Page 42 of Lie for a Million

Nick sighed. “You’ll find out sooner or later, so I guess it might as well be now. I’ve got prostate cancer, Sam. And it’s not the slow kind that can last inside a man for years. It’s a fast mover, already spreading. My doctor’s pushing me to start chemo. But first, I want to leave things here in good hands.”

The news struck Sam like a blow to the gut. How could that be right? Nick had always been so strong, so wise. This was the last thing he’d expected to hear.

“Nick, don’t put this off,” he said. “I’ll quit the ranch and come back tomorrow if I need to. Your life matters ten times more than finding the person who killed Frank Culhane.”

Nick shook his head. “It’s my call to make. I’m scheduled to start treatment the first of September. I’ll be needing you here before then. Otherwise . . .” He left the thought for Sam to finish.

Sam calculated the time in his head. The need to be here and free Nick for treatment gave him just a few weeks to find Frank Culhane’s killer. If the lab found incriminating evidence on the syringe he’d turned in, the case could be wrapped up early. But he couldn’t count on that. He only knew that from here on out he would need to work harder and smarter. Otherwise he’d be forced to walk away with the case unsolved and his own reputation tarnished.

But in light of Nick’s illness, none of that could be allowed to matter.

“Don’t worry, Nick, I’ll be here,” he promised. “I won’t make you wait. But meanwhile, I’ll do whatever it takes to put Frank Culhane’s killer behind bars.”

* * *

Roper took the chestnut stallion from a full gallop to a perfect sliding stop. Fire Dance was a natural performer. He’d racked up good money for his owners. But learning to trust a new rider in a new place, especially after the attack from a rival, had taken time. At last, the horse was coming around. When he was good, he was flawless. The only question now was one of consistency. With the Run for a Million less than two weeks away, some intensive work lay ahead.

He walked the stallion around the arena to cool him, then dismounted and turned him over to a groom to be showered and put away. He still needed time with One in a Million, who’d be coming to Vegas as his backup horse. The big roan had settled down since his assault on Fire Dance. But it remained to be seen whether the two stallions could be trailered to Las Vegas together.

As a professional trainer, Roper was allowed to bring three horses. His second backup horse for the event was a filly, a daughter of Million Dollar Baby via embryo transplant to a brood mare. Her sire had been Blood Diamond, a stallion from the Four Sixes Ranch. Her registered name, Million Dollar Diamond, reflected her pedigree. But around the stable, she was known by her nickname, Milly. Already a futurity winner, with her mother’s white face and blazing talent, Milly was full of promise. But she was young and inexperienced—a long shot, if needed, to fill in for one of the stallions.

Waiting for One in a Million to be brought out, Roper paused to drink from his water bottle. From where he stood, he could see the house, with its patio and pool in the rear. He hadn’t seen Lila since yesterday when he’d brought her home after their talk.

He remembered the sensual magic of their long, deep kisses. Things were finally good between them, with the promise of more, Roper told himself. But a buried instinct whispered a warning. Something was just waiting to go wrong.

Maybe that was the trouble. Life had taught him that nothing could be counted on. And the higher your hopes, the harder you’d fall when fate came along to send everything crashing down around you.

For now, he would keep his distance, letting her come to him if she needed him. Lila had enough on her mind, with her fight to keep the ranch and the demands of Frank’s pregnant mistress.

He remembered the photograph Sam had shown him—the woman’s dark hair and her hand, bedecked with cheap rings and long fake nails, resting against Frank’s jacket.

Something clicked in Roper’s memory. He had seen her someplace else, and he suddenly remembered where.

The jail—he’d been waiting to speak with his brother, and she’d been there ahead of him to visit the prisoner in the next cell. He remembered the shouting and the swearing from the adjoining room before she’d stalked out and fled into the night.

Had she spoken to him on the way out? Maybe not. The memory had faded. But Roper was sure of what he’d seen—the hair, the nails, the rings . . . it had to be her.

He had to let Lila know.

* * *

After opening a bank account, Crystal had used her new debit card to get her hair and nails done at the beauty salon. She’d opted for eyelash extensions, too, even though she didn’t really need them. When she looked in the mirror, the woman gazing back at her was as glamorous as a movie star—well worth the money she’d spent.

She’d also spent a few hundred dollars on clothes and shoes. Not that Willow Bend had the classiest selection. She could do more shopping later at the big mall in Abilene. She was going to need maternity clothes, too, but that could wait. At least she wouldn’t be needing them for long.

Still driving Judd’s piece-of-crap car, she passed a white Ford Focus pulled off the road with a hand-lettered For Sale sign on it. She called the phone number. An hour later she was driving to the courthouse to register the title. Crystal was no stranger to cars. This one was in decent condition, and she’d talked the price down from $10,000 to $7,500. It wasn’t a Porsche like Lila Culhane had, but at least it was white.

She’d parked Judd’s car on the shoulder of the road and left it there. As far as she knew, Judd was still in jail, awaiting trial. The least she could do was tell him where to find the car. And she wasn’t above letting him see how far she’d come in the world. She would enjoy laughing in his face and walking away.

The waiting room at the jail was empty. After the woman at the desk patted her down and took her new knockoff designer purse, Crystal walked back to the room that contained the cells. Today, Judd was the only prisoner. Rumpled and unshaven, with a ketchup stain on his orange jumpsuit, he glared at her through the bars.

“Well, look at you, missy,” he said, sneering. “All gussied up like a hundred-dollar whore. Did you rob a bank, or find yourself a new sugar daddy?”

“Neither, you butthead. I’m making better choices, that’s all,” Crystal said. “I just came to tell you I won’t be needing your car anymore. It’s parked on the shoulder, out by the power station. I gave the key to the lady at the desk. You can pick up your old junker when you get out of jail, if it hasn’t been towed.”

For an instant, he looked as if he wanted to strangle her. Then his anger fell away. He gazed at her through the bars with the hangdog expression she’d once thought was cute. Now Crystal found it annoying.

“Come back to me, baby,” he said. “I wanted to die when you left me. Some rich old bastard can’t love you the way I do. Nobody can.”

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