Watch Me (Last Stand #3)(80)
Author: Brenda Novak

“He saw you here tonight. N-nothing I said made any difference.”

Other than that small quaver in her voice, she sounded oddly subdued. “What happened?”

She sniffed. “Nothing more than I deserved. Anyway, it’s over between us.”

“You’ve had other fights. Maybe he’ll come around.” Cain didn’t really believe it. He’d known what this would mean, to both of them. But he wanted to offer her some hope. She was obviously crushed.

“No. He has too many hang-ups about you. He’ll never be able to overcome them,” she said and disconnected.

26

Sheridan sat next to Skye in the last pew of the church she and her family had attended when they lived in Whiterock. The funeral service hadn’t even begun but already the building was packed to overflowing. The sensational way Amy died had sparked more interest than Sheridan had expected.

She glanced at the people crowded along the back wall.

“Looking for Cain?” Skye asked, interrupting her search.

That was exactly what Sheridan had been doing, but she didn’t want to admit it. “Just wishing I could stand up, too. It’d be easier to see everyone.”

“Why don’t you?”

“You have to ask?” Sheridan gestured at her shoes. “I’d never make it.” She hadn’t planned on attending anything formal in Whiterock, so she and Skye had had to purchase the clothes they were wearing. Skye had chosen a simple black skirt, white cuffed shirt and black vest; Sheridan had bought a black sheath dress, as well as a strand of fake pearls and strappy shoes. The shoes were far too high to be comfortable for long, but she’d done the best she could with what she’d had to choose from. She was pretty sure Petra, the woman who owned the small boutique in town, had been a prostitute in an earlier life. To her, simple and elegant meant drab. It was all Sheridan could do to get out of the shop without fishnet stockings. “You need…something,” Petra had said, frowning at her ensemble.

“So…do you see anything unusual?” Skye asked now.

“Not particularly.”

“Tell me who everyone is. The only person I’m sure I know the identity of is the poor woman lying in the casket.”

Sheridan tried not to point as she indicated Ned in the front row. “That’s Amy’s brother. His wife and kids are on his left. His mother is on his right.”

“Who’s the guy on the platform who keeps looking over at the casket?”

“The one in the tweed jacket and blue tie? That’s Cain’s stepfather, John Wyatt. You know Tiger, and Pastor Wayne greeted us on the way in.”

“I remember. He’s the one who said he has an extra bedroom for you if you need it.”

Sheridan rolled her eyes. “You gotta love my parents.”

Skye laughed. “Aren’t you glad I showed up at Cain’s house instead of them?”

Sheridan nudged her. “Do you have to keep bringing it up?”

“That’s what friends do. I’ll be teasing you about it for the rest of your life.”

“Good to know.”

“Cain’s stepfather is quite distinguished-looking, isn’t he?”

“I guess. I like the silver at his temples.”

“How old is he?”

“Fifty-four or so. The woman he’s marrying is quite a bit younger.”

“Your former English teacher?”

“That’s right.”

“Where is she?”

Sheridan couldn’t find Karen Stevens. “I don’t know. But she’s attractive, too.”

They lapsed into silence as they waited for the service to start. The door opened and closed several times, but Cain didn’t come in. Sheridan picked Owen and his wife out of the crowd. Marshall was with him, and Robert sat in the same pew, looking sloppy despite his tie, which wasn’t long enough to reach over his bulging stomach. The police officer who’d questioned her that day in the station was just across the aisle from her, and she recognized several other people, most of whom she hadn’t seen in more than a decade. Many of them smiled or waved, but the atmosphere was as subdued as a funeral should be.

“This is just tragic,” the older lady on her right murmured to the man sitting next to her. “What’s the world coming to?”

“It’s really getting hot in here,” Skye grumbled over whatever the man said in response. “Are they ever going to start? At this rate, I’ll miss my plane.”

Sheridan’s eyes skimmed over the flower arrangements as a lady at the piano played another hymn. “You don’t fly out for three hours.”

“Exactly.”

Fifteen minutes later, the scent of carnations had become so oppressive Sheridan could think only of Jason’s funeral. She’d smelled the same scent there. Five minutes after that, most people were using their programs as fans, but at least the service was getting underway. His features arranged in an appropriately pained expression, Pastor Wayne adjusted the microphone at the podium as he waited for the crowd to quiet down.

The moment he’d finished praying, the door opened again, and Sheridan knew before she even looked that it was Cain. She heard the rumble of voices, could tell plenty of folks had been speculating on whether or not he’d have the nerve to show up.

Sheridan glared at the people who turned to stare at him, but he seemed impervious to their attention. No doubt he’d expected it. She’d heard Ned spouting off about Cain when she and Skye walked in, saying Cain had better watch out because Ned was going to see him in prison someday.

That kind of tough talk made Ned feel as if he was doing something about his sister’s death, but it merely proved to Sheridan that he had no viable leads. Otherwise, he would’ve had something more constructive to say.

She wondered what Ned would think when Cain told him that Tiger had driven past her place three times the night she was attacked. Tiger was probably the only one who knew where to find Amy the night she was shot—because he’d followed her there before. And he had reason to be angry about Sheridan’s being with Jason twelve years ago. In Sheridan’s opinion, he was as likely a suspect as anyone.

Cain moved to the far corner of the building instead of trying to find a seat, but if he’d hoped to blend in, he hadn’t succeeded. He was several inches taller than most of the other men and far more attractive. He wore black dress pants and shoes, along with a black tie and a crisp white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. And unlike the rest of them he hadn’t been cloistered in the church long enough to start sweating. Sheridan couldn’t help thinking how pleased Amy would be that he’d dressed up just for her.