“Better.”

“What about your memory of the attack? Anything coming back to you?”

“Nothing that’ll help. But I’m hoping you’re here with some good news.”

“That depends on how you look at it.”

“Cain said you couldn’t get any prints from the house.”

“That’s true.”

Sheridan situated her pillows so she could sit higher. “What about trace evidence?”

“We don’t have any of that, either. But we do have a witness.”

“To what?” Cain asked.

Amy’s pointed gaze cut in his direction. “Someone claims you had an argument with Jason just before he left to pick up Sheridan the night he was shot.”

Cain’s complexion darkened beneath his tanned skin. “Who?”

Triumph filled her voice. “Robert.”

“My stepbrother was thirteen years old at the time.”

“That’s old enough to know what an argument is.”

Cain stepped forward. “He wasn’t even home that night! He was out with my stepfather.”

Amy flicked a speck of lint from her uniform. “Are you saying your stepfather will back you up?”

A second’s hesitation revealed Cain’s lack of confidence in his stepfather’s support. “Unless he’s a liar.”

“That’s pretty funny, coming from you.”

“What’s funny about it?”

“You told me you didn’t have sex with Sheridan in high school. You said you didn’t sleep with her.”

Cain’s mouth formed a grim line, and Sheridan’s heart began to pound. This wasn’t something she wanted dragged out.

“Do you still hold to that?” Amy challenged.

He managed a stubborn nod.

“Then what do you make of this?” She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and flattened it out on the dresser before handing it to him. He read it aloud.

“A few weeks after Jason died, I was lying on my bunk bed, with Owen in the top bunk above me, and we were talking about girls. He said he knew all about sex. I didn’t believe him. He’d never had a girlfriend, and he was only fourteen. So I told him to quit acting like a dork. That’s when he told me he’d watched Cain—”

Cain stopped, but Amy finished for him, as if she’d memorized every word. “—having sex with a girl at a party. And that girl was Sheridan Kohl.” She smiled gleefully. “Robert signed it. It’s a legitimate statement.”

Sheridan’s body grew so warm she thought she might spontaneously combust. Owen had told someone. He’d told Robert. And now Robert was telling everyone else.

“Amy, what’re you doing?” Cain’s voice was low, his words more of a warning than a question.

Her eyes narrowed with jealousy and hatred. “Why’d you lie?”

“Because I didn’t want it to hurt her. Don’t you understand that?”

“You don’t care about hurting anyone.”

“It was a one-time encounter. It had nothing to do with Jason’s death.”

“Don’t kid yourself. It gives you the best motive we’ve found so far.”

She reached out to grab the paper, but Cain held it away from her.

Her laugh sounded brittle. “Fine. Keep it. I don’t need it. I can always get another one.” She turned on Sheridan, mouth twisted in a sneer. “You don’t deny it, do you?”

Sheridan wanted to, but doing so would be useless. She was sure her face had already betrayed her. “No.”

10

Karen Stevens sat across from John at Ruby’s Hideaway Steak & Seafood, which was the nicest restaurant in Whiterock. With the dark paneling and dim lighting, she could barely make out the expression on his face, but she thought he looked a bit pale.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

He glanced up from cutting his meat. “No, why?”

“You seem…withdrawn these days. Restless.” She knew it had to do with Cain and that rifle being found in his cabin, because that was when John had grown so reserved. The rifle incident had dredged up the pain of losing Jason. It also made the relationship between him and Cain even more difficult. She understood all that, but she didn’t like the sense that he was shutting her out. At the very least she wanted John to be able to share what he was feeling.

“Robert’s been drinking again,” he said, shaking his head in resignation. “I think I have to get him into rehab.”

John didn’t need this on top of everything else, but Karen had to be careful what she said about Robert. She didn’t agree with the way John handled his youngest son, any more than she agreed with how he handled his relationship with Cain—but for very different reasons. Robert needed to get out on his own and stop leaning on his father. Cain just needed love, but for some reason John couldn’t give him that.

“Have you talked to him about it?” she asked.

“You know how he is. All he’ll do is argue with me.”

“He wouldn’t listen even after he crashed into the shed?” She knew that hadn’t been a minor accident. Robert’s Camaro was still in the shop.

“He claims he won’t drive under the influence again.”

Karen was tempted to argue that John knew it wasn’t true, but she wouldn’t push him. Not tonight. He’d only clam up, and she wanted to talk. She missed the closeness they’d shared before that rifle showed up in Cain’s cabin. Maybe she hadn’t been interested in John when he’d first pursued her twelve years ago. But she was in love with him now.

“So what do you think?”

“I’m just frustrated. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve visited his trailer to find him passed out in his chair. And he spent his last two paychecks on computer accessories again.”

She chose her words carefully. “I thought you were going to make him start paying rent.”

“He spent the money before I could even collect!”

“But the job he got over in Fernley is going okay?”

John shoveled a bite of potato into his mouth. “No. He got fired two weeks ago.”

Karen saw John nearly every day. He was the custodian at the school where she taught. Besides that, he came over for dinner or spent the night at her place at least four times a week—during a normal week, anyway. He hadn’t stayed with her since that rifle was found. “And you didn’t think to mention it to me?”




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