He craved more of that potent painkiller. But he wasn’t going to touch her. She’d made it clear that she didn’t want him to.
“Where were you?” she asked.
He allowed his eyes to move toward her, even though the sight of her in that sundress made him hard. “When?”
“The night Jason was killed.”
He didn’t want to talk about Jason, but at least that subject would obliterate his desire to make love. “I was at Rocky Point. For a while.”
“I know that much. I saw you there. But then you left with someone before the…” He watched her draw a deep breath. “Before the shots went off.”
He’d left, yes. But he’d gone alone. He’d seen her with Jason, assumed they were making out and couldn’t stand the thought of it. So he’d told his friends he was going home. Since he’d come with someone who wasn’t ready to leave, Amy had offered him a ride, but he’d refused. He knew what she’d want to do, knew he couldn’t deliver—not when he was so upset about the idea of Jason kissing Sheridan. So he’d walked home. He hadn’t known anything was wrong until he showed up at the house in time to receive a call from the police.
“I walked home by myself,” he said. And he’d cut through the forest so he wouldn’t be seen slouching miserably along the road—another reason he had no alibi.
“Where were Amy and your other friends?”
“They stayed at Rocky Point.”
“What made you leave so early?”
He studied her. He didn’t really want to reveal how he’d hated thinking of her in Jason’s arms. It proved that everyone who claimed he was jealous was right. And it would let her know she’d been successful in making him feel what she’d been hoping he’d feel. But they were kids back then; he was too old to play games like that now. “You have to ask?”
She raised her hands in a defensive posture. “It had nothing to do with me.”
He muted the television. “How do you know?”
“Because you couldn’t have cared less about me. I understand that—now that I’m not so naive and stupid.”
“What, you’ve slept around enough to become an expert?”
“No, but I have enough experience to know when to take something seriously and when to let it go.”
She didn’t know anything. Like his father and everyone else, she simply assumed the worst.
Shaking his head, Cain turned back to the television. “Don’t tell me what I feel.”
“I couldn’t begin to guess what you feel. I’m just trying to figure out how to prove you weren’t in the vicinity when that shot went off,” she insisted.
“There’s no way to prove it.”
“Why not?”
“Because no one saw me from when I said I was leaving until I showed up at home after it was all over.”
The phone rang. Using that as an excuse to remove himself from the conversation, he grabbed it. “Hello?”
“Cain? It’s Tiger.”
Not someone Cain wanted to speak to so soon after what’d happened. Tiger had to be as broken up as Ned. He’d cared about Amy, maybe even loved her. “Tiger,” he responded, swallowing a heavy sigh.
“I just, I wanted to—” Tiger’s voice cracked “—to ask you something.”
Cain gripped the phone tighter. Here we go again. “What’s that?”
“Did you call Amy last night? Did you ask her to come over?”
“No.”
“That’s what I thought.” Tiger chuckled without mirth. “Would you believe she was supposed to be getting me some beer? I was sitting on her couch watching a movie while she sneaked over to your cabin.”
Cain didn’t respond. Nothing he could say would make the situation any better.
“Why is that?” Tiger asked. “Maybe you can tell me.”
“It’s possible someone tipped her off to trouble, I suppose.”
“No.” Tiger sounded resolute. “No one called here.”
“It could’ve been after she left, maybe through dispatch.”
“There’s no record of it. Ned checked. She didn’t receive any calls on her cell phone, either.”
Cain propped up his forehead with one hand. “What’re you driving at?”
“Why did she leave a perfectly comfortable evening with me to drive over to your cabin, where she was murdered.”
“I can’t answer that, Tiger. I have no idea.”
Tiger gave another bitter laugh. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. Please.”
“I wasn’t sleeping with her, if that’s what you’re getting at. I haven’t touched Amy since before our divorce.” Cain was facing a lot of doubt and accusation, but it somehow mattered that Tiger believe him on this.
“I know,” he said.
Surprised that Tiger had accepted the truth so easily, Cain lifted his head, but Tiger continued before he could respond. “Unfortunately, I also know it wasn’t because she didn’t want to. She would’ve slept with you in a heartbeat if you’d given her the chance.”
Cain didn’t respond. He didn’t have to.
“I thought I could eventually win her over, you know? I thought she’d realize you weren’t going to change your mind, that I was the best thing she was ever gonna get. But she was such a stupid bitch.” His words were harsh, but he was choking up when he said them.
“I’m sorry, Tiger. I wish the situation could’ve been different.”
“That’s the real kicker. I believe you on that, too.” Tiger laughed again, then seemed to get hold of himself. “I have to tell you something.”
Cain glanced at Sheridan, who was watching him intently. “What’s that?”
“I saw a crumpled picture of Sheridan in the cab of Owen’s truck yesterday afternoon.”
Cain’s heart skipped a beat. “Sheridan as a teenager?”
“Sheridan as an adult. As she is now. And someone had stabbed a pen or something through her face.”
“Where were you?”
“At the baseball field. I went to watch my nephew’s Little League game and ran into Owen in the parking lot. We were talking while his son got out of the truck. The picture nearly fell onto the blacktop, along with some fast food wrappers.”
Cain could imagine the garbage in Owen’s truck. It was so messy, his wife refused to ride in it. What Cain couldn’t imagine was Owen in possession of a current photograph of Sheridan. Why would he have one? “Can you tell me anything about the picture? Where it was taken, maybe?”