Watch Me (Last Stand #3)(4)
Author: Brenda Novak

“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 ass**le. 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.

“I don’t know what he thinks,” Owen said, but his voice held no conviction and that revealed the truth.

3

It was midday when Cain returned home. Ned had shown up just after Cain had admitted Sheridan, and he’d made a fuss—probably to deflect any speculation about the time he’d spent messing around last night. He’d asked all kinds of questions Cain had no way of answering and made a point of letting the doctors know he’d be staying in close contact, waiting for the first moment Sheridan was capable of holding a conversation.

Cain figured Ned would be waiting for a few days. The doctors were keeping her unconscious to relieve the swelling in her brain. Fortunately, that swelling wasn’t bad enough that they’d had to drill holes in her skull, but it could get worse, so they wanted to keep her perfectly still. Whoever had beaten her had done a damn fine job. Besides the head injuries and the cuts and scrapes from being dragged through the woods, she had a bruised liver and a damaged kidney.

Cain hadn’t wanted to leave. It felt like he was abandoning her. But he couldn’t tolerate being around Whiterock’s chief of police for more than five minutes, and Ned wouldn’t go anywhere as long as Cain was in the room.