Watch Me (12 page)

“T
his is the girl?”

Marshall Wyatt studied Sheridan with his wise, old eyes, even though she suspected he couldn’t actually see her very well. According to Cain, his step-grandfather had a cataract removed a few months ago, but still suffered from a bad case of glaucoma.

“This is the girl.” Cain tossed the bag of pork rinds and the crossword puzzles he’d bought on the way over onto the old man’s bed. “She’s tough, eh?”

“She sure is.” Marshall reached out a shaky hand. “I hear you’ve had a rough time of it since you returned to town, young lady.”

Sitting in the wheelchair Cain had borrowed from the nursing home office, Sheridan pushed herself close enough to accept Wyatt’s hand. “It was horrific,” she said as he gave her fingers a brief squeeze. “If not for Cain, I wouldn’t have made it.”

“It’s amazing what this boy will do for a pretty lady,” Marshall said with a wink.

Earlier this afternoon, before Cain brought her to the nursing home, Sheridan had bathed in the pond again, only this time she’d worn Cain’s boxers and T-shirt into
the water and managed to dress herself afterward, donning a cotton summer dress with a pair of sandals. She couldn’t raise her hands above her head for more than a few seconds, so Cain had helped blow dry her hair, but she’d washed her face and put on a little blush and lip-gloss. She didn’t feel pretty—not with the lingering scabs and bruises—but she felt healthier than she had in a long while.

“He’s turned out to be a very good friend,” she said but avoided Cain’s gaze. Ever since he’d put on that salve, she couldn’t look at him without feeling a rush of desire. He’d affected her that way when she was sixteen; he affected her the same way at twenty-eight. She couldn’t control the craving, so she was determined to hide it.

“You don’t know who did this to you?” Marshall asked.

“No.” When Cain had come into her room to suggest they take a short drive, Sheridan had jumped at the chance for a change of scenery. And she was glad she had. Although she’d never had any contact with Marshall Wyatt in the past, she already liked him.

“It’s a tragedy,” he said. “I can’t understand it.” Then he looked at Cain and waggled a finger. “And you. What’re you doing sending that tea of yours over here? I’m not drinking that nasty stuff. I’ve survived eighty years without it, and I figure I’ll take my chances from here on out.”

“I can be just as stubborn as you,” Cain told him.

For a moment, there was a standoff; then the old guy grinned. “I love this kid,” he told Sheridan. “Doesn’t matter that he’s not really my own. If that John of mine
had half a brain he’d realize what he’s got here. What he’s always had. But he’s too big a fool, still livin’ in the past, mournin’ Jason. You can’t get close to him for all that pain.”

“We didn’t come here so you could bore her with family business,” Cain grumbled, but the glitter in his eye took the edge off his words and told Sheridan just how deeply he respected this man.

“So what
did
you come for?” Marshall said. “You’d better have more for me than those pork rinds and magazines. Where’re my cigarettes?”

Now Sheridan understood the real reason they’d stopped at the convenience store on the drive over.

“You tell John I’m supplying you with these and he’ll try to have me barred from visiting you.” Cain dug the pack out of his pocket and tossed it onto his grandfather’s bed with the other things. “You know that, don’t you?”

“John?” Marshall nearly shouted. “That’s what you call him now?”

“Come on. Don’t start,” Cain said. “Be happy that I smuggled in your contraband. I don’t like going against your doctor’s orders any more than he does.”

“I don’t care whether John likes it or not. You, neither. I’m an adult.” Marshall jabbed a thumb against his own chest. “I’ve earned the right to decide whether or not I want to smoke.”

Cain’s smile slanted to one side. “Which is why I buy them for you. That and the fact I can’t say no to you,” he added under his breath. “How’s that for tough love?”

“That’s the kind of love I like,” the old man replied,
laughing. “How come I’m the only one who sees it?” he asked Sheridan.

“Sees what?”

“That this boy has the softest heart of all.” Recovering his pack of cigarettes, he placed them proudly in his front pocket. “Ah, that’s what I needed,” he said, giving them a satisfied pat.

“Fortunately, he likes having them more than he likes smoking them,” Cain muttered to Sheridan, and she couldn’t help grinning. This wasn’t about smoking. It was about Marshall defying the people who said he couldn’t, about asserting his will despite all the decisions that were being made for him.

“What’ll the nurses say when they catch you with those?” Sheridan asked.

“Oh, they’ll cluck and they’ll cackle, but I won’t let ’em give me too much trouble. They know who’s boss around here.” A noise drew their attention to the door. “Isn’t that right?” he said to the nurse who appeared there.

“Isn’t what right?” she repeated, coming into the room.

“That I’m the boss around here.”

She opened her mouth to answer, then spotted the telltale bulge in his front pocket and scowled. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“You know what it is.”

“Shame on you,” she said to Cain. “How many times do I have to tell you? Cigarettes are against the rules here. Do you want him to die of lung cancer?”

“I want him to be happy for however long he lives,” Cain said.

She didn’t seem to have an argument for that, so she
sighed. “You’re going to cost me my job someday.” She was obviously exasperated, but she didn’t really seem worried about losing her job, especially once she noticed Sheridan sitting quietly in the corner. “You didn’t tell me you have a new girlfriend, Cain. Who’s this?”

He didn’t respond to the “girlfriend” part of her comment. “Sheridan Kohl, meet Candy Bruster,” he said.

The short, middle-aged brunette offered Sheridan a sad smile. “I should’ve realized who you were when I saw the wheelchair. I heard about what happened. I’m so sorry.”

“I was actually very lucky. If Cain hadn’t been there, I probably wouldn’t be alive right now.”

“Makes you feel as if you’re not safe in your own house anymore.” Looking a bit haunted, she rubbed her arms. “I’m a single mother of three teenage girls. It’s terrifying to think there’s someone in our town capable of beating a woman to death.”

“We’re going to catch him,” Sheridan said. “Don’t worry.”

“I hope you do.” She pointed at the pack of cigarettes in Marshall’s pocket. “I’ve got to finish my rounds. But if you don’t want Bertha to take those away from you, you’d better put them in your drawer like you usually do. She’s a lot stricter than I am.” She grinned at Cain and Sheridan on her way out. “And he thinks I don’t know where he hides them.”

When she was gone, Cain nudged his grandfather. “How can you complain about this place? Looks to me like you’ve got everyone wrapped around your little finger.”

Marshall’s blue-veined hand found Cain’s smooth,
strong forearm. “Only my favorite grandson,” he said. “Can I give you money to take this beautiful lady to dinner?” He reached into his pocket to pull out some cash, but Cain stopped him.

“I don’t need your money, Grandpa. I just need you to take care of yourself, okay?”

“You’re a good boy,” he said.

“Hey, be careful,” Cain responded. “You’ll ruin my reputation.”

Marshall shook his head. “If folks don’t know you by now they’re more blind than I am.”

Cain chuckled. “I’ve got to take Sheridan home. She shouldn’t be out too long just yet.”

“You two go ahead.” Marshall waved them toward the door. “You know where I am.”

Cain clasped his grandfather’s hand and hugged him at the same time, then wheeled Sheridan from the room.

“What?” Cain asked when they were out in the sunshine again.

“What…what?” she replied.

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m glad you brought me. I like your grandfather—and it’s wonderful to be out of bed.”

“It’s easy to tell you’re from California.”

“How?”

One finger lightly brushed her bare shoulder. “You’ve been indoors for ten days, but you still have a tan.”

“I spent a week on the beach in San Diego before I came here.”

He stared at her for several seconds—and didn’t look away when she met his gaze.

“Cain?” She was growing self-conscious, but he didn’t seem to mind the silence.

“You’re even prettier now than you were then.”

Sheridan was fighting a blush of pleasure when a car door slammed a few parking spaces away. Footsteps sounded on concrete, then a voice cut in. “Well, if it isn’t my big brother.”

The smile slid from Cain’s lips as he turned and nodded in acknowledgement. “Robert.”

“Spending time with dear old Granddad today, Cain?”

“We visited for a few minutes.”

Robert tilted his head to be able to see around his stepbrother, who didn’t bother to move. “Looks like you brought someone to meet him.”

“This is Sheridan Kohl.”

“I know.” Robert bent his tall frame in a quick, mocking bow. “Her reputation precedes her.”

He could’ve been referring to a lot of things—the shooting, the attack, even her work at The Last Stand. The organization had received a great deal of publicity over the past few years, mostly due to Jasmine, who freelanced as a forensic profiler and had been instrumental in solving several high-profile cases. But Sheridan could tell Robert wasn’t referring to the attempts on her life or the work she’d done. In Whiterock, she was famous—or infamous, really—for her secret liaison with Cain twelve years ago.

“You sure know how to impress the ladies,” she said in response to his sarcasm.

He clapped a hand to his chest. “Oh, no. Not like Cain.”

Robert’s sandy hair was greasy at the roots, and he
hadn’t shaved. He was bigger than most men, had been a small giant even as a boy, but with his sagging chin, sunken eyes and jaundiced pallor, the stubble covering his jaw seemed sloppy and unattractive, not shabby chic. “No,” she agreed, chuckling softly. “Not like Cain.”

His eyes narrowed at her frank honesty but Cain spoke before he could address her again. “Owen’s letting you drive one of his vehicles?”

Robert glanced at the Toyota 4x4 he’d just parked. “I have to drive something, don’t I? I can’t find ‘gainful employment’ without transportation.”

Cain hooked his thumbs in his pockets, but Sheridan sensed that he wasn’t as relaxed as he wanted to appear. “Dad thinks you’re out looking for a job?”

“I am out looking for a job.”

Cain’s eyebrows shot up. “So what are you doing here?”

“I can’t visit Grandpa while I’m doing it?”

“Not if you’re going to ask him for more money.”

“I just need a short-term loan,” he said. “I gotta get my car fixed.”

“Can’t you work it out some other way?” Displeasure sharpened Cain’s voice. “Give the old guy a break?”

Robert shrugged his shoulders. “He’s got nothing better to do with what he’s got left.”

Cain’s right hand curved into a fist, but he didn’t react to Robert’s disrespectful and ungrateful statement. Shaking out his fingers, he changed the subject. “Why’d you tell Amy that Jason and I argued the night he was killed?”

The insolent grin that tugged at the corners of
Robert’s mouth made Sheridan dislike him even more. “Because you did.”

“How would you know? You weren’t home that night.”

“I was home right after school. And that’s when you argued.”

“It was a discussion, and it wasn’t anything serious. We both wanted to use the truck. He told me he had a date, and I said I’d let him have it if he’d take me over to Scooter’s before he left. That was it.”

“I didn’t say it came to blows or anything.” Robert lifted his hands in mock innocence. “Amy asked me if you and Jason ever had any problems, and I told her the truth.”

“The truth,” Cain echoed in disgust. “And then you volunteered what Owen had told you.”

“About the camper?” A lascivious grin spread over his face. “Amy asked if I knew whether or not you and Sheridan had a previous relationship, and I told her the truth about that, too.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

His grin only widened at the knowledge that he’d hit his mark. “Gee, Cain. I didn’t realize you expected me to lie for you.”

Cain’s chest lifted as if to take a deep, calming breath and Sheridan imagined him counting to ten. She was actually impressed with his patience, considering she wanted to punch Robert herself. “Whatever.” He turned away, dismissing his stepbrother without a good-bye. But when Robert reached for the door to the nursing home, Cain whirled on him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

A flash of fear lit Robert’s eyes, which looked out of
place on such a large man. But a second later, he managed to bury his initial reaction beneath a fresh dose of false bravado. “We already went over it. I need a loan. My car isn’t drivable and I don’t have the dough to fix it.”

“I told you not to ask Grandpa.”

Robert jutted out his chin. “I don’t take orders from you.”

“Then do it for him. The only time you come around is when you want something. He’s got to be tired of it.”

“Stay out of my business. He’s not even your grandpa,” Robert said and entered the building, where he’d be surrounded by people to protect him if Cain snapped and went in after him.

Cain stared at Sheridan but she knew he wasn’t really seeing her. He was struggling with the desire to stop Robert from taking advantage of Marshall Wyatt. “There are days I hate him,” he admitted when his eyes finally focused.

“I’m surprised there are any days you don’t. Will your grandpa give him the money?”

“Probably,” he said with a sigh. “He usually does.”

Sheridan got out of the wheelchair so she could climb into Cain’s truck. But he opened the passenger door and deposited her on the seat before she could take a single step.

After returning the wheelchair to the lobby, he got into the driver’s side and started the engine. As he put the transmission in Reverse, she touched his arm. “Robert’s intimidated by you. And envious. You realize that, don’t you?”