Page 64 of Lie for a Million

Greenway braced the stock of the rifle against his shoulder. Even at a distance, Sam could see that his aim was off. His finger squeezed the trigger. In the next instant, the deafening shot shattered the night.

As the confusion cleared, the bellowing elephant wheeled and bolted off, scattering the beaters in her path. The recoil had knocked Greenway onto his back. As Sam fought his way toward him, the aging hunter sat up, massaging his bruised shoulder and looking stunned. The gun lay where he’d dropped it.

Charlie lay face-up in the dust, his torso blasted by a shot that packed enough force to penetrate the armored hide of a rhino. He wasn’t moving. Sam forced himself to look at him. Checking his vitals would be a waste of time. No human could survive that kind of damage.

Seeing Charlie’s remains, and realizing what he’d done, Greenway curled into a shaking ball with his knees pulled against his chest. His shoulders heaved with silent sobs.

The hogs had scattered. The elephant, panicked but unhurt, was charging away through the thick scrub. Sam shouted at the workers to track her until she became calm and could be lured back to the compound with food.

He would make it his responsibility to see that she and the other animals went to safe places. Jasmine should know what to do. She would be happy to help him. If there was an inquest into Charlie’s death, he would verify, as an eyewitness, that the shooting had been an accident and, except for incompetence and a bad case of nerves, Greenway was blameless.

Sam had just made the call to 911 when he heard a low groan from behind him. He turned. Charlie was looking at him with slitted eyes in a bloodless face. Incredibly, he was alive. But Sam’s experience with severe injuries told him the man was on the verge of dying.

Crouching, Sam knelt over him. “Hang on, Charlie. The ambulance is on the way,” he said.

“Too late . . .” Charlie’s mouth twisted into a hideous grin. “You think you won, you sonofabitch . . .” Every syllable he spoke was bought with excruciating effort. “But you had questions . . . Did I kill my grandma? Did I murder Frank? . . . Now you’ll never know. You’ll go to your grave wondering.” His laugh ended in a gurgle. “See you in hell, Agent . . .”

His expression froze in death.

* * *

The muffled ringing of a phone woke Jasmine in the night. She reached for her cell phone on the nightstand. Only then did she realize that the sound was coming from her dresser drawer, where she’d hidden the burner under a stack of underwear.

The phone was still ringing. Only Sam had the number. She vaulted out of bed and flung herself across the room to pull the phone out of the drawer.

“Sam?” She was muzzy-headed and out of breath.

“Yes, it’s me. How are you?”

Jasmine hesitated. “I’m fine,” she lied. “But you wouldn’t be calling me just to ask. Is something wrong?”

“Charlie’s dead.” Sam gave her a few seconds for the news to sink in. “He was shot during a hunt. I saw it happen. It was an accident. Now I need your help.”

“The animals!” She was already ahead of him. “Are they all right?”

“For now. I paid the workers to feed them. But they need places to go. Sanctuaries, rescues, anyone who can shelter them. There’s the usual menagerie of hoof stock and cats. And there’s an elephant, an old girl who’s been through a rough time. I was hoping you’d have some idea who to call.”

“An elephant? Good heavens! Yes, I know people with connections who can help. I’ll make the calls for you first thing in the morning. I’m sorry I can’t be there to take charge. I can’t leave my mother.”

” How is your mother?” he asked.

“I don’t really know, Sam. Sometimes she seems fine. But then she has these headaches that are so bad she can’t even get out of bed. She won’t see a doctor. I can’t make her go. But I can’t leave. If she gets worse, or even dies, I’ll need to be here for her.”

“I understand, and I’m sorry.” He paused. “I love you, Jasmine. I miss you like crazy.”

“I love you, too,” she said, knowing she couldn’t tell him what was really going on or how scared she felt.

“We’ll get through this,” he said. “Just know that I’ll be here for you.”

“I know. I’ll make those calls. It’ll give me something positive to do.”

“Thanks. Give the rescue people my number. I’ll make sure they get to the right place.”

Through the wall, Jasmine heard a stirring in the next room, where her mother slept. The ringing phone may have awakened her. “I’ve got to go,” she said, forcing herself to end the call.

As she hid the burner phone again and closed the drawer, a wave of emotion crashed over her. She pressed her hands to her face, feeling the tears. Sam was the best thing ever to come into her crazy, messed-up life. She ached with love for him. But the hope of a future together was fading with every day she spent here—in a place that had become a prison.

“Jasmine!” Her mother was calling. Pulling on her robe, Jasmine hurried down the hall to the next room. The door was closed, as Madeleine preferred it, but the walls were thin. She had probably overheard much of her daughter’s conversation.

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