Watch Me (26 page)

“I guess they made up.”

“When are they getting married?”

“Sometime in December.”

John’s heartbeat thudded in his ears. How did Cain know about the wedding? John had just left Karen’s. She made it sound as if she hadn’t told a soul, and John knew
he
hadn’t mentioned it to anyone.

“How do you feel about that?” Sheridan was searching for something deeper than “fine.” John could hear it in her voice.

“I’m not sure.”

Why would he care? What business was it of his? John ground his teeth, irritated that Cain actually thought there’d be implications for
him
.

Sheridan moved; then John couldn’t see her anymore. He could, however, see his stepson’s troubled face.

“Is there a reason you wouldn’t be happy for them?” she asked. What was she seeking? John wondered. She seemed oddly nervous, as though she dreaded the answer. But why—

Then they were interrupted. “Isn’t it getting a little late to be visiting an old friend?”

A third voice came from the direction of the hall and whatever Cain was about to say wouldn’t be said tonight.

“Yeah, it’s late,” he replied. “I’d better go.” He turned to Sheridan. “Sure you’re both okay here?”

The other woman’s strident answer overran Sheridan’s. “We’re
fine.”

John could see them again. He watched Sheridan put out her hand as Cain opened the door, but let it drop before she touched him. “Good night.”

“Night,” he muttered and the sound of the door closing echoed in John’s brain, along with the question
that made him sick with suspicion: Now that he’d finally convinced Karen to marry him—how come Cain was the first to know?

He’d almost told Sheridan. Cain had wanted to open up and share what had really happened the afternoon Ms. Stevens had invited him over to mow her lawn. He’d always been too ashamed to even think about what they’d done. As soon as an image from that encounter crossed his mind, he’d flinch and shut it out, refuse to remember. But he wanted to tell Sheridan before she found out some other way, wanted that chance to explain.

Which made no sense at all. What could he say? It wasn’t as if he could deny it.

He hesitated on the front lawn. Whether he told her or not, he wanted to protect her, wanted to
be
with her. It’d been almost impossible to keep his hands to himself while they were standing in the living room. The memory of her soft skin against his was too addictive; he imagined slipping his hand up her shirt to caress her while he kissed her.

But he’d always known she was meant for someone better, someone more like Jason. He’d understood that even back in high school. And yet he’d taken her virginity. He’d known how selfish he was being, even at the time. His determination to ignore her afterward only made matters worse. He could hardly expect her to trust him now.

Recalling the “you’re not worthy of her” accusation in Skye’s eyes, he forced his legs to carry him to his
truck. Sheridan’s friend was right; she was better off without him.

With a final glance at the house, Cain got behind the wheel. He saw his father’s station wagon at home, parked in its usual place out front so that Robert could get in and out. The lights were off.

Karen was probably asleep, too. She’d either be going to Amy’s funeral in the morning or she’d be at school. But Cain needed to hear what she had to say.

“A
re you mad at me?”

Sheridan stared at the television, struggling to answer Skye in a way that would satisfy her so she’d go back to bed. Sheridan needed time alone. Ever since Cain had left, she’d felt so unsettled. “No.”

No?
That was the best she could do?

Skye arched an eyebrow at her. “Maybe you could say that again and be a little more convincing.”

“I wanted to go home with him, Skye. It’s that simple.” Sheridan had to fight the urge to drive out to Cain’s cabin—and not only because she wanted to sleep with him. She felt as if he’d been reaching out to her tonight, as if he needed her.

But that was crazy. Cain never needed anyone.

Except the night Amy was murdered. Sheridan would never forget the way his hand had shaken as it covered her breast. He’d needed her then—to block out the bad and help him remember the good, to celebrate the pure essence of life. But she wanted something more lasting, didn’t she?

“So why didn’t you?” Skye asked.

“Because I’m getting too involved with him. It’s putting me right back where I was twelve years ago.”

“That’s not why.”

Sheridan watched her friend dubiously. “It’s not?”

“No. You would’ve taken that risk. You didn’t go because I’m here, and you feel obliged to stay with me.”

Headlights swept along the street. Half hoping it was Cain, although she knew that was highly unlikely, Sheridan stood up to see the car.

“Who is it?” Skye asked.

She recognized the station wagon. “Looks like John’s going somewhere.”

“This late?”

“I’m sure he goes to Karen’s at all hours.” Sheridan sat back down and continued to watch television, but Skye interrupted again.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m not helping you, Sher.”

Sheridan suddenly felt guilty. Skye had come halfway across the country, motivated by love and concern, and she couldn’t even act grateful. “What do you mean? Of course you’re helping me.”

“No.” Skye twisted her long hair into a knot. “I’ve come to the conclusion that this is something you have to wade through yourself. As much as I’d like to do it for you, I’m just making things more difficult.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. You need to go back to Cain’s, see where it leads.”

“It’ll lead to the bedroom,” she muttered.

“You told me he’s changed.”

“And you told me I’m seeing what I want to see.”

“Maybe I was wrong. Regardless, my being here isn’t going to save you from him. And he’s ready and willing to save you from everything else. I should go.”

It wasn’t practical to keep Skye away from her family. Sheridan had been aware of that ever since Skye showed up. “I won’t go back to Cain’s cabin,” she said. “Now that I’ve moved in here, I’ll stay and get the house ready to sell, like I promised my parents.”

“If you’re going to do that, you should take this.” Skye went into the kitchen and returned with a Kel-Tec P-3AT semiautomatic handgun.

“I don’t want a gun, Skye,” Sheridan said, refusing to take it.

“I know you don’t like them. But I also know you’re a decent shot, and it might save your life.”

“What if I’m overpowered before I even get a shot off? Then that gun could be used to kill me instead of save me.”

“What’s your other option?” Skye asked.

With a sigh, Sheridan took the semiautomatic and placed it under a couch cushion. “Fine.”

Skye frowned in disapproval. “You’re going to put it
there?
”

“It’ll be more accessible. Otherwise, I could be caught without it, wondering where I left my purse. And even if my purse is handy, I’d have to dig around, among all the other junk I’ve got in there.”

“I guess you’ve got a point.”

“So you’re leaving right away?” If Skye was relinquishing her gun, she wasn’t planning to stay much longer.

“Tomorrow, as soon as I can get a flight.” She
laughed, slightly embarrassed. “It’s not all you. I miss my husband and my kids.”

“I know.” Sheridan met her friend in the middle of the floor and gave her a fierce hug. “I’m sorry I’m so torn. I understand how frustrating it must be for you.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I’ve been through this myself, remember? Just catch the son of a bitch who tried to kill you.” Skye pointed to the couch where Sheridan had hidden the gun. “And promise me you’ll use that if you need to.”

“I’ll use it,” she said.

When Karen found Cain on her doorstep, she became more conscious than ever of their age difference, and the toll those extra years had taken on her body and her face. Maybe it was because they were alone for the first time in twelve years and she’d probably never be completely immune to him. Her reaction had nothing to do with John. She loved her fiancé. He evoked an entirely different set of emotions—peace, a calm contentment and appreciation for his companionship and support. John was the kind of man a woman married; Cain the kind of man she dreamed about.

That was the insight a little maturity had brought her. If only she’d known twelve years ago what she knew now. Back then, she’d cared only about obtaining the object of her desire. She hadn’t realized that being with someone less perfect, who accepted her and her flaws, would provide more satisfaction in the long run.

With a quick glance outside to make sure the lights were off in her neighbors’ homes, she pulled her robe
more tightly closed and gestured him inside. “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you earlier. John stopped by unexpectedly.” He’d brought a bottle of champagne to celebrate their engagement. It’d been a sweet, romantic gesture, and they’d made love for the second time in one day, which rarely happened. Maybe because he was older than she was by a decade and a half, John seemed content with sex a couple of times a week. He liked to cuddle or watch TV with her almost as much as anything more physical, which suited her fine. But he hadn’t been himself lately. Finding that rifle in Cain’s cabin had created a sense of urgency in him, an anxiety that had left him off balance.

Cain stepped inside, his eyes passing over her living room before taking in her appearance. As satisfied as she was with John, Karen wished she was more beautiful, more desirable—even irresistible. She didn’t want to be with Cain anymore, but she would’ve been flattered to see some appreciation in that handsome face, maybe a hint of regret for so easily passing up everything she’d offered him.

Instead, she noticed some very obvious signs that he didn’t want to be where he was—the slight rumpling of his eyebrows, the stern set to his jaw, the worry in his green eyes. “What’d you want to show me?”

Tucking her disheveled hair behind her ear with one hand, she raised the other in the classic stop signal. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” She hurried to her bedroom, found the note in her purse and brought it to the living room.

His eyes fixed on her engagement ring for a moment when she handed it to him. But then he opened the note.

A second later, his gaze lifted to meet hers. “Where’d you get this?”

“It was on my doorstep when I returned from school today.”

“You don’t have any idea who put it there?”

“None. But it’s not the first one I’ve received.”

His glower darkened considerably. “Where are the others?”

“I burned them. I—I had to get rid of them. I hoped…I don’t know what I hoped. That whoever it was would simply stop and it would be over, I guess.”

“It’s Robert,” he said.

She tightened her belt again. “Robert?”

“Amy said something about it to him once. He just mentioned it to me tonight.”

“How did Amy know?”

“I don’t think she
knew
. I think she suspected.”

Of course. She was so hyper-focused on Cain she could almost
smell
the interest of a rival. “And voiced those suspicions to Robert.”

He nodded.

Her knees went weak at this news. Robert was the last person she wanted connected with these notes. He competed with her for John’s love and attention and resources. He’d use what he knew to destroy her if he could. “He’s trying to get rid of me. That’s why he’s sending the notes. It’s a way to scare me off without involving John. But he’ll involve him if he has to. I have no doubt of that.”

As Cain studied her, she wished he’d give her arm a comforting squeeze or her shoulder a pat—something to
indicate he’d forgiven her and that they could at least be friends. She felt like such a fool for making the mistakes she had, for putting herself in this unenviable position.

But Cain didn’t touch her. He maintained a very careful distance. “He’s not sure,” he said. “And going to John could make it look like he’s out to get you any way he can.”

She couldn’t help wringing her hands. “So what do we do?”

“Deny it. If you love John, it’s your only choice.”

“And these notes? Should I go to Robert, tell him it’s not true?”

“No. If it’s not him, and he finds out there’s someone else who suspects the same thing, it’ll give him even more power.”

“What if whoever it is won’t stop? John could stumble on one of the notes, and then…” She didn’t need to explain what would happen “then.” They both knew.

“You’d have to do everything you could to convince him it’s a lie.”

Karen wished there was another way. She wanted to be honest, to confess her big sin and be forgiven, especially by John. Hiding the truth made her feel like such a hypocrite. But John would be hurt right along with them, and he didn’t deserve that.

“I’m so sorry I caused this,” she murmured.

“My best advice is to forget it.” Cain started for the door, but she stopped him with a question.

“Are you in love with her, Cain?”

Karen knew she had no right to ask. But she had to wonder if someone had finally captured the uncap
turable. And she wanted Cain to be happy. She thought it might be easier to forgive herself if she knew he’d settled down.

“Who?”

She smiled and shook her head. “You know who.”

“I’m not sure I know what love is,” he said. But it was merely an evasion. He knew what love was. He’d just never been consumed with it himself.

Karen had a feeling Sheridan was about to change all that.

He opened the door, but she stopped him again. “I’d like to be a friend to you, Cain. If we can ever get to the point where…where we can forget. I don’t want to come between you and your family. I’d like to…to facilitate a better relationship between you and John, if I can.”

She expected him to continue walking out and shut the door without a response. Or say something cynical like, “You’ve done enough already.” But Cain proved himself more generous than that. Turning, he gave her a half grin. “Marry John and be happy,” he said. Then he took her hands and pulled her toward him just long enough to peck her on the cheek. And she stood at the window crying with relief as she watched him leave.

Sick to his stomach, John hid in the bushes as Cain drove away. Karen’s porch light winked off, but he didn’t move. He remained crouched in the shadows of her yard, listening to his heart thud in his chest. He hadn’t been able to see anything, but he’d heard Karen’s soft “goodbye” before the door closed. It had been filled with emotion—
positive
emotion.

What the hell was going on? John couldn’t think of a single good reason for Cain to visit Karen’s house in the middle of the night.

Anger, now a living, breathing monster inside him, drove him to the door. The two of them had to be up to something. What was it? Were they sleeping together?

That thought made John want to throw up. If Karen was playing him for a fool, laughing behind his back while he handed her his heart on a silver platter, he’d make her pay. She’d be sorry.

He didn’t bother to knock the way he usually did. He had a key. Letting himself in, he moved as quietly as possible to her bedroom door, where he could see the outline of her body in the bed. She was asleep. Already.

“Karen?”

She rolled over as if he’d startled her. “John?”

“Surprised?” he said.

She didn’t reply, and that made him angrier still.

He stepped to the side of her bed. “Aren’t you excited to see me? I’m the man you love, remember? Your new fiancé?”

“I wasn’t expecting you. What…what’re you doing here?”

He could feel her fear. “A better question might be what was
Cain
doing here?”

Silence. “He, uh, stopped by.”

“Does he do that often, Karen? In the middle of the night?”

“No.” She sat up and shook her head. She seemed frantic to make him believe her, but she wasn’t explaining. Why wasn’t she explaining?

“Are you going to tell me why? Or would you rather leave that up to my imagination?”
Say something, damn it. Say something I can believe, before I beat it out of you.

“It’s not what you think. He…he wanted to wish us well. That’s all.”

The breathless quality of her voice caused a muscle spasm in John’s cheek. “He drove over here to wish us well,” he repeated. What a lousy liar she was. What had he seen in her, anyway? If she cared about him, she wouldn’t be lying to him. She wouldn’t be entertaining the one person he hated more than any other at three o’clock in the morning. Where was her loyalty?

“I—I called him earlier,” she said.

John sat on the bed next to her. “Because…”

“To tell him about our engagement, of course.” She laughed, but it came off as unbelievable as all the rest.

“Somehow, I find it odd that you’d want him to be the first to know. We decided I should talk to Robert and Owen before telling anyone, remember?”

She was weeping now, but John felt no sympathy. She didn’t deserve his love, didn’t deserve the life he’d envisioned for them. “Shh…” he admonished. “Calm down. I’m just asking you to tell me what’s going on.”

“Please, John.” She sniffed and gulped for air. “Try to understand. I—I feel sorry for Cain, that’s all.”

He laughed. “Then you’re one in a million, Karen, because he doesn’t inspire pity in too many people.”

“Listen to me.” Her fingers curled around his forearm. “He loved his mother so much, and…and he lost her.”