Watch Me (Last Stand 3) - Page 55/97

“He didn’t tell anyone he’d lost it?”

“No. It wasn’t his to begin with. He figured, ‘easy come, easy go.’” He took a drink of his water. “Interpreted, that means he thought he might’ve done something with it when he was drunk.”

“But why didn’t he speak up when it was discovered in your cabin?”

“He said he didn’t realize it was the same gun.”

“I don’t believe him.”

“I think it could be true, at least at first. Then, after the police proved it was the gun that shot you and Jason, he was too scared to come forward for fear the blame would shift to him.”

“So he let everyone blame you instead.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, he doesn’t give a shit about me.”

“Why don’t you and Robert get along?”

Cain shrugged. “He’s a lazy slob. Even when he was a kid we couldn’t get him to help out with anything. All he wanted to do was play video games.”

“So your relationship wasn’t any better when you lived with him?”

“Actually, it wasn’t so bad then. He was the youngest in the family. It was easy to make up excuses for him. We all pitched in, figuring he’d change as he grew up. But letting him lean on us for so long only made matters worse. He’s still leaning on whoever will let him.”

Sheridan seemed to weigh this new information. “So…about the gun…”

“What about it?”

“Why would your grandfather have it in his possession?”

“Who knows? Grandpa was a pack rat. Anyone could’ve stuck the rifle under one of the tarps that covered various boxes of junk he kept in his sheds. We don’t even know for sure that Robert found it there, like he says he did.”

“What about the picture in Owen’s truck?” she asked.

Cain had explained his conversation with Tiger on their drive to town. “He’s blaming that on Robert, too,” he said, taking the picture he’d gotten from Owen out of his pocket and passing it to her. “That was Owen’s truck Robert was driving when we saw him at the nursing home.”

She unfolded it and stared down at herself, one hand over her mouth as she saw the holes in her face. “Does Robert have a digital camera?”

“He does. He fancies himself an amateur photographer and spends a lot of time tinkering with his photographs—when he’s not playing Internet war games with his online buddies, that is.”

“War games?”

“He’s always been fascinated by military strategy and gaming.”

They sat in silence for several seconds, that picture on the table between them. Cain wasn’t sure he should’ve shown it to her—with those vicious-looking holes slashed in her face. But she had experience in criminal investigation. He thought it was important to disclose what he’d found.

“Robert lives right down the street from my uncle’s place,” she finally said.

Cain nodded. “He was probably one of the first people to realize you were back.” He could easily have watched her, and taken that picture through the window. It wasn’t as if he had a wife to wonder where he was. Or anyone else who kept track of him.

The waitress brought his coffee.

“Cream?” Sheridan offered him the bowl that contained plastic cups.

Cain shook his head. “I like it black.”

She put it down and seemed to force herself to look back at the photograph. “Did he deny taking this picture?”

“Of course. He even handed me his digital camera, let me scroll through every shot. But that doesn’t mean anything. He could’ve downloaded the file onto his computer and cleared the memory.”

“He didn’t offer you access to his computer, did he?”

“No. But I plan on checking when I get the chance.”

She twirled her own water glass, making rings of condensation on the table. “Your grandfather doesn’t have many personal belongings in the retirement home. Just the basics. What’d you guys do with his stuff when you sold the house?”

“John took what he wanted for his own place, Owen chose a few keepsakes and Robert got most of the furniture because it was better than the junk he had in that old trailer. The rest they wanted to sell or give away. But it upset Grandpa to think that all his worldly possessions would be gone. So I packed them up and put them in the spare bedroom of the old cabin. Every once in a while I haul a box to the nursing home for him to go through. He really likes that.”

“I can see why. It brings back fond memories and makes him feel secure, as if the things he cares about are still around, waiting for him.”

Cain raised an eyebrow at the smile that spread across her face. “Why are you smiling?”

“You know how to take care of the people you love,” she said quietly.

He scowled to hide his embarrassment at the compliment. “It’s no big deal to store that stuff. I’m not even using the cabin.”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you understand the small stuff that means so much.”

For a moment, Cain forgot his stepfather was in the room. He even forgot what he’d recently learned from Owen and Robert and what it might mean. Forgot that he’d ever slept with Karen, that he felt partly responsible for Jason’s death, that he still missed his mother. As deep as all of that ran, for this one second, it didn’t touch him. Couldn’t touch him. The look on Sheridan’s face—as if she saw only the man he wanted to be and not the flawed human being he really was—protected him from all the mistakes, all the bitterness and grief, of the past.

A powerful desire to make love to her swept through him. But it had nothing to do with her physical beauty. There were plenty of beautiful women in the world. She had something else, something that promised him a more profound satisfaction.

His heart began to pound as their eyes met. He wanted her, and she knew it.

Her lips parted, but whatever she was about to say was lost when Karen stood up and shouted at John, “You can go straight to hell! Don’t ever call me again!”

Surprised, Cain turned along with everyone else in the restaurant to watch her storm out.

When Sheridan emerged from the shower, she couldn’t hear the television anymore. Cain had gone to bed. He’d turned off the lights. Except for the one in his bedroom. And he’d moved her suitcase in there with him. Which let her know where he expected her to spend the night. After what had happened to Amy, he wasn’t taking any chances. He was keeping her very close. But she wasn’t sure she could tolerate another night of sleeping chastely by his side. She already knew she’d lie awake, sensing his every move while dying to touch him.