“I don’t want your sympathy,” John spat. “I want the truth. It’s time to come clean, Cain. It’s the only way we can heal, the only way this community can get past what’s happened.” He reached out to grab Cain in a beseeching manner, and Cain forced himself to allow it, to do nothing more than stare down at the long fingers curling around his forearm. The only father he’d ever known believed he was a murderer. But then, John had never been much of a father….
“Think of Owen and Robert. Think of Grandpa.”
“I didn’t do it.”
His stepfather’s grip tightened. “Please!”
“I didn’t do it!” He peeled John’s hand away, then let the door slam against the inside wall as he stalked out.
Sheridan had heard Cain shout those last words. The whole office had.
“Yeah, right,” Peterson muttered under his breath, but he didn’t intercede. He didn’t have the chance. Ned came in at that moment and drew his gun as soon as he saw Cain.
“You son of a bitch!” he screamed, aiming the pistol at Cain’s chest.
Sheridan’s mouth went dry as Cain stopped, heightened alertness brightening his eyes.
John Wyatt appeared in the doorway of Ned’s office, looking pale and drawn.
“Chief, what’re you doing?” Peterson’s voice was low, cautious. “Put the gun down.”
“He killed her.” Ned’s voice cracked with grief. “All she ever did was love him. All she ever wanted from him was a little bit of attention. And he killed her.”
A muscle flexed in Cain’s cheek, but he didn’t deny Ned’s charges. He didn’t respond at all.
“He can’t control who he loves any more than you can.” When Sheridan stepped in front of Cain, he shoved her to the side, even tried to put her behind him. But she fought to stay where she was.
“You’re not thinking right.” Jerking out of Cain’s grasp, she approached Ned. “You’re exhausted and you’ve been up too long. Put the gun away before you get yourself in trouble.”
“Sheridan, you’re going to get hurt.” Cain obviously wasn’t pleased with her intervention, but she ignored him.
“Move.” Ned waved the gun, indicating that he wanted her out of the way. “I won’t let him get off this time. I won’t see her buried and gone and watch him walk through town as free as a bird.”
Sheridan expected Cain’s stepfather to chime in. It was one thing to wonder if Cain was guilty, another to want him dead. But John didn’t say anything. He stood there looking shocked, his gaze shifting from Ned to Cain and back again, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“He didn’t do it.” Sheridan knew what Cain had been like after he’d found his ex-wife last night, how upset and hurt he’d been despite his frustration with her relentless pursuit.
So how did she convince Amy’s twin brother of that? With those dark circles under his eyes and what little hair he had left standing up on either side of his head, Ned looked like a crazy man. She didn’t think she could make him understand.
“He did it!”
“We don’t know that for sure, Ned. Not yet.” Peterson inched closer. “Why don’t you give me the gun so we can do this the right way? If Cain’s guilty, we’ll get him. You can bet your ass. I won’t sleep until I do. I loved Amy, too. This whole town did.”
John finally broke his silence. “Ned, stop it. Think about what you’re doing. We’ve suffered enough losses.”
Sheridan was all too aware of what he didn’t add—that Cain would never hurt anyone. John’s suspicion of Cain made it difficult to defend his stepson.
Sweat dropped into Ned’s eyes, causing him to squint and blink rapidly. “He did it. I know he did.” He reached into his pocket and tossed a letter onto the floor. “Here’s proof.”
Sheridan was tempted to pick it up, but Ned still had his gun pointed at Cain. She was afraid to allow him a clear shot. Instead, she watched as Officer Peterson retrieved the paper and read it aloud.
Cain,
Meet me tomorrow night at midnight, my place, or I’ll tell them you did it.
Amy
Peterson slowly lowered the paper. “Where’d you find this?”
“It was in her purse. Along with a stack of pictures of him.”
“Was she blackmailing you, Cain?” Peterson asked.
“No. She never gave me that note or any other like it. I don’t know what the hell it’s even referring to.”
“She wanted him so badly.” Ned’s voice was a half wail. “Ever since I can remember. She was miserable. Miserable because of you!” His hand shook as if he itched to pull the trigger.
Sheridan cut him off when he tried to get around her. “But he didn’t kill her,” she said quietly. “This note doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means she had something on him—that’s what gave him the motivation to kill her! Get out of my way!”
Sheridan didn’t move. “Amy was desperate to see him and was using any means at her disposal. That’s all. If you’d calm down for a minute, you’d see that, Ned. What about the pictures? She was obsessed with him, couldn’t stop thinking about him.”
Peterson set the note on the desk. “I’m afraid she’s right, Ned. How do you know you’re interpreting it correctly? It could be that Amy had something on him. But it could just as easily be that she was threatening to get him into trouble he didn’t deserve. For heaven’s sake, put the gun down.”
“He blew her head off,” Ned said, but he was no longer shouting. With tears filling his eyes, he finally lowered the gun.
Peterson rushed forward. “Come on over here and sit down, Chief.”
Sheridan turned to Cain. It was time to leave. Ned needed a chance to deal with his sister’s death, and Sheridan wanted to get Cain out of there. What if Ned changed his mind?
But when she tugged on Cain’s arm, he didn’t respond. He was staring at his stepfather, whose expression put a hard lump in her own chest. Maybe it was just for a second, but it was clear, even to her, that John had been hoping for another outcome.
Cain sat in front of the television, trying to get involved in the baseball game he’d turned on while Sheridan napped. She wasn’t strong enough to make it through a whole day without a little sleep. But now that she was awake and sitting on the other end of the sofa, all he could think about was pulling her to him and burying his face in the indentation above her collarbone or running his lips over her soft, smooth skin. She could make him forget everything—his antipathy toward his stepfather, Amy’s bloody remains, Ned’s hand shaking with the desire to pull the trigger. Everything. When they were making love last night, the rest of the world could’ve been destroyed and he wouldn’t have noticed. Or cared.