Page 14 of Lie for a Million

“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 readUnknown 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.

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