Watch Me (16 page)

“You don’t remember Amy coming to the door? Or maybe giving Cain a call?”

“No. I heard voices outside, very briefly. But I had no idea it was Amy.”

“Was that before or after the shot?”

“Before.”

“What happened afterward?”

“Nothing for several minutes. Then there was another shot.”

“When did Cain return to the cabin?”

Sheridan tightened her fingers, which were interlaced in her lap. “After the second shot.”

“How long after?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes.”

“What do you think he was doing during that time?”

Sheridan remembered seeing Cain enter the clearing, covered in blood; remembered the terror that’d gripped her until she’d realized he wasn’t hurt. She’d already watched his stepbrother die. She didn’t want to see another death—especially his. “He followed the sound of that shot—and discovered Amy lying in the road.”

“He told you this?”

“I’m guessing.”

“Exactly. You don’t know what happened once he left the house.”

“I know he couldn’t have tranquilized his own dogs. He was inside with me when they fell silent.”

“He could’ve done it earlier. Haven’t you ever taken a sleeping pill? Some sedatives take time to work. Are you telling me he didn’t go outside at all that evening?”

She couldn’t make such a statement. Cain always went outside. He fed the dogs, let them in or out of their pen, watered or weeded his garden, performed small maintenance chores. “It wasn’t him,” she said.

Peterson meticulously rearranged the calendar, the pencil holder and the steno pad on the desk. “How are the dogs, by the way?”

“They’re fine.”

“All of them?”

“I think so. Quixote seemed a little lethargic this morning, but I’m pretty sure that was just because the sedative hadn’t completely worn off.”

He smiled, but Sheridan could tell it wasn’t sincere. “Where do you suppose this person got a tranquilizer gun?”

“Cain checked. They used his.”

“So now you’re telling me Cain’s dogs were shot with his own gun.” That smile was back.

“Whoever did it broke into Cain’s clinic and took the gun. You can see the damaged lock, if you want.”

“We’ll get to that in a minute. I’m still wondering about the dogs. They didn’t go crazy with a stranger on the property? I thought they woke Cain up with their barking when you were attacked, which happened much farther away.”

“Whoever did this knew how to handle them, I guess. Maybe he tossed some steaks inside their pen before he
broke into the clinic. That would distract them until he could get the gun, don’t you think?”

“I’m thinking it would be pretty easy for Cain to break his own lock.”

“You seem pretty eager to believe Cain had something to do with Amy’s death,” she said.

“And you seem pretty defensive of him,” he retorted.

“He’s been a good friend to me.”

“A friend.” He nodded slowly. “I see. You’re sure there isn’t more to your relationship?”

“Like…”

“A closeness that would motivate you to lie for him?”

“I’m not lying!”

“But you’ve lied about your relationship with him in the past, correct?”

Sheridan unclasped her hands and curled her nails into her palms. “I didn’t broadcast the fact that we slept together. There was no reason to do so.”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully, but it was all for show. Officer Peterson seemed to think he was being clever. “Will you answer one more question for me, Ms. Kohl?”

“What is it?” She felt cornered and uneasy. She wanted Amy’s killer found; she wanted the man who shot Jason and attacked her captured and punished. Instead, the cops were searching for evidence to charge
Cain
.

“How many people can you name who’d know which kind of sedative to use—and how much—in order to put a dog to sleep but not kill it?”

She glared at him.

“Ms. Kohl?”

“None,” she admitted. “But all the supplies were
right there. And the amounts wouldn’t be hard to figure out, especially if whoever shot Amy came prepared with a little information from the Internet and wasn’t particularly worried whether or not the dogs died.”

“You just said they survived. All three of them.”

“Maybe we got lucky.”

“Or whoever did it knew what he was doing.”

“So now you’re saying Cain killed his own stepbrother, nearly killed me twice
and
shot Amy?”

“You tell me,” he said.

“
Why
would he do all of this?”

“He shot you and Jason out of jealousy.”

She rolled her eyes but he lifted a hand as he continued.

“And he got away with it. What you told the police back then wasn’t enough to cause him trouble, and you went away. It was over. Done. But then someone found that rifle, which he probably never expected, and you came back. It’s logical to assume he’d be spooked.”

“So why didn’t he finish me off when he was beating me in the woods?” she challenged.

“He heard or saw something that led him to believe he’d been spotted, so he acted as your savior instead.”

“Who could’ve seen him?”

“A hunter. A camper. A hiker.” He paused. “Or maybe it was Amy.”

Sheridan came to her feet. “
What?
Amy just happened to be randomly patrolling the forest near Cain’s place at
midnight
and stumbled upon him beating me?”

“She went up there all the time. She was there last night, wasn’t she?”

“Because she was making sure whoever hurt me wasn’t lurking around. That’s what she told Cain. Why else would she be there so late?”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Knowing Cain, what do you think?”

They’d stop at nothing to disparage him. “He hasn’t been sleeping with her.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because of what Amy told me. Besides, she was a police officer. If she saw Cain doing something he shouldn’t—”

“She was a cop, but she was a woman first. Maybe you don’t know how much she loved him.”

Sheridan did know. Unfortunately, she also knew that Amy wasn’t the only one. “You’re saying she was covering for him.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Until last night. Maybe she threatened to come out with the truth and that’s why he killed her.”

W
hen Peterson and Sheridan emerged from Ned’s office, Sheridan didn’t look happy. She sent him a warning glance, but Cain already knew things were going to get worse before they got better.

His stepfather was acting more remote, more formal, than ever. And he’d obviously come to the station for a reason.

“Cain, do you mind giving me a few minutes?” John motioned toward the now-empty office. “I’d like to talk to you alone.”

Cain
did
mind. His emotions were so complex when it came to John Wyatt that even he didn’t know how he felt most of the time. There’d been periods in the past when Cain had wanted to please him, to finally achieve the love and acceptance his stepbrothers took for granted. But everything changed once his mother got sick. Almost from the day of her diagnosis, John began to act as if she didn’t exist. Maybe everyone else thought he was a saint, but Cain knew what he’d really been like.

With a curt nod, he headed into the office, then watched his stepfather slip past him and around the desk to take Ned’s chair.

“Sit down,” John said.

Cain didn’t want to sit down. He was filled with too much nervous energy. First, that rifle had been found in his cabin. Then Sheridan had returned to town and nearly been killed. And Amy—God, Amy. Now that the shock was wearing off, what he felt about her death was a bleak sadness, a sense of waste.

“I’m fine the way I am.” He folded his arms as he leaned against the wall, waiting to see what his stepfather would hit him with this time.

“Ned called me this morning,” John said.

“Why would Ned call you?” Cain hated the sullen note that crept into his voice.

“He thought I should have a word with you before you spoke to anyone else.”

“Spoke to anyone else about what?”

“About last night.”

“I don’t see how Amy’s murder involves you.”

“It does.”

“Because…”

“Because I cared about her, too, damn it! She was like a daughter to me even before she married you.”

Amy did anything she could to worm her way into his family’s affections, to gain more ground in her attempt to possess him. Cain remembered her stopping by to clean John’s house, bake him cookies, drop off some movies she thought he’d like. Cain had ignored it all, but John had reveled in her devotion and even suggested to Cain that he was foolish to “let her go.”

Actually, she
used
to do all those things. It was hard to grasp that she was really gone.

“Beyond that, Ned believes, and I tend to agree with him,” John was saying, “that there’s got to be a connection between what’s going on at your place these days and what happened twelve years ago.”

What’s going on at your place…
Cain couldn’t ignore the blame that tinged those words. “I agree, but I’m not that link,” Cain said.

“Sometimes people make mistakes.”

“Murder is more than a mistake.”

John ignored his response. “It might feel as if there’s no way out, but—”

“Just stop.”

“If you’d listen to me and quit being difficult…”

“You think I killed Amy. How am I supposed to react?”

John’s face flushed. This interview was gearing up to be the same power struggle they’d so often had in the past.

But then John closed his eyes and seemed to summon some patience. “I want you to know something.”

Cain didn’t bother asking what. It was coming whether he wanted to hear it or not.

“I want you to understand,
truly understand,
how hard it is to live each day without Jason. I miss him so much there are mornings when—” his eyes filled with tears “—mornings when I can hardly get out of bed.”

“I miss him, too,” Cain said, but he knew those words would sound insincere. John felt only his own pain; he’d never believe that Cain was capable of deeper emotion.

“It’s not the same.”

“Why not? Because I can’t love as well as you do?”

“Quit putting words in my mouth!”

“I’m merely clarifying what you really said.”

“All I mean is that it’s difficult not knowing the identity of the man who killed my son, not having any closure, any sense of justice,” he snapped. “I’m asking you to help me for once, damn it!”

How could he help? There was nothing Cain could do to assuage the pain John felt, nothing anyone could do. Cain wanted to know the identity of the man who’d killed Jason, too. Whoever it was had taken the only family member who’d loved him—besides Marshall, who’d been dealing with the onset of Alzheimer’s at the time. “You think I did it,” he said flatly.

John swallowed. “I’m beginning to wonder….”

“No, you’ve decided. That’s why you’re here. You believe Ned.”

“Did you, Cain?
Did you kill my son?
”

The accusation brought a flood of the old anger and frustration. “No!” he said, but he knew John wouldn’t believe him.

“That’s it?”

“What more can I say?”

“I know things have never been smooth between us, Cain. I know you don’t have a lot of respect for me. But I want you to understand that I did my best by you. When your mom got cancer, I was as devastated as you were—”

Cain raised a hand. “Stop! Don’t tell me how broken up you were by my mother’s last years. Not when I found that love letter you wrote to my high school English teacher barely two weeks after my mother’s first chemo treatment. Not when I spotted you at the
school, hoping to talk to your new love interest while my mother was wasting away.”

His stepfather set his jaw. “I was reeling. I couldn’t cope. Don’t you understand that? I had children who still needed to be raised. I didn’t know what I was going to do without her.”

“So you were busy lining up her replacement?”

John shoved away from the desk and stood. “You little prick. You enjoy making me look bad, don’t you?”

“Is that all you care about, John? How you look to other people?”

“I cared about your mother, too!”

Cared?
He couldn’t even say he loved her. Because he hadn’t. Not in the end. Or, if he had, he’d loved himself more. But that came as no surprise. “Then, where were you?” Cain asked. “Where were you when she needed you?”

It was Cain who’d sat with her when the pain grew too great. Cain who’d tried to make her comfortable and dealt with the hospice care workers. Cain who’d refused to give up hope and hung on as long as possible. His stepbrothers and stepfather had acted as if nothing was wrong. They’d always had one excuse or another for being elsewhere. Even Jason and Marshall. Jason was too busy with school. And Marshall was still coping with Mildred’s death; he was never the same afterward.

“Maybe I couldn’t stand to watch it!”

Cain wished he could believe that. But it was an excuse. Eventually, his English teacher had admitted to him that John had been pursuing her for months. After
learning that, Cain had spent an afternoon in her bed as a silent form of revenge. And she’d wanted him to come back. But by then the whole situation had turned Cain’s stomach and he’d refused every request to “help with the yard work after school.”

Karen Stevens had moved a few years after he graduated but she’d returned to Whiterock about six months ago. Now she was teaching at the high school again—and dating John. So John was finally getting what he wanted.

Distantly, Cain wondered what his stepfather would say if he found out Cain had slept with Karen. For one reckless moment, Cain was tempted to throw it in his face, to strike back. But he knew that in the end, he’d only feel worse, because he was ashamed of it and because it would hurt Karen. “If you expect my sympathy, you’re not going to get it,” he said.

“I don’t want your sympathy,” John spat. “I want the truth. It’s time to come clean, Cain. It’s the only way we can heal, the only way this community can get past what’s happened.” He reached out to grab Cain in a beseeching manner, and Cain forced himself to allow it, to do nothing more than stare down at the long fingers curling around his forearm. The only father he’d ever known believed he was a murderer. But then, John had never been much of a father….

“Think of Owen and Robert. Think of Grandpa.”

“I didn’t do it.”

His stepfather’s grip tightened. “Please!”

“I didn’t do it!” He peeled John’s hand away, then let the door slam against the inside wall as he stalked out.

Sheridan had heard Cain shout those last words. The whole office had.

“Yeah, right,” Peterson muttered under his breath, but he didn’t intercede. He didn’t have the chance. Ned came in at that moment and drew his gun as soon as he saw Cain.

“You son of a bitch!” he screamed, aiming the pistol at Cain’s chest.

Sheridan’s mouth went dry as Cain stopped, heightened alertness brightening his eyes.

John Wyatt appeared in the doorway of Ned’s office, looking pale and drawn.

“Chief, what’re you doing?” Peterson’s voice was low, cautious. “Put the gun down.”

“He killed her.” Ned’s voice cracked with grief. “All she ever did was love him. All she ever wanted from him was a little bit of attention. And he killed her.”

A muscle flexed in Cain’s cheek, but he didn’t deny Ned’s charges. He didn’t respond at all.

“He can’t control who he loves any more than you can.” When Sheridan stepped in front of Cain, he shoved her to the side, even tried to put her behind him. But she fought to stay where she was.

“You’re not thinking right.” Jerking out of Cain’s grasp, she approached Ned. “You’re exhausted and you’ve been up too long. Put the gun away before you get yourself in trouble.”

“Sheridan, you’re going to get hurt.” Cain obviously wasn’t pleased with her intervention, but she ignored him.

“Move.” Ned waved the gun, indicating that he wanted her out of the way. “I won’t let him get off this
time. I won’t see her buried and gone and watch him walk through town as free as a bird.”

Sheridan expected Cain’s stepfather to chime in. It was one thing to wonder if Cain was guilty, another to want him dead. But John didn’t say anything. He stood there looking shocked, his gaze shifting from Ned to Cain and back again, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“He didn’t do it.” Sheridan knew what Cain had been like after he’d found his ex-wife last night, how upset and hurt he’d been despite his frustration with her relentless pursuit.

So how did she convince Amy’s twin brother of that? With those dark circles under his eyes and what little hair he had left standing up on either side of his head, Ned looked like a crazy man. She didn’t think she could make him understand.

“He did it!”

“We don’t know that for sure, Ned. Not yet.” Peterson inched closer. “Why don’t you give me the gun so we can do this the right way? If Cain’s guilty, we’ll get him. You can bet your ass. I won’t sleep until I do. I loved Amy, too. This whole town did.”

John finally broke his silence. “Ned, stop it. Think about what you’re doing. We’ve suffered enough losses.”

Sheridan was all too aware of what he didn’t add—that Cain would never hurt anyone. John’s suspicion of Cain made it difficult to defend his stepson.

Sweat dropped into Ned’s eyes, causing him to squint and blink rapidly. “He did it. I know he did.” He reached into his pocket and tossed a letter onto the floor. “Here’s proof.”

Sheridan was tempted to pick it up, but Ned still had his gun pointed at Cain. She was afraid to allow him a clear shot. Instead, she watched as Officer Peterson retrieved the paper and read it aloud.

Peterson slowly lowered the paper. “Where’d you find this?”

“It was in her purse. Along with a stack of pictures of
him.”

“Was she blackmailing you, Cain?” Peterson asked.

“No. She never gave me that note or any other like it. I don’t know what the hell it’s even referring to.”

“She wanted him so badly.” Ned’s voice was a half wail. “Ever since I can remember. She was miserable. Miserable because of you!” His hand shook as if he itched to pull the trigger.

Sheridan cut him off when he tried to get around her. “But he didn’t kill her,” she said quietly. “This note doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means she had something on him—that’s what gave him the motivation to kill her! Get out of my way!”

Sheridan didn’t move. “Amy was desperate to see him and was using any means at her disposal. That’s all. If you’d calm down for a minute, you’d see that, Ned. What about the pictures? She was obsessed with him, couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

Peterson set the note on the desk. “I’m afraid she’s right, Ned. How do you know you’re interpreting it correctly? It
could
be that Amy had something on him. But it could just as easily be that she was threatening to get him into trouble he didn’t deserve. For heaven’s sake, put the gun down.”

“He blew her head off,” Ned said, but he was no longer shouting. With tears filling his eyes, he finally lowered the gun.

Peterson rushed forward. “Come on over here and sit down, Chief.”

Sheridan turned to Cain. It was time to leave. Ned needed a chance to deal with his sister’s death, and Sheridan wanted to get Cain out of there. What if Ned changed his mind?

But when she tugged on Cain’s arm, he didn’t respond. He was staring at his stepfather, whose expression put a hard lump in her own chest. Maybe it was just for a second, but it was clear, even to her, that John had been hoping for another outcome.

Cain sat in front of the television, trying to get involved in the baseball game he’d turned on while Sheridan napped. She wasn’t strong enough to make it through a whole day without a little sleep. But now that she was awake and sitting on the other end of the sofa, all he could think about was pulling her to him and burying his face in the indentation above her collarbone or running his lips over her soft, smooth skin. She could make him forget everything—his antipathy toward his stepfather, Amy’s bloody remains, Ned’s hand shaking with the desire to
pull the trigger.
Everything
. When they were making love last night, the rest of the world could’ve been destroyed and he wouldn’t have noticed. Or cared.