Watch Me (Last Stand 3) - Page 75/97

“I doubt anyone’s thought to ask him. Why would they?”

“I think it’s time we posed the question, don’t you?”

“Damn right.” Cain frowned at the screen. Sheridan had left the DVD running after the third sighting of Tiger’s truck, but nothing else showed up. Robert pulled out of the drive about nine-thirty and didn’t return before the taped segment came to an end. That was all.

“You told me Robert watched this, right?” Sheridan said.

Cain made a sound of acknowledgement.

“Didn’t he find it odd that Tiger would drive by three times?”

“I’m sure he can’t imagine Tiger attacking you or killing Jason. He and Jason were good friends.”

“Maybe that’s what enraged him.”

“You two broke up months before the shooting.”

“That doesn’t mean he was over it.” Yes, some feelings faded over time. Her brief infatuation with Tiger had disappeared in a matter of three months. She’d only hung on longer than that because they were comfortable together and she didn’t want to risk losing his friendship. But sometimes things just were what they were, regardless of the passing days, weeks, months. When she’d first returned to Whiterock, the thought of encountering Cain had evoked a response despite twelve years of having no contact.

Remembering how angry Tiger had been when she broke up with him, how sullen and withdrawn he’d acted afterward, she said, “Maybe he’s twisted. Maybe no one knows how twisted.”

Cain reached around her to start the playback over again. “Twisted enough to kill the woman he loves?”

As Sheridan watched Tiger’s truck pass her uncle’s house yet again, she knew Cain was thinking of that note in the dirt. “Maybe he got tired of the fact that Amy wouldn’t let go of you and decided this trip to your cabin would be her last.”

“I suppose it’s possible.”

“That he’d do it on your land is even a little poetic, especially the part where he sets you up to take the blame. Maybe he feels you deserve it because you were the obstacle standing between them.”

“I don’t know how I could’ve tried harder to get out of the way,” Cain said.

Sheridan knew he didn’t fully understand Amy’s fixation. How could he? As far as she knew, he’d never fallen so hopelessly in love.

But she could relate, to a point. She had too much pride to allow herself to be an unwanted nuisance, but she’d loved Cain almost as long as Amy.

The humid, stagnant air in the four-foot crawl space beneath Sheridan’s uncle’s house made John sweat. But he wasn’t about to open the heavy plank door to the side yard, which was how he’d gotten in. The neighbor next door might see it if he left it hanging that way. Besides, uncomfortable as he was, he was too preoccupied with trying to hear what Cain and Sheridan were saying to step away from the hole he’d drilled in the living room floor.

“That seems like a pretty elaborate system just to protect a few thousand dollars,” Sheridan was saying.

“Maybe he has more than a few thousand,” Cain responded.

“Why wouldn’t he stash it somewhere safer?”

“Owen said he doesn’t trust banks anymore. But I don’t know when that happened. He’s never indicated a thing like that to me.”

That surprised Cain? They never even talked anymore. John wished he could cut Julia’s son out of his life permanently.

“You’re telling me he doesn’t know that Robert’s installed security cameras around the house?” Sheridan again.

“According to Robert, he doesn’t. And, if he did, I think I would’ve heard something about it, if only a complaint that Robert was spending money he should have put toward utility bills or groceries.”

“But how could John miss the cameras?”

“Robert hid them well. I scanned the eaves on my way out. It was dark and he was watching from his trailer so I didn’t stop, but even knowing they were there, I couldn’t find them.”

That Robert could be so sneaky made John a little uncomfortable. If he hadn’t come across the wrapping materials for that equipment stuffed in the recycle bin outside, he might not have known what Robert was up to.

But it didn’t take him long to figure out that recording everything around the house had its benefits.

“Are you going to confront Tiger?” Sheridan asked.

“Definitely,” Cain said.

“When?”

“After the funeral tomorrow.”

A few minutes ago, John had overheard them say that Tiger had driven down the street a number of times the night Sheridan was attacked. Was it because he’d seen something through the window of Sheridan’s house? And, if Robert knew Tiger was around, why hadn’t he said so? He could’ve claimed to have seen Tiger’s vehicle without giving away the fact that he had a security system in place.

Cain and Sheridan’s voices grew louder.

Holding his breath, John pressed closer to the peephole he’d created, hoping to catch a glimpse of them. They were walking back into the living room, but he couldn’t see them yet. The hole didn’t give him that much range.

“I don’t want to leave you here alone,” Cain said.

“I’m not alone. Skye’s in the other room.”

“Whoever’s doing this could kill you both. You realize that.”

He and Sheridan had finally come into view. Cain was leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, obviously in no hurry to leave, although he looked absolutely beat.

God, he was a tough son of a bitch. No one knew that better than John. He’d never forget the time Cain had challenged him over the funeral arrangements for his mother. John had been trying to save a few bucks. Most kids wouldn’t have been paying attention, but Cain wasn’t like most kids. He always paid attention, and he wasn’t afraid to insist. He’d basically shamed John into providing what he called a “decent” coffin and a “respectable” marker by saying he’d raise the money for those things himself, if he had to. John couldn’t lose the commiseration and support of the whole community. So he’d agreed. But he resented the way Cain had forced his hand, just as he resented most things about Cain.

“It’s late,” Sheridan was saying above him. “You’ve got to get some sleep. You’re nearly dead on your feet.”

Not as dead as John wished. Even when Cain was young, he’d made John’s life miserable, but not for any reason John could clearly name. That was what he found most frustrating. Cain’s effect on him was so…subtle. He made John feel inferior without even trying. The day Julia and her boy moved in, John had brought home some flowers and a box of chocolates he’d actually bought for another woman, who’d refused them because she’d heard he was getting married. There was no way Cain or Julia could’ve known the history of those gifts, and yet the moment John gave them to Julia, Cain’s eyes had connected with his as if he could read the truth—