Watch Me (20 page)

“He knew about you and Amy, okay? He must have. That’s why he kept coming out here, creeping around in the dark.”

Cain couldn’t have been more surprised. “Knew
what
about me and Amy?”

“I saw her, too,” he said as if Cain’s response had been deliberately misleading. “She came here quite often. That’s the reason I didn’t get up when I heard your
dogs the night Sheridan was attacked. I figured it was Amy. Again.”

“She used any excuse she could to see me.” That was common knowledge. “But…are you talking about more than that?”

“I’m talking about when she came out here
at night
.”

“You mean…late at night?”

He lifted his hands from the steering wheel. “Yes, late. Once every other week, at least. I’m sure there were lots of times I didn’t know about. But if you two had something going, it’s none of my business. That’s why I stayed out of it.”

“We didn’t have anything going!” Cain’s patience was wearing thin.

Evidently, Levi could tell by his shock that he was being honest. “She didn’t come up here to—” he lowered his voice, even though there was no one but the dogs to hear them “—you know, be with you?”

Cain scowled. “Not the way you think. I haven’t slept with her since before we divorced ten years ago. And I’ve never invited her over at night. Hell, I didn’t even invite her over during the day. If she came here, it was of her own accord. I’d already learned my lesson.”

“What was she doing when she came here at night, then?”

That was what Cain wanted to know. “I have no idea,” he said, but he thought it was high time he found out.

Sheridan sat on a double bed in the Fairweather Inn on Main Street, facing her best friend. She had the key to her uncle’s place, but she wasn’t ready to return there,
wasn’t sure she’d ever want to stay there again. The motel felt safer, more neutral.

“I can’t believe you didn’t call me,” Skye said, still angry. “We’ve been so worried. Especially Jonathan. He’s on an important case or he’d be here instead of me.”

“I’m sorry. I…I didn’t know what to tell you. Or him.” She and Jon were no longer dating. They hadn’t viewed each other in a romantic light for more than two years. But they were closer than ever, best friends. “I figured he’d try to talk me into leaving if I called him.”

Skye glared at her without speaking.

“Besides, I don’t have my cell phone,” Sheridan continued. “The battery’s dead and I have no clue where my charger went.”

Skye’s mouth twisted. “What about loverboy’s phone?”

Sheridan shot her a dirty look at the loverboy reference. “I didn’t want to use Cain’s phone to make a long-distance call—”

“That’s such an
excuse!
”

Why argue? It was a hundred percent true. She’d been hiding from everyone who might warn her against doing what she had, in fact, done. She’d never gotten over Cain. The impulse to stay with him had gotten the better of her common sense. That was all. And she didn’t want to leave Whiterock for fear the mystery would drag on forever. She was determined to expose the man who’d tried to kill her, to keep fighting for the truth.

“Didn’t you want a little emotional support? Or were you happy getting what you got instead?” Skye said snidely.

“Stop it.” As chagrined as she felt for not being more
sensitive to her friends’ concern, Sheridan was growing irritated with Skye’s unrelenting digs. “You have no right to be such a smart-ass.”

Skye almost flew off the bed. “I’ve got every right! You were nearly beaten to death
two weeks
ago. You don’t think that’s something I should know? What if Cain hadn’t taken such good care of you? What if you’d
died?
You’re one of my best friends, damn it!”

“But it’s my life! I can screw it up if I want to!”

Skye flounced back on the pillows and used the remote to turn on the television. “Well, I hope it was worth it.”

At this point, Sheridan was pretty sure it had been. An interlude like the one she’d shared with Cain was difficult to regret. She’d never enjoyed making love to anyone the way she’d enjoyed it with him. That had to count for
something
. There were people who went their whole lives without experiencing that sense of giddy excitement, that bone-melting desire. So what if it couldn’t last? At least she’d
felt
it. At least she knew it was possible, that it was
real
.

But she’d caused Skye a lot of worry, trouble and expense. She owed her an apology for that. And she’d probably upset Jonathan even more. “Skye, I was completely out of it for probably…I don’t know, eight or nine days. You can’t hold the first week against me.”

Skye sulked as she watched some movie on TV. “You could’ve had Cain notify your family and friends.”

“The police tried to contact my parents, but they were on their cruise.”

“What about me and Jon?”

“I was getting around to it,” she mumbled.

She tossed the remote onto the bed. “When? Next month? After we’d filed a missing person report and mourned you as
dead?
”

Sheridan got up and rummaged through her suitcase for a nightshirt. “Will you please calm down?”

Taking a deep breath, Skye frowned but didn’t say any more until the next commercial break. Then she attempted a calmer approach. “That’s how I learned you were hurt,” she said. “I finally got through to your parents.”

“They told you where I was?”

“They said you were staying at Cain Granger’s until they could make other arrangements for you. But that was enough to tell me you were in trouble. It isn’t as if we don’t know about him, Sher. He’s almost all you talked about in that victims’ support group where we met. I know what he means to you and how guilty you feel….”

“So you came to rescue me from him.”

“I came to see what the hell’s going on and to bring you home. It was me or Jon, and he couldn’t leave, not really. Jasmine wanted to join me, too, but she’s in Virginia.”

Sheridan changed into a T-shirt of Cain’s she’d accidently grabbed while packing. “If you talked to my parents, you knew I was okay.”

“Did I?” Skye challenged. “Let me tell you something. Jasmine called me this morning—” she glanced at the clock “—I mean, yesterday morning.”

A tremor of foreboding went through Sheridan. Jasmine had undeniable psychic abilities, which she used to help police solve various crimes, many of them high-profile. Sheridan didn’t really understand how Jasmine did what she did, but she’d seen her friend’s
visions come to pass often enough that she no longer questioned them. “What’d she say?” Sheridan had to ask, even though she dreaded the answer.

“She said you’re in trouble, Sher.” Skye’s voice was beseeching now. “She said she keeps seeing visions of you with blood running down your face. Lots of it.”

Sheridan rubbed the goose bumps away from her arms. She could imagine how Jon had reacted to that. “There
was
lots of blood. She’s probably talking about the beating.”

Skye shook her head. “No, there’s more. She keeps seeing you dead in the forest.”

That brought the goose bumps back and made Sheridan nauseous. But it explained why Skye was so upset. And why she’d hopped on a plane, rented a car in Nashville, driven half the night and shown up at Cain’s cabin regardless of the hour.

“I should’ve called,” Sheridan conceded. She didn’t add that she’d been afraid to hear what Jasmine might have to say, that it was part of the reason she hadn’t contacted them. And she felt safe with Cain. Maybe even
safer
. Skye prided herself on her defense skills. She could probably handle a pistol better than Cain, since Cain rarely had occasion to use one and Skye taught shooting classes at the range every week. It was just that Skye represented all the cases Sheridan dealt with in Sacramento where the good guy hadn’t won and never would.

“You
should’ve
called,” Skye repeated.

Sheridan crawled into bed, and they watched TV for several more minutes. Then Skye glanced over again. “You okay?” she asked, finally calm.

“I could be better.”

“What do you think we should do?”

Sheridan pleated and unpleated the edge of the coverlet, trying to figure things out. “You want me to go back to Sacramento, right? Isn’t that where you’re going with this?”

“That’s exactly where I’m going.”

“I can’t do that,” she said.

Skye muted the television. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not just about me anymore.”

“Of course it is. It’s about keeping you safe! It’s about making sure Jasmine’s vision never becomes reality!”

“No, it’s about keeping
everyone
safe. Someone killed Amy Smith. We can’t simply forget about that and walk away.”

Skye nibbled her bottom lip. “Who’s Amy Smith?”

“An old acquaintance. There’s a connection between what happened to me and what happened to her. I
know
it.”

“Why can’t the local police handle it?”

“Are you kidding? They’re completely inexperienced in homicide.”

“They can ask for outside help.”

“They don’t even realize they need it. Anyway, is that what you’d tell me if I was a stranger who came to you for help?” she asked. “Leave it to the police?”

Skye watched the silent television screen. “You know I wouldn’t.”

“Because we help victims. That’s what we do. So why wouldn’t that go for me, too?”

Skye’s voice fell to a whisper. “Because you’re closer to me than my two sisters. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

“But I need closure as much as anyone. Whoever shot me and killed Jason has been free to go on with his life for
twelve years
while I’ve been dealing with the repercussions of what he did. And that’s not the worst of it. Because he wasn’t caught back then, someone else is dead.
Dead
, Skye! We have to stop him. If we don’t do it, I doubt anyone else will.”

Skye pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just tell me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Are you taking this risk
only
because you want to find the man who killed Jason and Amy?” she asked, dropping her hand.

“Why else would I be staying?”

“I can think of one very gorgeous reason. The same reason who was standing in his boxers not too long ago, showing me a little too much of his rifle
and
his incredibly muscular body.”

“Cain.”

“Have you fallen in love with him again, Sher?”

“Again?” Sheridan laughed softly, hugging his shirt even closer to her body. “I never
stopped
loving him, Skye. I don’t think I ever will.”

A spark of compassion changed her friend’s expression. “So it’s about closure there, too.”

Sheridan blew out a sigh. “Maybe.”

“Don’t let him tempt you into making a mistake. Don’t stay here and fight this battle because you think you might have a chance with him. Not at the risk of your life.”

Sheridan raised her chin. “I know what to expect—and not expect—from Cain. I find the bastard who
nearly killed me twice, who murdered Jason and Amy, and then I go home.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Then she could say goodbye to Whiterock without any regrets. Then she could leave because she’d chosen to leave and not because fear had chased her away.

“Fine. Just call Jon and let him know you’re safe. He’s left me three messages since my plane took off.”

“At
this
hour?”

“He doesn’t care what time it is. He wants to hear from you.”

Bolstering herself for more anger, Sheridan called Jonathan—but he was too relieved to yell at her. “God, you had me scared,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I was out of it for quite a while, but I’m better now.”

“Do you need me to fly out there and kick some ass?”

She chuckled. “Skye says you’re on an important case.”

“Nothing’s more important than my friends.”

“Stay there and do your job,” she said with a smile, missing him. “I’m going to be okay.”

“Let me know if that changes.”

Hearing the fatigue in his voice, she decided to let him go. He worked too hard, and slept barely five or six hours a night as it was. “Get some rest. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”

“Right. Talk later,” he mumbled.

She hung up and slid back under the covers. But eventually her thoughts reverted to Cain, and she couldn’t help feeling cold and lonely without two hundred pounds of warm male beside her.

C
ain knocked on Tiger’s door at seven in the morning. His eyes sockets felt like they were filled with sand because he hadn’t bothered to go back to bed last night, but he wasn’t the least bit groggy. For reasons he refused to explore, he was angry that Sheridan’s friend had shown up and dragged her off. And he was determined to find out what the hell Levi had been talking about.

From the look on Tiger’s face when he answered the door, he wasn’t pleased to be rousted from his bed so early.

“Why are you pounding on my door at the freakin’ break of dawn?” he snapped, wincing against the sunlight as if he had a headache—or more likely a hangover.

“I assumed you’d be up and getting ready for work.” Tiger owned a transmission shop in town and repaired tractors, too.

“I’m taking the whole week off.” He scratched his stomach. “So what do you want?”

“Were you at my place last night?” Cain asked.

Tiger didn’t answer. Behind him, his two-bedroom house was completely dark, and it reeked of alcohol and sweat.

“Tiger? It was you, wasn’t it? Drinking tequila and watching my house?”

With a sigh, he pressed his palms into his bloodshot eyes. “Yeah, it was me. So what?”

“So what?”
Cain echoed. “So I want to know why. My neighbor claims you’ve been coming up there quite often. He says Amy visited even more.”

Tiger’s lips twisted into a bitter sneer. “You can’t seriously need
me
to explain that.”

“You told me on the phone that you know I didn’t touch her.”

“I do know that. I also know she was in love with you.” His expression was so sullen, he looked like a thwarted child. “She would’ve taken you over me any day of the week and twice on Sundays.”

Cain had always assumed Tiger was oblivious to Amy’s true feelings. He’d certainly acted that way. At times, Cain had pretended to be oblivious himself, mainly to salvage Tiger’s pride. Which was why he chafed at such a bald admission—and hesitated to examine it further. He hadn’t asked for or wanted Amy’s undying love. He found it more annoying than flattering. But something was going on that made it impossible for him or Tiger to ignore or deny the truth any longer. “That doesn’t tell me what she was doing up at my place so often.”

“She was peeking in your windows, Cain,” he said, spelling it out as if he was addressing a five-year-old. “Watching you. Hoping you’d undress or touch yourself.” He lowered his voice. “Pretending you were touching her, no doubt.” He snorted. “Isn’t that fucking
amazing? That a woman could be so clueless when you didn’t even care enough to notice?”

No, it was sad. What had he done to trigger her obsession? Sure, he’d stupidly gotten involved with her early on, but he’d been honest from the start. And as soon as he realized he couldn’t love her the way she wanted him to, he’d backed off. She’d been the one who kept coming on to him, pulling at his clothes, begging to make love. The fact that he’d indulged her had been an even bigger mistake. That was how she’d ended up pregnant.

Cain felt guilty about all the mistakes he’d made in his life, but he knew with Amy he didn’t have anything to feel especially bad about, not in the last ten years. “So you followed her to see what was going on?”

“I was afraid you might break down someday. That you’d get lonely enough out there to decide that maybe she was better than nothing. So I bought a pair of binoculars and watched her watch you.” He laughed without humor. “We were both pathetic, eh? She was up there probing her worst pain and I was doing the same.”

“What was there to see?” Cain asked. “I don’t do anything very interesting. I eat and work, like everyone else.”

“She would’ve been happy just to watch you sleep. Her favorite spot was right outside your bedroom window.”

Cain grimaced at the image that conjured up in his mind. Too bad he hadn’t built the dogs’ cage on the other side of the house. “Why didn’t you tell me so I could put a stop to it?”

Despondency seemed to replace Tiger’s anger. “I wanted to win her over. I wanted her to think of
me
,
desire me, without you having to chase her off. And I felt like that was happening. She quit going to your place so often. I actually believed she’d finally stopped. The last couple of times I checked, she wasn’t there. And then this past week…it proves she was still waiting for you. I was never good enough.” A muscle flexed in his cheek as he challenged Cain’s gaze. “The only two women I’ve ever loved both wanted you.”

Cain rubbed his neck. “You’re talking about Sheridan.”

“You took her virginity as if it was nothing. And I would’ve given anything to be in your place.”

Once again Cain had to face what he’d done as a screwed-up kid. “It wasn’t nothing,” he said.

“How was it different?” Tiger asked. “She was just one of many.”

She’d
been different. Very different. But Cain wasn’t about to discuss that with Tiger. “It was a long time ago—”

“So? Why couldn’t you have stuck with those other girls? Did you have to have her, too?”

“Tell me one thing,” Cain said.

Tiger leaned back to grab an open beer from a side table. Who knew how long it’d been sitting there. He didn’t seem to care. “What’s that? If I had it to do over again, would I have moved the hell away from here, from you
and
Amy? You bet. Now look at me. She’s dead, and I’m the only one of us who even gives a damn. That’s fucking sad.”

“I didn’t want anything like this to happen to her, Tiger.”

“But you’re glad she’s gone, aren’t you?”

Cain wasn’t going to get anywhere with him, not
when he was like this. “Just tell me why you were at the house last night.”

Tiger scraped a hand over the whiskers on his chin. “Damned if I know.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only one who
would
know.”

“I guess it was my way of saying goodbye to Amy—and admitting at the same time that I was stupid to try winning her away from you.” He downed the rest of the beer. “Shit, that’s warm,” he muttered in disgust.

Cain didn’t want to deal with the jealousy issue. Amy was gone. It no longer mattered whom she’d loved the most. They had other things to worry about right now. “Do you know who might’ve killed her, Tiger?”

He stared off into the distance.

“Tiger?”

With a blink, he focused. “Whoever it was knew her well.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He wrote something in the dirt not far from her body.”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“Ned stumbled on it. But not until dinnertime yesterday. He went back to the scene after everything was cleaned up, to take another look around, and spotted it about twenty feet from where you found her body.”

Cain hadn’t seen anything like that. But then, it’d been dark and he’d been so horrified by her murder he’d only been looking for danger. The minute he realized Amy was dead, he’d panicked and run back to the house to make sure Sheridan was safe. “What’d he write?”

“I love you, Amy.”

Cain shoved his hands in his pockets. “That’s some love.”

“Love is cruel,” Tiger said and shut the door.

It wasn’t the sight of her uncle’s house that did it. It was the smell—a mixture of old furniture, new polish and the scent of roses wafting in from the open door behind her.

Sheridan stood inside the front entrance and braced against the wall in the entryway while the memories came tumbling back. As Cain had supposed, she’d just returned from the supermarket when she’d been attacked. She remembered that clearly now. She also remembered that she’d carried her groceries into the kitchen and was putting them away when she’d seen a shadow move along the side of the house.

Curious and a little unsettled, she’d walked to the living room window and gazed out at the side yard. In the deepening dusk, she could see the trash can and the empty newspaper recycle bin, but not much else.

Trying to shrug off a sense of unease, she’d told herself her misgivings were merely the effect of an overactive imagination. Her line of work tended to make one overcautious. And it wasn’t easy coming back to the town where she’d been shot and nearly killed. All kinds of nostalgic, poignant emotions had surfaced as soon as she’d driven past that Welcome to Whiterock sign, especially when she began to notice the changes to her hometown.

With a new gas station at one end of Main Street, the motel recently refurbished, and the only bar in town boasting a new neon sign, there was plenty of evidence that everyone had carried on very handily without her.

“What’s wrong?” Skye cut into her thoughts. Her friend had gone in ahead of her, but once Skye realized Sheridan had stopped, she returned. “You okay?”

Sheridan nodded, but she was afraid of the other memories—the ones that were quickly coming into focus. They brought back the sudden terror and helplessness she’d felt.

“I locked the door,” she said.

Skye angled her head quizzically. “You what?”

“I wasn’t stupid. At least I locked the door.”

“You’re talking about the night you were attacked?”

Sheridan drew a deep breath and nodded again. “I thought I saw something, couldn’t really confirm it, but I came back and locked the door, anyway.”

Skye drew her into the living room, where Sheridan sank onto the stiff old couch. She refused to even look at the kitchen. She knew now what had happened there, remembered turning from the counter to be confronted by a man wearing a ski mask. Seeing a figure so similar to what she’d faced when she and Jason were shot had stolen the strength from her limbs. Because she knew he’d come back to kill her.

“How’d he get in?” Skye asked, gently touching her shoulder.

“He had a key,” she whispered.

“How?”

“Cain said there was one under the mat. I never thought to check. My family knows better than to leave a spare in such an obvious place. The tenant must’ve left it behind when he moved out.”

“Did you hear this person come in?” Skye was try
ing to pull the details from her. But it wasn’t easy to sort through so much mental debris.

Sheridan wrapped her arms around herself. “No. But he must’ve come through the door. There was no breaking glass, no forced entry. As a matter of fact, I heard nothing until the floor creaked right behind me. And then it was too late.” She closed her eyes, wishing she didn’t have to relive those minutes. But she knew it was important to examine every detail.

“What’d he do, Sher?”

“He shoved me. I tried to fight him off, but he put his hands around my neck and squeezed until…until everything went black.”

“Then he could take you from the house.”

“He tied me up and gagged me first.” She licked her dry lips, tried to regulate her breathing. “The next thing I knew, he was carrying me through the woods. I had some kind of cloth stuffed in my mouth. My hands were tied, but not my feet.”

Skye’s voice was low, intense. “Was he still wearing the mask?”

“I think so.” Sheridan concentrated, wishing she could remember more clearly. “Yes,” she said confidently. “I wish that, once I freed my hands, I’d grabbed for it, but at that point all I could focus on was escape. I knew my life depended on what I did in the next few minutes, maybe seconds.”

“What
did
you do?” Skye asked, taking her hands.

Sheridan watched her friend gently squeeze her fingers. “I shoved at his chest. I wasn’t the only thing he was trying to carry. He also had a—a shovel or some
thing. Yes, that makes sense. He had a shovel later. That must’ve been it.”

Skye waited with an anxious expression but she didn’t interrupt.

“Anyway, when I woke up, I started working at the ropes. I couldn’t believe it when I felt them loosen. He probably tied me very quickly and didn’t expect me to be in any position to get free. So when I began to kick and fight, it took him by surprise, sent him off balance. He stumbled and fell, and I went sprawling to the ground.” The words were coming faster as memories intensified. “That gave me a chance to get up and run. I took off, but it was so hard to move my legs. They felt as if they weighed a hundred pounds each. And branches kept gouging my face and cheeks and arms.”

“He must’ve come after you.”

She swallowed hard. “He did. A minute later he grabbed hold of my clothes.” She fell silent, trying to come to terms with what he’d done next. She’d never been through anything more harrowing in her life. Even the shooting at Rocky Point hadn’t been as traumatic—not at the time. Because it had happened so fast. She hadn’t felt the bullet for several seconds.

This attack was different. She’d known from her first glimpse of that mask that she was in trouble. And she’d never felt more fear than those few minutes when the man who’d choked her was chasing her through the forest.

Until he caught her.

“Is that when he started hitting you?” Skye asked.

Sheridan pulled her hands away so she could cover her eyes.

“Sher?” Skye moved closer, and rubbed her back soothingly.

“Yes,” she breathed. “He—he picked something up. Like a bat, but it was probably a—a heavy stick or piece of wood. He hit me with it. Again and again and again. Until I couldn’t see because of all the blood in my eyes. My ears rang and I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know where I was,
who
I was.”

“What made him stop? Did you pass out again?”

“No. I knew I had to quit fighting, make him believe he’d won. So I went limp.”

“Did it work?”

“He kicked me to see if I’d move, but I didn’t. I had nothing left. I just lay there. I felt as if I was floating outside my own body, watching this brutality.”

“Did he say anything? Did you hear his voice?”

“He said, ‘Stupid bitch. Now you’re going to pay.’ As if
I’d
done something to
him
.”

“What was his voice like?”

“A hoarse whisper. That was all. It was barely audible.”

Skye cursed in frustration and disappointment, but she wasn’t willing to give up. “And then what’d he do?”

The rest was a blur. Sheridan supposed she’d faded in and out of consciousness during the next few minutes. “I don’t know.”