Watch Me (29 page)

Heart pounding, she wondered what to do. She couldn’t confront him with what she’d found. She might not live to tell about it if she did. She had to get off the property without being seen. She’d always known John
was obsessed when it came to his stepson, but until this moment she hadn’t understood the depth and breadth of that obsession.

Forcing herself to retrieve the mask, she stuffed it into her large purse. Ned would want to see it and, even though she hated what this would do to John, she had to turn it over to the proper authority. She couldn’t allow a man who’d done what he’d done to remain free.

As her fingers came into contact with the rough-feeling droplets on the knitted fabric, she shuddered. That had to be Sheridan’s blood.

Obviously, John would stop at nothing to see Cain punished.

John had spotted Karen’s car the moment he turned down the street, but he wasn’t happy that she was at his house. What did she think she was doing? He’d told her it was over, and he meant it. He’d never forgive her for making such a fool of him. As if their encounter hadn’t been bad enough, when he’d gotten home last night, he’d found a typewritten note on his doorstep:
Cain was Ms. Stevens’s pet for a reason.

Those words indicated that someone else knew. And if that was true, it was only a matter of time before everyone did. She’d allowed Cain to humiliate him, and his shame would soon be public.

Just the thought of being embarrassed like this was driving John crazy.

The house was unlocked, but Karen didn’t answer when he called her name—Robert did.

“Where is she?” he asked as soon as his youngest son
appeared at the entrance to the hall. For some reason, Robert had been in the back bedrooms.

“I don’t know,” Robert said. “I can’t find her.”

“Are you sure she’s here?”

“That’s her car out front, isn’t it?”

“Maybe she’s talking to one of the neighbors.”

“No, I saw her come in.”

Via the security cameras. Of course. “Maybe she went back out and you missed it on those little monitors of yours,” he said wryly.

If Robert was surprised he knew about the surveillance, he didn’t show it. “If anyone ever tries to break in, you’ll be glad I have those monitors.”

“I’m already glad. Someone left a note on my doorstep last night. I want you to tell me who it is.”

“I-I’m not sure the cameras picked that up.”

Doubt caused John to take a closer look at his son. “Sure they did. They pick up everything, right?”

Robert flushed but didn’t respond.

“You know, don’t you? Who was it?”

Again, no answer.

“Robert, you’re going to show me those tapes, so I’ll see for myself soon enough.”

“Fine, it was me,” he admitted, hanging his head. “I-I don’t have proof, but Amy once told me she thought Cain and Karen were involved, and…I thought you should know.”

He couldn’t have made him aware sooner? Before he’d bought an engagement ring? “Your note was a little late. She’d just told me herself when I found it,” he said.

“She did? And—”

“And we broke up, so you can be happy about that.”

“I wasn’t trying to break you up.”

“Right,” he said, letting the sarcasm that boiled up inside him drip onto the word.

“Dad—”

“Just tell me where it is.” What kind of game was Karen playing?

“I don’t know, but she’s here somewhere. I saw her arrive, but she didn’t leave.”

Motioning for Robert to hand him the phone, John dialed her cell and was rewarded by a barely audible jingle.

Coming from the garage.

K
aren’s cell was in her purse, along with that ski mask and a million other objects. She had no chance of finding it and silencing it before the sound gave her away. So she acted on instinct. Ducking out of the workshop, she tossed her purse toward the side door, which stood open to the backyard. The resulting clatter told her everything had spilled out as it fell, but she didn’t have time to worry about what she might lose. She’d already stepped into the workshop and hidden behind the door.

Someone came into the garage—she didn’t know if it was John or Robert. Her cell phone still chimed, despite hitting the concrete floor. She could hear rustling as someone navigated the mess and picked it up.

Pressing a hand to her chest as if she could slow the galloping of her heart, Karen squeezed her eyes closed.
Please think I dropped it as I ran. Please go out after me.

“What’s going on between you and Karen?”

Robert was asking the question. His voice came from the entrance to the house, so she knew it was John who finally silenced her cell. “We broke up.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer right away. Karen could hear him
moving around and guessed that he’d walked over to the side door to search for her. “Damn.”

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s gone.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

His voice grew angry, strident. “She’s been screwing Cain. That’s what happened.”

Anger made Karen’s eyes and mouth fly open at the same time. That wasn’t true! She
hadn’t
cheated on him.

“When did that start?” Robert asked.

“Twelve years ago, when Cain was in her class.”

Karen nearly whimpered. Robert hated her. If he wasn’t the one who’d already known, he knew now. This was all she needed to seal her fate. Her future in Whiterock was ruined.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Robert grumbled.

“Why?”

“Something Amy said.”

John cursed. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Cain denies it.”

“Of course he denies it. He’s lying. They both were. God, I hate them. I’ll hate them till the day I die.”

A tear slipped down Karen’s cheek. John had asked her to marry him only yesterday. How could one mistake, one mistake twelve years ago, destroy everything he’d ever felt for her?

“So…if you’re not together, why’d she come here?” Robert asked.

“That’s what I want to know.” Someone, probably John, pushed the garage door opener and the gears began to grind. “Her car hasn’t been moved.”

“Maybe she left on foot.”

“Must have.”

“What’s this?” Robert had come into the garage.

Karen held her breath, knowing instinctively what Robert had found, but John wasn’t paying attention. “She’ll be back.”

“Look here,” Robert said. “Where’d this ski mask come from?”

That got a reaction. There was some more movement; John, when he spoke, sounded as if he was just on the other side of the Sheetrock wall. “Where’d you get that?” he asked Robert.

“It was hanging out of her purse.”

No response.

“That’s weird, isn’t it?” Robert probed. “That she’d be carrying a ski mask in the middle of summer?”

“Maybe she was trying to get rid of it for Cain.”

There was a moment of shocked silence before Robert reacted. “Whoa! You really think so?”

“You know the kind of effect he has on women,” John said. “They’d do anything for him.”

Sheridan found Cain’s house dark and locked. The dogs were gone, and so was his truck.

She sat out on his porch for almost an hour, wondering whether or not to head into town, but decided to see if she could get inside instead. She knew he wouldn’t mind. He was the guardian of this forest, taking care of anything sick, injured or frightened.

She missed him and his care.

Hanging his tie, which she’d retrieved from the tree
at the church, on the front doorknob, she walked around the place. Several windows were open to catch the breeze. But she didn’t want to ruin any screens by trying to get in through a window, and the back door was as tightly locked as the front. She thought she might find a spare key at the clinic, but it was locked, too. The windows there weren’t even open.

Disappointed that she’d made the trip for nothing, she got back in her car. But just as she drove out of the clearing, she remembered Cain’s old cabin. He’d said he used it on occasion. Maybe he’d be there. And even if he wasn’t, she figured it was about time she examined the scene where that rifle had been found.

Karen stayed where she was for at least fifteen minutes after John and Robert had left. They’d lowered the automatic garage door and flipped off the light, so she was crouched in darkness, but that shovel was only three feet away. Positive that it’d been used to dig Sheridan’s grave, she was too terrified to emerge. John had the ski mask—he knew she’d found it. And Robert believed it had come out of her purse. With all the prejudice and suspicion surrounding Cain, and the string of women who’d fallen so hard for him, how was she ever going to convince Ned that she’d discovered the mask in John’s garage? John would claim she’d been planting it for her lover, as he’d suggested to Robert—that she was striking out because he’d broken up with her.

And Robert would be right there to back him up. No doubt they’d say the same thing about the shovel. Even if it originally belonged to John, there was nothing to
prove that he was the only one who’d ever touched it. Cain
could
have used it. He’d grown up in this house and definitely had access to it.

Think!
She had to devise a plan before John remembered that shovel, came back to remove it and found her cowering in his work shed.

But she was too nervous and scared to form much of a plan. She trusted the evidence—still quaked with fear, having experienced John’s violent rage last night—but she loved the man she’d thought he was. There were moments she felt sure she was crazy, assuming such terrible things.

That doubt could get her killed. She had to leave and get ahold of Cain or Sheridan, someone who’d believe her.

Grabbing that shovel, she moved cautiously, trying to keep quiet as she made her way through the mess. She was tempted to pause long enough to search for her phone and her wallet, but because there were no windows in the garage, it was far too dark to see such small items. She was better off leaving them behind, for now.

The backyard appeared to be empty. She waited at the open side door, listening for sound or movement, but heard nothing. Stepping out into the late-afternoon sun, almost blinding after the darkness, she squinted against the glare and put her head down. She couldn’t go to her car. She no longer had the keys. They were lying on the garage floor somewhere, or John had taken them. She suspected the latter. It was going to be tricky, but she had to get down the street to Sheridan’s house before John or Robert could spot her.

It was only a few doors away. She could do it, she
told herself, and opened the gate. But no sooner had she passed through than a hand darted out to grab her elbow. And she knew that touch so well she didn’t even have to look up to realize it was John.

The old cabin was locked up, too, but there was only a piece of plastic covering a window that’d been broken at some earlier time. Sheridan easily pried the tape away, then rolled a log close to the building so she could climb in without cutting herself. She fell on her butt but was pretty proud of herself for sustaining no injuries.

Dusting off her hands, she got up and looked around. She’d landed in the living room on a wood floor not far from a potbellied stove. The kitchen was part of the same room. A quick peek in the back revealed two bedrooms and a bathroom. Both bedrooms were being used for storage.

As she’d expected, this cabin was smaller and more primitive than Cain’s new house, but it had a futon couch that folded into a bed, a bucket of wood by the stove, and some matches and a jug for water on the counter. Not a bad place to camp out, she decided, and started looking for access to the cellar, where Cain had told her the rifle was found. She’d searched for outdoor access already and found nothing.

A small door off the kitchen led into a sort of lean-to designed to keep the extra wood dry. She poked her head into it, figured there were probably more rats and spiders in that pile than she wanted to deal with, and almost went back inside—until she spotted the outline of a small door with a latch. Kicking aside the few logs
that’d tumbled off the main pile, she unlatched it and opened the door so that it rested against the house.

Wooden stairs descended into darkness. She could feel the cool, damp air wafting up toward her. It was a refreshing change from the heat and humidity of the day, especially what she’d endured in that church during the funeral, and the earthy smell was equally inviting. Only the dark put her off. This cabin didn’t have running water or electricity, like Cain’s new place. She needed a flashlight.

Returning to the kitchen, she went through cupboards and drawers until she came up with one. The beam was dim, which meant the battery was low, but a weak beam was better than no beam at all. She took it with her as she went back into the lean-to and descended into the dank, dark space beneath the cabin.

Karen tried to jerk away, but John was too strong. “You must think I’m an idiot,” he said.

She didn’t know where Robert was. She didn’t see him. She just reacted. Raising the shovel she was carrying, she swung it at him like a bat.

The metal end made a sickening sound as it struck him in the head. Obviously, she’d surprised him. His eyes widened, then rolled back and he crumpled to the ground.

Karen had no idea how badly he was hurt. But she couldn’t risk having him wake up and grab her, so she turned to flee—and ran right into Owen as he was coming across the grass.

“Stop! What’re you doing?” he cried.

Tears rolled unheeded down Karen’s cheeks. She
knew she looked like a maniac. She’d dropped the shovel when she hit John and was desperate to escape. “He—he tried to kill me!” she shouted. “He tried to kill Sheridan Kohl, too! I—I found his mask and the—the shovel, and he…he hit me last night!”

She was spilling it all out, but maybe she wasn’t making any sense. Owen didn’t seem as shocked as she’d expected. He frowned as his gaze dropped to his fallen father, then he beckoned her toward his truck.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you to the police.”

Handmade racks lined the cellar walls, racks that held wine, preserves, canned tomatoes and pickles. Sheridan was pretty sure Cain hadn’t canned the food himself. He’d probably bought it from Ron Piper, who owned a farm on the outskirts of town. Ron grew more food than his family could eat, so his wife and kids sold produce all summer via a little stand on the highway. What they didn’t sell, Sandy and her girls preserved. Some of her recipes were becoming legendary, so she’d taken to selling the canned goods, too.

Sheridan picked up one of the jars and held it in front of her flashlight. Sure enough, it bore the Piper Farms label. Cain had obviously raided these shelves—there wasn’t a lot left. Or, more likely, the boys who’d found the rifle had broken some of the jars just for the hell of it. The smell down here suggested spoiled food.

Angling the beam of her flashlight into the corners, Sheridan tried to figure out where the gun had been. Perhaps Owen had simply leaned it up against the shelves. But that didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t he try to hide it?

And then she saw a patch of dirt where there’d been some digging. Maybe the rifle had been buried. It seemed possible, considering the recently disturbed earth. But why would two teenagers start randomly digging in a cellar?

The floor above her creaked. Wondering if she’d imagined that noise, Sheridan held her breath and listened. Because of what had happened to her already, she knew she was jumpy. But discounting her reaction didn’t stop the chills that ran through her. Did she have company?

No. She had an overactive imagination.

But then she heard another creak and another.

Yes. Someone was walking across the kitchen.

Karen didn’t know she was in trouble until Owen steered his truck right instead of left as he drove out of his father’s neighborhood.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He locked the doors. “We’ve got a problem.”

She knew they had a problem. His father was homicidal. They needed to go directly to the police station. Instead, they were heading into the mountains. Why? There was nothing out this way except wilderness.

And then other details began to occur to her. Owen had left his father lying on the ground without even attempting to get help, without even stopping to see if John was still breathing. He’d heard what she had to say and hadn’t questioned it, even though it must have sounded crazy. And he’d picked up the shovel she’d dropped and put it in the back of his truck.

Turning, she saw it vibrating in the bed of the truck
as they drove. Maybe that should’ve alarmed her from the beginning, but she’d been so shaken by what she’d just discovered, she’d thought Owen had the same idea she did—that the evidence needed to be shown to the authorities.

“Take me back to town!”

He didn’t look at her. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

She glanced at the shovel again. She was sure it had been used to dig Sheridan’s grave. Was it now intended to dig
her
grave? “Why not?” she asked.

“Because you’ve been snooping around, haven’t you, Karen? You’ve been sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“That was
your
mask.”

No answer.

“You put those things in your father’s workroom so they wouldn’t be on your own property.”

“It’s not like I was setting him up,” he said, as if he was more offended by that accusation than the accusation of attempted murder. “I just didn’t think anyone would look there. I mean, who’d ever suspect him of hurting anyone?”

She had. She’d seen how John had reacted to the news about her and Cain and assumed the worst.