Watch Me (31 page)

John gaped at his son. “What reason would Owen have for shooting Jason, for God’s sake?”

Robert stared at his feet for several seconds, then raised his head. “If you want a reason, go take a look at the piano.”

“The
piano?
What are you talking about?”

“You worshipped Jason. Owen could never compete, Dad. Not at anything. Neither could I.”

Owen’s cell phone rang. He didn’t want to answer it. He had too much to do, needed to stay focused. But he was almost out of range, and he knew it would be smarter not to go missing for that long. “Hello?”

“Owen?”

It was his father. “Hi, Dad.”

“Where are you?”

“Driving around, looking for Karen.”

There was a slight pause. “Why are you looking for her?”

“It was the craziest thing,” he said. “I was walking up to the house to visit you, and she came running out of the backyard, screaming. She had a big bruise on her face and she was obviously hysterical, so I had her get in my truck.”

“You didn’t see me there? Lying on the ground?” he cut in.

“I saw you, but I knew she couldn’t have hurt you too badly and that Robert would take care of you. I knew you wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear what she was yelling. I planned to take her to the office and give her a sedative, calm her down and see if anything was really wrong with her, but when we were driving to town, she jumped out of my truck. By the time I got turned around, she’d disappeared into the trees, and I’ve been looking for her ever since. I’m wondering if she was attacked by the same man who beat Sheridan.”

There was a long silence. Then John said, “Have you called Ned?”

“No. To be honest, I’d rather find her first.”

“Why?” His father pounced on the statement, but Owen wasn’t worried. When he was finished, there’d be no evidence linking him to this crime, either.

“Because she was claiming
you
hit her, Dad. I didn’t want her telling that to Ned.”

“Owen, quit looking for her and come home. Do you hear me? Come back right now.”

Owen frowned and glanced at the clock. He needed more time. “What did you say?”

“I said come home!”

“My phone’s cut…out…. I’ll…later.” Owen punched the End button. Then he smiled at the bloody mess that was Karen. “He’ll buy it,” he told her. “He hates Cain so much he’s blind to everyone else. I can get away with this, no problem. I walked right into the hospital where Sheridan was—and walked out again while everyone was searching for the man with the wig. I swear I’m in
visible sometimes. I’m whatever I have to be. I’ll fix this.” He winked even though she was no longer alive to see it. “You just watch me.”

C
ain lifted his head from the futon where he was lying naked with Sheridan, and kissed her forehead. After making love in the cellar, they’d gone upstairs, where they could be more comfortable, and fallen asleep. The sun was going down, so it had to be at least eight-thirty. “Hey, we gonna sleep here for the rest of the day?”

“Mmm…” She snuggled closer. “Maybe.”

“But I missed dinner. And sex makes me hungry,” he said.

Although her lips curved into a smile, she didn’t open her eyes. “Then you must be starving.”

“I am. And I’m not interested in the granola I put in my pack. What about you?”

“Sex makes me tired.”

He carefully eased himself out from beneath her. “Fine. You stay here and sleep while I run home and make us something to eat. By the time you wake up, I’ll have a picnic ready.”

“Sounds good,” she mumbled.

He went back to the cellar and brought up their clothes. Then he dressed and covered her with the
blanket that had been folded at their feet. “Where’re your keys? It’ll be faster if I drive.”

“I left them in the car. I wasn’t planning to stay long.”

“See you soon.” He started for the door, then turned back to look at her. He was going to marry her. Even a few days ago—certainly a few weeks ago—the idea of marriage would have panicked him. But he’d made the decision in a moment of clarity during which he realized he’d never felt this way about another woman.

It didn’t matter how quickly he’d made the decision. Or whether or not she was pregnant. He wasn’t frightened at all. The only thing that scared him was the thought of
not
being with her.

“He’s gone,” John told Robert as he hung up the phone.

“Is he coming back?”

John didn’t think so. “He’s looking for Karen.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know.” It didn’t make sense that she’d jump out of Owen’s truck and run into the trees. But nothing made sense anymore. Not since last night. “It’s Cain. It
has
to be Cain,” he muttered.

Robert frowned at his bank of monitors. “I’m not so sure. I’m the one who first found that rifle, Dad.”

John’s muscles bunched with tension. “What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t know it was the gun that killed Jason. All I saw was a rifle in Grandpa’s storage. And I didn’t see any point in letting it sit there and rust. I thought I’d use it for some target shooting now and then. So I took it and put it in my trunk.”

“How’d it wind up in Cain’s old cabin?”

“I was as surprised as anybody. It just disappeared one day. That’s another reason I put up the security system—to prove when I was home and when I wasn’t. I was scared to death someone would use that gun and I’d be blamed because my fingerprints were all over it. I never dreamed Owen had taken it.”

“You think he’s the one who hid it in Cain’s cabin?”

“That’s right. And he wiped it clean. When those kids came across it, there were no prints—except for theirs.”

“How does that prove Owen put that gun in the cabin?”

“Cain came to me a little while ago to ask where I’d gotten it in the first place. He said Owen told him he’d found it in my trunk, recognized it as the one that’d belonged to Bailey Watts and hidden it in the cabin. But the police hadn’t tested the rifle yet, Dad. Only the person who’d used it would know to get rid of it right away—would know for sure that it was the gun that killed Jason.”

John didn’t want to hear this. He was tempted to walk out. But he couldn’t. He’d craved the truth for too long. “No! That rifle went missing before Jason was shot with the same type of weapon. This town isn’t so big that rifles go missing every day. Owen guessed, that’s all.”

“Then why didn’t he say anything to me when he found it?”

“He was probably afraid
you
were to blame,” he said, grasping for an explanation. “So he got rid of it.” Owen wasn’t the type to hurt anybody. He didn’t have Cain’s temper, Cain’s confidence or Cain’s strength.

“But after that I found a picture of Sheridan stuffed under the seat of Owen’s truck.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, either.”

“It was taken not long ago, through the window of her uncle’s house. He was watching her, and she didn’t know it.”

“So? She’s a beautiful woman, someone he knew in high school. Sometimes a marriage can begin to feel…confining. Everyone fantasizes now and then.”

“But someone had stabbed a pen through her face—then crumpled the photograph. You wouldn’t do that unless you hated the person. But Owen’s always said he liked Sheridan.”

John felt as if he were falling, spiraling down into a bottomless pit. “Maybe he’s not the one who defaced the picture.”

“Then who did? Lucy never drives his truck.”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” he said numbly.

“I’ve been telling myself that, too.” Robert let go of an audible sigh. “But there’s something else.”

This was it. John could sense it coming. “What?” he said, his voice cracking as he forced the word out.

“The footprint they got from that tennis shoe?”

“Owen’s not the only size ten in Whiterock.”

“But today at the funeral, I asked Lucy what she had planned for the rest of the afternoon. She said Owen had to work but she was going shopping in Nashville.”

“Go on,” John said, bracing for the worst.

“I asked her what she was looking for.” He took a deep breath. “And she said ‘Owen lost his tennis shoes. He asked me to pick up a new pair.’”

John could feel the sweat running down his back. “How does a grown man
lose
his tennis shoes?”

“Exactly.”

Cain’s dogs were milling around the yard as the sun set, waiting for him. “Too tired to come back for me, eh?”

Quixote barked and trotted over, and Cain scratched his ears, which brought the others. He spent a few minutes giving them the attention they demanded, then stood. “I suppose you’re all hungry.”

Their tails wagged at the mention of food.

Cain fed them and put them in their pen. He was pretty sure he and Sheridan would be staying at the old cabin, and he’d rather not worry about the dogs taking off after a raccoon.

“Rest up,” he told them, then found his tie on the doorknob and chuckled as he went in.

His phone rang while he cooked, but he ignored it. There was no one he wanted to talk to. And he was enjoying the anticipation of presenting his meal to Sheridan.

As he finished and began loading everything into grocery bags, however, the phone was ringing again. And this time it wouldn’t stop.

“What the hell?” he muttered and finally walked over to answer.

“Hello?”

“Cain?”

It was his stepfather. Cain’s hand tightened on the receiver. After the past few weeks, what could John possibly want with him? “Yes?”

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour.”

“You’re lucky I picked up now. Why are you calling?”

“It’s Karen.”

“I don’t want to talk about her. Whatever she told you is whatever she told you.”

“Listen to me.” The strangled sound of John’s voice made Cain’s heart beat a little faster.

“What is it?”

“She’s gone.”

“Well, she’s not over here,” he said. He was on the verge of hanging up, but John’s sense of panic was genuine enough to make him hesitate.

“I…I’m afraid something might’ve happened to her.”

Cain sank onto the couch. “What makes you say that?”

“She got into the truck with Owen more than an hour ago.”

“So?” Cain could barely hide his irritation. He had Sheridan waiting for him. He wanted to be with her instead of dealing with these same old suspicions.

“I think Owen’s the one who shot Jason.”

Cain sat without moving. Surely he’d heard wrong.

“Are you listening?” John asked.

“I’m listening,” Cain said. “But you must be losing your mind. First it was me, and now it’s Owen? Owen wouldn’t hurt anybody.” Cain had briefly wondered, when he’d first learned how that rifle found its way into his cabin, but he’d never actually
believed
it.

“I hope you’re right. Oh, God… But I’m at Karen’s and…she’s not here. No one knows where she went. She was last seen getting into Owen’s truck.”

This wasn’t an apology for misjudging him. So what was it, exactly? “Why are you telling me?”

“I saw something on television once. About killers.”

Killers…
The word sounded so strange coming out of John’s mouth, especially in relation to Owen. “I’m waiting.”

“They often return to familiar ground.”

“Which means…”

“Owen put that rifle in your old cabin. He took Sheridan to your land.”

“If he has Karen, you think he might be bringing her
here?
”

“Somewhere close by. It’s possible. I don’t know where else to look. Robert and I have been all over town. Can you check the forest? It—it might be our only chance of saving her life.”

He was serious. As hard as it was to process what he’d just heard, his father’s heartbreak came through clearly, convincing him.
What would it be like to wonder if your son was about to kill the woman you loved?
“Has anyone seen Owen’s truck?”

“It was spotted leaving my neighborhood. Lyle Porter said he had a woman with him, couldn’t tell if it was Karen. But I know it was. Lyle told me he turned toward the mountains.”

The mountains… “I’ll call you later,” Cain said and hung up. He wanted to help Karen, didn’t want to see anyone else hurt. But if Owen was anywhere near his place, he didn’t want Sheridan sleeping at the old cabin alone.

Sheridan heard the car pull up, was surprised Cain had returned after only thirty minutes. “It feels like you just left,” she murmured. But she was glad to have him back. It was dark now. She didn’t like being here alone after dark. And she was getting hungry.

When he didn’t come in right away, she got up to see if he needed help carrying in their dinner and saw that it wasn’t Cain at all. It was Owen. The cabin light in his truck gave her a glimpse of him just as he was climbing out.

Ducking so he wouldn’t see her naked, she scrambled to dress and smooth down her hair. She thought she’d be lucky to repair her appearance before he knocked at the door. But she didn’t hear from him even after she’d finished.

What was taking so long?

Another peek through the window told her he was getting something from his truck, so she went out to give him a hand. “Hey, stranger, what’re you doing here?”

She expected him to say that Cain had suggested they meet here. Or that he’d been looking for her because Ned had discovered something new about the investigation. She expected anything—except what she saw.

Obviously, she’d caught him unawares. He turned and stared at her, then quickly tried to shove whatever he’d been wrestling with back inside his truck. But he lost his hold, and it fell against him, knocking him back into the door, which opened wider. Then a body tumbled out onto the ground. Although it was unnaturally limp and covered in blood, Sheridan was close enough to recognize it in the pale glow of the same interior light that had let her identify Owen.

“Ms. Stevens,” she breathed in absolute astonishment.

Owen didn’t respond. He stepped over Karen as if she were nothing and reached inside his truck. But Sheridan didn’t wait to see what he was after. He’d killed Karen. He was probably the one who’d nearly killed
her
.

That thought galvanized her into action, and she took off for the forest. She knew better than to go back into the cabin. He’d only corner her there, and she didn’t have a weapon. Skye’s gun was at her uncle’s place, under the couch cushions. She might’ve regretted leaving it there, but putting it in her purse wouldn’t have helped. Her purse was in the rental car, which Cain had taken.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have any shoes, either. The soles of her feet screamed in pain with every pinecone, sticker and sharp rock she landed on, which hampered her ability to move very fast.

She could hear Owen charging through the trees behind her. He was quicker than she’d expected. And she knew from experience that he was stronger than he looked.

Her lungs pumping like pistons, she ignored the pain in her feet and dodged right, then left, threading her way through the trees toward Cain’s new cabin. He was her only hope. She couldn’t outrun Owen indefinitely, not without protection for her feet. And maybe not even then. She wasn’t back to full strength.

“Stop! Let me explain,” he called after her.

Explain why he had a bloody corpse in his truck? Hell, no! She kept running.

Like her, he was already winded. “I didn’t…hurt you when I…fed you that…soup…did I?”

Because she’d recovered sufficiently that it would’ve been a little obvious had she died in his care. He wasn’t stupid enough to give himself away. He’d been biding his time, waiting for a safer opportunity.

“Sheridan?”

Her name weighed on her like lead.

“Do I…have to…resort to…other tactics?”

Cain’s cabin was too far away. She wasn’t going to make it.

“Are you…listening? I’ll kill…Cain!” he threatened.

She believed he was capable of it. But at the moment it wasn’t Cain’s life that hung in the balance.

“It’d be…easy. All I’d have to do is…knock…pull out a gun…and shoot.”

Sheridan blanched at the image his threat created. But how did she know Owen wouldn’t do it regardless? He’d proven he had no conscience.

Tears came to her eyes, blurring what she could see of the ground, but she forced herself to keep running. Afraid that leading him to Cain would only get Cain killed, she was heading away from both cabins now, plunging so deep into the forest that the canopy of pine trees towering overhead completely blocked out the moonlight. She could no longer see the obstacles in her path. Branches caught at her clothes and scratched her face, reminding her of the sheer terror she’d faced in this same forest weeks before—terror and pain she’d experienced because of the man chasing her now.

Soon her legs felt so heavy she could barely lift them. She wasn’t going to make it out of here alive. She had to do something else, think of some way to stop him.