Watch Me (6 page)

The door opened and a nurse came in. “It’s time for her meds,” she whispered and checked Sheridan’s blood pressure and other vital signs before inserting a needle in the tube of her IV. Once the nurse was done, Cain knew Sheridan would be out for quite a while and was finally able to relax enough to sleep. But a scuffle and yelling out in the hall woke him in what felt like mere minutes.

“Who are you? What’re you doing here?” someone cried. Then there was a crash and several female screams.

Throwing off his blanket, Cain jumped to his feet and dashed out the door. In the hall, he saw an overturned cart of medical supplies and several hospital employees rushing around in a panic.

“Call security!” someone hollered.

“He went down the stairs!” someone else cried.

A doctor dressed in scrubs stood against the wall not far away, looking stunned as he watched the pandemonium.

“What’s going on?” Cain asked.

“I saw a guy who was acting a little strange walk past me,” the doctor said. “When I tried to stop him, he bumped into the nurse pushing this cart, knocked her and it over, and took off running for the stairs. Two orderlies went after him.”

Cain’s stomach knotted with tension. “What was he doing?”

“Nothing, really. I mean he was dressed in blue scrubs, which isn’t unusual. But he had a surgical mask over his face and it looked like he was wearing some kind of wig. That’s what made me notice him.”

Pivoting, Cain ran back into the room and snapped
on the light. He was so used to nurses and doctors coming in and out. Had he missed something?

He yanked back the covers, half expecting to see a knife in Sheridan’s chest. But there was no knife, no blood.

Pressing two fingers to her neck, he prayed for a pulse….

And found one.

“Is everything okay in here?”

Cain turned to see that a nurse had pushed the door partway open. “Fine,” he said, and she hurried on.

It
was
fine, he told himself. Sheridan was safe. But he hadn’t been vigilant enough.

Thank God he had another chance.

“W
hat’s all the fuss about?” Marshall demanded.

Cain rested his elbow on top of the pay phone in the hospital lobby, once again wishing he had a cell phone. He’d needed to make sure that Levi Matherley was taking care of his dogs, and he’d decided to check on his grandfather while Sheridan’s doctor was with her. Maybe Cain’s relationship with John, his stepfather, had been strained from day one, but the opposite had been true of Marshall. They’d hit it off the minute Cain’s mother had taken Cain, as a twelve-year-old boy, into Wyatt Hardware to make the introductions. “So you’ve heard about all the excitement,” he said now, attempting to rub the exhaustion from his eyes.

“You think I don’t get any news in here?”

Marshall lived in a rest home. Because of the onset of Alzheimer’s, it was the best place for him. But it wasn’t easy for Cain to see his normally self-reliant grandfather in a situation neither of them liked. Marshall was lucid most of the time; it was just the odd moment when he found himself lost and confused.

“I think you manage to get whatever you want in
there,” Cain said with a laugh. “Including a string of girlfriends, judging by the cards I saw on your desk last visit.”

“Girlfriends!” His voice boomed through the line. “You know I’d never cheat on Mildred. I’ve been faithful to that woman for more than fifty years.”

Cain tried to ignore Marshall’s response. Mildred had died before Cain was even in high school. Marshall forgot that fact more than any other. Probably because that was the fact he wanted, more than any other, to change.

“How’s she doing, anyway?” his grandfather asked. “Why doesn’t she ever come to see me?”

Cursing the disease that was slowly robbing Marshall of his memory, Cain grimaced.
God, why do I have to watch this happening to the person I love the most?
He never knew what to say when Marshall lost touch, but generally preferred to go along with the conversation rather than risk embarrassing such a proud man. “She’s doing fine. I’m sure she’ll be by soon.”

“I miss her,” he said. “Life just isn’t the same without her.”

There was an awkward silence, because Cain could no longer pretend. He missed his grandmother, too. She’d been every bit as loving and supportive as Marshall. If only she’d lived…. It would’ve made a big difference—to him
and
Marshall.

“But she’s dead, right?” Marshall said at length. “I know that, I know that,” he murmured as if he needed to repeat it in order to convince himself.

He was back. Already. Sometimes he slipped in and out of reality so quickly Cain could almost convince
himself that Marshall wasn’t getting any worse. “Yes, she’s gone.”

His grandfather cleared his throat, and Cain suspected he was hiding tears. “But Sheridan Kohl isn’t gone, is she? I remember her parents, you know. They came into the hardware store all the time. A nephew of theirs ran my Nashville store before I sold out. They were good people. A bit uptight for my taste, maybe. Still, good people. They must be relieved their little girl’s okay. And it’s all because of you.”

This brought a smile to Cain’s lips. Others might doubt him—but never Marshall. “They don’t know yet. They’re on some cruise. And it might be a bit premature to celebrate her safety.”

“Why’s that?”

“There was an incident here at the hospital last night. A man was spotted right outside her room, wearing a wig and doctor’s scrubs. He took off when a real doctor tried to speak to him.”

“You think he wanted to harm her?”

“I think he came back to finish the job.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Cain had been wondering that ever since the incident occurred. He couldn’t protect her in such a public place—and couldn’t stay at the hospital indefinitely. “I’m going to take her home with me.”

“That should be interesting,” Marshall said.

Cain had never nursed a woman back to health. But over the years, he’d worked with so many ill and injured animals, he figured it wouldn’t be that different. Having her in his own sphere of influence would give him
greater control. He could take care of her until she was well enough to care for herself. “I’m sure it will be. If I can talk her into it.”

“My favorite show’s coming on,” Marshall suddenly announced.

Cain chuckled. Marshall scheduled his life according to TV programming. “Okay, I’ll let you go.”

“Call me later.”

“I will,” he said. Then he hung up and hurried back to Sheridan’s room so he could catch the doctor.

When Sheridan woke up, it was daylight and she found Cain sitting next to her bed. His hands dangled between his knees, his hair stood up on one side as if he hadn’t had the chance to comb it and the shadow of beard covering his jaw had darkened considerably.

“How long have you been here without a break?” she asked.

“Nearly two days.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you to go home last night.” She was still drowsy but feeling better. The sunlight coming through the window chased away her remaining doubts. She could smell food drifting toward her from the covered plate on the rolling table now positioned at her elbow. For the first time since the attack, she felt hunger pangs. “Want to share my lunch?”

“No.”

He seemed preoccupied. “Is something wrong?” she asked hesitantly.

“I want to get you out of here.”

She forgot about lunch.
“What?”

“Whoever did this to you…it’s not over.”

The brief sense of well-being brought about by all that sunshine disappeared. “What do you mean?”

“Someone who wasn’t a doctor or a nurse tried to come in here last night, after we both fell asleep.”

“Tried?”

“He looked suspicious so someone confronted him and he took off.”

A deep uneasiness caused goose bumps to jump out on her arms. “You’re saying whoever did this to me isn’t giving up.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t connected, but I don’t want to take the chance that it was.”

She could tell he was reluctant to scare her; she could also tell he fully believed it
was
connected. “This killer is determined.”

“It takes a lot of audacity to try something in a public place.”

“Or a strong desire. That’s why—”

Voices at the door interrupted her. Ned entered, followed immediately by a woman who looked less like a linebacker than he did but was still a far cry from petite. Sheridan knew without any introduction that this was Amy. She recognized her from her resemblance to Ned, but she would’ve remembered Amy regardless of her brother—despite the extra weight, the practical braid that kept her long red hair in order and the dark blue uniform.

Hoping to read his reaction to his ex-wife, Sheridan studied Cain, but in the blink of an eye, his expression became too neutral to reveal what he was thinking.

“What’s going on?” Ned demanded.

“As you know, we had a little disturbance at the hospital last night,” Cain said.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? On the phone, you made it sound as if someone came after Sheridan again.”

“I think that’s exactly what happened. Fortunately, there was a doctor in the hall right outside who thought it was strange to find a man walking through the hospital wearing a wig.”

Amy moved closer to the bed and folded her arms across breasts that hadn’t existed in high school, at least in their current size. Her eyes darted toward Cain for the fifth time since she’d walked in. Amy was obviously as infatuated with him as she’d always been, but she seemed professional enough when she spoke. “They didn’t catch him?”

“No. A few orderlies chased him but he got away.”

Ned cursed and shook his head. “I can’t believe this.”

“So what do we do now?” Amy asked.

Cain shoved a hand through his tousled hair. “I’d like to take her home with me.”

Sheridan’s jaw dropped. This must’ve been where Cain was leading the conversation before Ned and Amy walked in, but she hadn’t seen it coming.

Ned responded before she could. “No way!”

Cain got up and rounded the bed. “Why not?”

“Because I’m hoping she can help me solve Jason’s murder. The last thing I want is to have her cozy up with you.”

“I plan on doing everything I can to solve Jason’s
murder,” Sheridan said. “But that has nothing to do with Cain. Where I stay makes no difference.”

“So you’re saying you
want
to go home with him?” Amy asked.

“No, of course not. I don’t want to inconvenience him or anyone else. Surely there are other alternatives.”

“What makes you think she’ll be safe at your place?” Ned asked.

“It beats a hospital,” Cain said. “Too many people coming and going. There’s so much noise and activity, I can’t tell when something doesn’t belong.”

“I’m sure whoever it was won’t return,” Amy chimed in.

“We can’t assume that,” Cain said. “The fact that he came here once tells me he’s bold enough to try anything.”

Amy’s eyes darted between them. “So we’ll post a guard.”

“And who’ll pay for that?” Ned muttered.

Sheridan felt obligated to offer, but she couldn’t pay for it out of her personal account. She and Skye and their new partner, Ava Bixby, drew salaries that barely covered their living expenses. “My charity can probably pick up the tab. That’s what we do, fill in the gaps for stuff like this and, considering the situation, I guess that would apply to me, too. A victim is a victim.”

“There’s no need for anyone to pay,” Cain said. “If I take you home it’ll be free.”

“But her doctor will never go for it,” Ned said.

“I’ve already spoken to him.” Cain leaned against the side of her bed. “He agreed with me. He believes she might actually recover more quickly in a homelike
setting. And he’s willing to have Owen check on her and report back to him.”

Amy was visibly struggling to hide her anxiety at that suggestion. Obviously, Cain’s ex-wife didn’t want Sheridan anywhere near him. “If she can be moved, why not send her home to California?”

“She can’t travel that far,” Cain said. “Not yet.”

“And I’m not leaving Whiterock,” Sheridan told her. “Not until the man who hurt me is behind bars.”

“So you’re going to Cain’s?” Ned asked.

Sheridan pulled the blankets higher, seeking their reassuring warmth. “It’s my best option.”

Ned sent Cain a sly look. “Why are
you
taking such a personal interest?”

“I want closure, as badly as she does,” he said. “I want to know who tried to frame me by putting that rifle in my cabin.”

“There’s a chance her memory won’t come back,” Amy pointed out. “She won’t be any good to the investigation unless she can remember what happened.”

“Excuse me?” Sheridan was about to explain that she’d dealt with over a hundred criminal investigations in the past five years, that she’d have
something
to offer regardless of what she remembered. She probably had more experience dealing with violent crime than the whole Whiterock police force combined. But Cain had already answered, and Sheridan knew Amy didn’t care what
she
had to say. She cared only about Cain.

“At least she won’t be vulnerable,” he said. “She’ll have a safe place to heal.”

“Who’s going to keep her safe from you?” Amy snapped.

Cain rolled his eyes. “I’m no threat to her, and you know it.”

She glared at him. “You’re a threat to
every
woman, Cain.”

He ignored the comment. “I’ve got a quiet place that’s away from roads and buildings. And I’ve got the dogs. They’ll tell me if anyone’s coming.”

Ned exchanged a glance with his sister. “I don’t like it,” he said. But his tone had changed, and Sheridan sensed that he was only trying to support Amy. His professional objections had been neatly overturned.

“Someone could shoot your dogs. And then where would you be?” Amy asked Cain.

“Anyone who shoots my dogs had better pray I don’t catch them.”

Ned touched Sheridan’s arm. “You’d be safer with a guard.”

“Your doctor’s willing to release you. You don’t need Ned’s permission,” Cain said.

“My brother knows what he’s talking about.” The distress on Amy’s face almost made Sheridan feel sorry for her. She wanted Cain so much she couldn’t even take a pity project in stride.

But if Sheridan couldn’t go back to Sacramento, Cain was all she had. She certainly didn’t know anyone as capable of keeping her safe. He was the one who’d pulled her out of the forest, who’d saved her life. Besides, she’d been through too many battles since she left Whiterock to run from this one.

“I’m not afraid of Cain,” she said. But she wondered, even as she made the decision, if she wasn’t asking for the same kind of heartache Amy had endured since high school. There were times, even while she was making love with the man she’d nearly married, that she thought of Cain.

Maybe she’d never gotten over her own infatuation.

Cain stood at the entrance of Sheridan’s late uncle’s house, which was obviously furnished just the way it’d been on the day he died, despite the interim renter. The door had been locked, but the key was stashed under the mat, so anybody could get in. He saw no sign of forced entry. Whoever had grabbed Sheridan had either opened the door after she’d unlocked it or simply used the key, as Cain had. Or maybe she’d let him in.

Ned and Amy, or one of the other two policemen on the Whiterock force, had visited the house while Sheridan was in the hospital and made a mess dusting for prints. Powder in contrasting colors covered almost every surface. But they hadn’t found anything useful. He knew because he’d called Ned to see if they’d located Sheridan’s purse, and learned that they had—the contents were spilled all over the kitchen floor.

Now that the police were done, Cain planned to gather up her belongings and take them to his place, where Owen was looking after her in his absence.

A radio played in a back bedroom. Cain assumed it’d been on since Sheridan arrived. Maybe she’d been hoping to make the house feel less empty. Set on a rhythm-and-blues station out of Nashville, it broke the silence,
but given the stagnant air and closed-up feeling of the place, the music seemed more forlorn than comforting.