Watch Me (2 page)

W
hen the hospital paged him to the nurses’ station, Cain thought the county dispatcher had finally located Ned Smith. But it was Owen Wyatt, the older of the two stepbrothers he had left, trying to get hold of him. Cain had called Owen from the hospital as soon as he’d arrived, at least forty-five minutes after the emergency helicopter had transported Sheridan. Someone back home needed to know what had happened. And, as the only doctor in town and the family member Cain liked best, Owen was the most likely candidate for helping him deal with the situation in Ned’s absence.

“I got your message,” Owen said.

“Let me call you from a pay phone.”

“Wait—what’s going on?”

Cain glanced at the nurses trying to work around him. “I’ll call you back.” He didn’t have a cell. At times like this he regretted it, but he didn’t get good reception where he lived and worked, so it wasn’t worth the expense.

Five minutes later, he stood in the lobby, leaning against the wall closest to the pay phone, and had Owen on the line again. “Where were you?” he demanded,
almost before his stepbrother, who was four years his junior, could say hello.

“What do you mean?”

“It was three-thirty the last time I tried you. I expected to drag you from your bed. What, were you on a house call?” It should’ve surprised Cain to hear his answer. But it didn’t.

“I was on a house call, all right. Robert came home drunk and drove into Dad’s gardening shed. I had to help get him out of his old Camaro and stitch the gash over his temple.”

Cain’s other stepbrother had a drinking problem and was always in some kind of trouble. He was the youngest in the family, but at twenty-five he was old enough to take care of himself. Instead, he lived in a trailer on his father’s property, spent every waking hour playing online games rather than trying to hold down a job, and when he wasn’t gaming, he partied. Cain had no sympathy for him. Maybe Cain had been a hell-raiser in high school, but he’d been on his own since he turned eighteen. He’d put himself through college and had never expected anyone else to clean up his messes. “Why didn’t you answer when I tried your cell?”

“I left it in the car. You should’ve seen Robert.” He made a noise of disgust. “What an idiot.”

“Nothing new there.”

“No. So…what’s going on?”

The adrenaline that had fueled his mad race to the hospital was dwindling, allowing fatigue to set in. “Someone attacked Sheridan Kohl a few hours ago and left her for dead.”

A short pause followed. “Did you say Sheridan Kohl?”

“That’s right.”

“I’d heard she was coming back to town, but I hadn’t realized she’d arrived. And…who would do such a thing?”

“I have no idea.”

There was another pause. “How do you know about it? Her being hurt, I mean.”

“I found her. Whoever attacked her dumped her near the old cabin at the far edge of the property.”

Owen surprised Cain by cursing. Generally the straitlaced type, he used big words, not cuss words.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“This makes me uncomfortable.”

That was an understatement, and understatements were far more typical of Owen. “You’re telling me.”

“Have you called Ned?”

“Of course. First thing.”

“Well, considering the way you two feel about each other, I had to ask.”

Cain had gone to school with Ned, but they’d never been friends. After Jason’s murder, Cain had been so busy self-destructing he hadn’t had time for friends—real friends, anyway. He’d partied harder than ever, risked life and limb with crazy stunts, fought anyone and everyone who’d venture to take him on and messed around with a different girl almost every weekend. Then there was his brief marriage to Ned’s sister. That alone made it a damn shame the Smith twins had become fifty-percent of Whiterock’s police force. “I called, but I haven’t been able to reach him,” Cain said.

“Why not?”

“How the hell should I know?” An old woman entered the lobby and slumped into one of the plastic chairs. Cain moved the handset closer to his mouth and lowered his voice. “If you want the official answer, he’s temporarily ‘unavailable.’”

“He’s probably with his new secretary.”

“Mona?” As far as Cain was concerned, a guy would have to be drunk and blind to get naked with Ned’s secretary. She didn’t even keep herself clean.

“That’s my guess. She doesn’t look like much, but from what I hear she’s willing to do anything. I saw him feel her up as she was getting into her car at the Roadhouse last week.” Owen clicked his tongue. “Poor Brian. He needs to leave her.”

“I think he should thank Ned and hand her over.” The woman in the lobby looked up, and Cain faced the wall.

Owen cleared his throat. “You know what people will think when they hear about this, don’t you?”

Scowling, Cain shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t care what they think.”

“No, you never have. So let me spell it out for you. It was only three weeks ago that the two Wallup boys found that rifle in the cellar of
your
old cabin.”

The rifle that subsequent ballistics tests proved to be the one that had killed Jason. How could Cain forget? “I’m aware of that. But it’s ridiculous. I didn’t touch her. I didn’t even know she was back until I found her lying in a heap, covered with blood and dirt and leaves.”

Owen released an audible sigh. “No one’ll believe that. Word that she was planning to return has been circulating for the past week.”

Cain wished he’d taken the time to change. His hair, which was getting a bit long around the ears and neck, had dried, but his jeans were still damp enough to be uncomfortable. “I’m telling you, I didn’t hear about it. Besides, she hasn’t been back in twelve years. Why would she come now?”

“Why do you think? Someone told her about the rifle.”

Cain assumed it was Ned. He and Ned had been rivals ever since Cain had broken Amy’s heart. “Why would that bring her back?”

“Because she wants to solve the case.”

“You mean she wants to see it solved.”

“No. When Ned told me she was coming, I looked her up on the Internet. She’s part of a victims’ help charity in California.”

“So she’s a social worker?”

“More like a caseworker. About five years ago, she started The Last Stand with two other women, also victims of violent crime. They each have different specialties. Sheridan’s bio said she handles the bookkeeping but also works with private investigators, police, psychologists, self-defense experts, what have you, to find missing persons, protect the innocent, put violent offenders behind bars, do anything that’s needed, really. I got the impression she knows a lot about the criminal-justice world, that she’s sort of a jack-of-all-trades. I mentioned her victims’ work to Dad. I can’t believe he didn’t tell you.”

The fact that his stepfather hadn’t mentioned Sheridan’s background or her impending visit made Cain a little apprehensive. It was something they might’ve
discussed—before the discovery of that rifle. “Realistically, what’s she going to be able to do?” he asked. “Nothing’s changed. That rifle went missing before Jason was shot. Bailey Watts reported it stolen five days prior. And it’s been wiped clean of prints. We don’t know any more than we did the day we buried him.”

“Ned thinks he’s found a previously overlooked suspect, and he’s gathering evidence.” He paused. “And that suspect—quite conveniently—is you.”

Cain fidgeted with the change in his pocket. “Anyone could’ve put that rifle in the cellar. The cabin’s been empty since I finished the new house six years ago. I’ve only used it to store a few things or spend an occasional night.”

“I’m not going to lie to you, Cain. There’s been a lot of discussion lately, ever since that rifle was found, about your state of mind after your mom died. About how you behaved.”

Cain had behaved badly. He knew it, and so did everyone else. But since his real father had skipped out before Cain was ever born and hadn’t left a forwarding address, Cain had had nowhere to turn after his mother was gone. He’d been reduced to asking his stepfather if he could go on living in the house until he finished his senior year. John had agreed, but Cain had been tolerated about as well as a noxious odor. “I was angry.”

“You cut classes, you started drag racing, you slugged a male teacher who tried to send you to the office. Those aren’t things people tend to forget.”

Cain glowered at the woman who’d been watching him since she entered the lobby and she finally glanced away.

“Do
you
think I shot Jason?” he asked Owen.

“Of course not. I know you better than that. Point is other people are beginning to wonder.”

Ned had put him forward as a suspect years ago, but no one had taken the accusation seriously. Was that changing?

“These days when I say, ‘Cain would never go so far,’ I don’t get agreement, I get doubt,” Owen was saying. “‘People do terrible things when they’re confused.’”

Cain’s grip on the phone tightened. “
Who’s
saying that?”

“Why bother naming names? I’m just warning you to be careful.”

“And how am I supposed to be careful, Owen?” Cain felt his eyebrows knit. “I didn’t know that rifle was in my cabin. And with Sheridan, what else could I have done? Let her die in the woods?”

“Of course not. But…they’ll look for any excuse to pin it on you. That’s all I mean.”

And now her blood was not only on his clothes, it was in his house.

“Tell me you don’t have any swollen knuckles,” Owen said.

“It wouldn’t matter. Whoever did this used something besides his fists. A board. A bat.”

“How do you know?”

The woman in the lobby was twisting around to look at him again. He lowered his voice even further. “I can tell by the injuries.”

“Someone had to use a club to get the better of a woman
her
size? What kind of man would do that?”

“A weak asshole. But a dangerous one. Someone
who wanted to be sure he had the upper hand and didn’t lose it. Which is why I’m surprised she’s still alive.”

“Maybe he thought she was dead.”

“He wasn’t finished. Hearing me coming with the dogs scared him off.”

“Then it’s a good thing you found her when you did.”

“It’s a good thing he was gone when I got there,” Cain muttered. “Or she wouldn’t be the only one needing a doctor.”

“That’s exactly the kind of comment that can get you into trouble, big brother.”

“It takes more than an offhanded comment and a little circumstantial evidence to convict someone of attempted
murder
. What motive would I have for hurting her?”

The woman in the lobby got up and left. Apparently, she’d heard enough.

“Ned thinks she’s hiding something,” Owen replied. “Thanks to her supposed ‘untold knowledge’ and the discovery of that rifle, folks will believe you wanted to shut her up.”

Alarm traveled up Cain’s spine. Sheridan
was
hiding something. In all her conversations with police, she’d never revealed their brief involvement. Cain wasn’t sure why—if she’d done it to protect him or if she’d merely been looking out for herself. She had only been sixteen, he seventeen and a half, when they met up in the Johnson’s camper during that party. Her strict, religious parents would’ve disowned her if they’d known what she did with him.

“Tell me this,” Owen said.

“What?”

“Is she still beautiful?”

“With all the scrapes and bruises, it was tough to tell.”

“I bet she is. She was
always
beautiful. That’s what got Jason into trouble. There wasn’t a boy in town who didn’t want her.”

She’d been Jason’s type—well-adjusted, happy, popular. So why had she given
him
her virginity? Cain had no idea. But he didn’t want to think about the mistakes he’d made. He’d been young and stupid, too ready to capitalize on her schoolgirl crush. After that night, he’d never called her, but only because he’d known instinctively that he’d crossed the line when he touched her.

“What happened to Jason wasn’t her fault,” he said.

“Whose fault was it?” Owen asked.

Cain’s. But not in the way everyone thought. “It was crazy. Random.”

“You’re saying whoever it was stashed that rifle in your cabin?”

“I told you, I have no idea how it got there. Anyway, why would I want to kill my—” for the first time in a long while Cain felt the need to differentiate “—
your
brother?” Jason had been everything a parent could want, and Cain had been the opposite. Cain had envied Jason. But he never would’ve hurt him.

“You wouldn’t, but no one else understands you the way I do. They only know you’ve had some…issues. It doesn’t help that half the people in this town are afraid to deal with you on any issue that doesn’t involve animals. That makes them willing to believe almost anything.”

Cain hadn’t lost his temper in years. But Owen was
right. Most men stepped to the side to avoid getting in his way. Even certain women kept their distance. Others, he couldn’t seem to get rid of. There were days when he turned out of his drive onto the county road to find Amy, his ex-wife, sitting in her car, waiting just to catch a glimpse of him. “That’s not enough to prove I tried to kill her. If I wanted her dead, Owen—if I was capable of going to such lengths—she’d
be
dead. I would’ve gone ahead and buried her. I certainly wouldn’t have called for emergency help.”

“Considering that rifle, Ned will be suspicious. That’s all. Keep it in mind.” Owen coughed. “So, when are you coming home?”

Cain didn’t know. Sheridan’s fragility made it difficult to just leave her there and go. He doubted she’d be very excited to see him, but he was all she had. “I don’t know.”

“If she dies, it might be better if you’re not hovering around.”

“She’s not going to die.”

Silence. Then Owen said, “I hope you’re right. I’m exhausted.” He punctuated those two words with a yawn. “I’d better go.”

“Wait.” Cain caught him before he could hang up. “Does Dad think I shot Jason?” Hating the vulnerability revealed by that question, Cain braced himself for the worst. John Wyatt had never approved of Cain, even after Cain had cleaned up his act and gone to college.