’t have the sense to get out of the way. Her fist hit the horn and gave it several loud honks. The goat didn’t budge.
Her foot pressed the brake. When nothing happened, she slammed it down hard. The pedal sank to the floor, but the car kept on hurtling forward. She couldn’t stop or even slow down. She was going to hit the creature, probably kill it, and wreck her car.
Seized by panic, she swung hard right. The tires went off the shoulder. The Porsche tilted sharply. Lila screamed as the car rolled down the steep embankment, over and over. As it crunched into the bar ditch, Lila’s world went dark.
* * *
It was Mariah who took the call from the highway patrol. Lila had a possible concussion. She’d been transported to the nearby clinic in Willow Bend for observation. The Porsche, which had rolled and landed on its side, was badly damaged. If Lila hadn’t been buckled in, she could have been killed.
Mariah passed the news on to Sam, who happened to be nearby. Concerned, but welcoming the chance to learn something new, he volunteered to check the condition of the vehicle and retrieve any personal belongings that might have been left behind.
After clearing his identity with the police, who agreed to give him access on condition that an officer meet him at the wreck, he went back to the bungalow to get a few things he needed.
Jasmine had returned earlier, walking in from the front gate without her beloved Corvette. Ignoring Sam, she’d gone up to her room and emerged in a black bikini. The last he’d seen of her, she was in the pool, swimming furious laps.
Guessing what had happened at Charlie’s place, Sam had known better than to question her. Jasmine had paid a bitter price for her adventure, and she was dealing with it in her own way. When she felt like talking, she would come to him.
Darrin’s Mercedes was parked in front of his mother’s bungalow. Sam could only hope that Frank’s son was doing his job, protecting the cattle and the cowboys from the danger that prowled the pastures. No one would rest easy until the creature was dead. But right now he had his own job to do.
Leaving Mariah to tell Roper about Lila’s accident, Sam collected his evidence kit, climbed into the Jeep, and left the ranch. It didn’t make sense that Lila would lose control of the car on the familiar road between the ranch and Willow Bend. There were some places where the shoulder was narrow, and the bank steep. But navigated at a reasonable speed, they couldn’t be called dangerous.
Had something gone wrong with Lila’s car? The steering, maybe? Or the brakes? But that didn’t make sense either. The Porsche was fairly new and had to be in good condition. Maybe the wreck wasn’t an accident.
Ahead, he could see the police car pulled off on the left side of the road. The right-hand lane here had only a narrow shoulder that dropped off steeply. That had to be where the car had gone off.