“I can take care of myself.”
“But cases like this drag on. You know that. What are the chances we’ll solve it quickly, even if you get involved?”
“Better than if I don’t.” She clapped her hands. “But let’s not worry about that right now. Let’s see what we can dig up and go from there.”
Sheridan leaned on the back of a kitchen chair. “You’re crazy,” she said, but what she really meant was, “I’m glad you’re my friend.”
“You’d do it for me,” Skye responded.
“But I don’t have a family at home.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon, so you might as well quit trying. Just tell me whether we should stay at the motel or move back here.”
That was the decision Sheridan didn’t want to make. Whoever had tried to kill her had known where to find her and had invaded her space so easily—this space. She didn’t feel safe here. But she hadn’t been expecting trouble at the time, so she hadn’t been prepared to defend herself. And murders happened in motels, too. It was more about watching her back than staying in one place instead of another. If whoever had attacked her really wanted to, he’d find her no matter where she went.
“We might as well save a few bucks,” she said with a shrug.
“I agree.” Skye started for the door. “Come on, let’s get our suitcases.”
Wondering if she’d be able to live with her choice, Sheridan lingered in the kitchen—until she heard someone at the front door.
“Well, hel-lo there. Who’re you?”
It was a familiar voice, but Sheridan couldn’t immediately place it. Turning the corner, she saw Cain’s youngest brother standing on the stoop, lowering his sunglasses in order to give Skye an appreciative once over.
Dressed in a Harley T-shirt with the sleeves ripped out and a pair of jeans, he was wearing flip-flops that revealed disgusting feet with overgrown toenails. A dragon tattoo covered the upper part of one arm; R.I.P. Jason in blue and red ink covered the other.
Sheridan watched Skye return the exaggerated perusal. “I’m Skye Willis,” she replied. “A friend of Sheridan’s from Sacramento. Are you the man who attacked her?”
Robert shoved his sunglasses back up to the bridge of his nose. “Um…no,” he said in obvious surprise.
“Good.” Skye nodded decisively. “Then I won’t have to shoot you.”
He laughed as if he didn’t know whether she was joking. Sheridan wasn’t completely sure herself. “She’s spunky,” he told Sheridan as he spotted her. “I like that.”
“She’s also married,” Sheridan said. “Skye, this is Cain’s youngest brother.”
“Stepbrother,” Robert clarified.
“Stepbrother,” she repeated, but she had to hide an ironic smile at his concern about the distinction. She could understand Cain’s being reluctant to claim Robert, not the opposite—but then, if Robert could really see himself, he’d probably clip his toenails.
“What can we do for you?” she asked.
“I was on my way home, saw some activity over here and thought I’d stop by and welcome you. It can’t be easy coming back to this house after what happened.” Apparently, it was Sheridan’s turn to be checked out because the sunglasses slid down again. “Hey, you’re looking better. The bruises are fading.”
It was a struggle to keep her indifference toward his opinion out of her voice. “Thanks.”
“I also wanted to let you know that I’ll keep an eye on the place from now on,” he added with a wink that did absolutely nothing to allay Sheridan’s fears.
“Robert lives in a trailer behind his father’s home across the street and four houses down,” Sheridan explained to Skye.
“It’s the one with the metal dinosaur out front,” Robert said. “My dad makes those.”
“Did you see or hear anything unusual the night Sheridan was attacked?” Skye asked, obviously uninterested in John’s hobby.
“Not a thing. Cain stopped by earlier that evening, but that was about it.”
Sheridan couldn’t help resenting the way Robert kept trying to connect Cain to everything that had happened. He’d told Amy about the argument between Cain and Jason the night Jason was murdered. He’d blabbed what Owen had told him about the camper. And now this.
She folded her arms. “Does he come by very often?”
She hoped to get a positive answer, so she could accuse Robert of highlighting details that were irrelevant. If Cain visited the house from time to time, it wasn’t remarkable that he would’ve been there the night she was attacked. But given his relationship with his stepfamily, he probably didn’t go to their place often.
“Not really,” Robert said.
“So this was unusual?”
“Sort of. We certainly weren’t expecting him.”
“What’d he want?”
“He came to talk to my dad about Grandpa.”
That sounded like Cain. Sheridan was tempted to smile at his love for Marshall. But then Robert continued.
“He didn’t stay long enough to say much, though. Karen Stevens showed up a few minutes later and as soon as he saw her—” Robert clapped his hands for emphasis “—he took off.”
Skye’s gaze shifted between them. Obviously, she was drawing her own conclusions about Robert. But Sheridan was too preoccupied to guess what they might be. “Are you suggesting he left because of Karen?” she asked Robert.
“That’s exactly what I think. Happens every time. For some reason, he hates even being in the same room with her.”
“But Karen used to be Cain’s favorite teacher. Why would her presence bother him?”
A devilish smile twisted Robert’s lips. “Maybe he liked her a little too much. Maybe he wasn’t just cleaning her erasers after school.”
Sheridan’s stomach tightened. When she and Cain were in high school, Karen Stevens had dated John Wyatt soon after Cain’s mother died. Their relationship had started clear back then. Surely Cain and Ms. Stevens hadn’t crossed that line….
But now Robert had mentioned it… Sheridan recalled that Ms. Stevens had shown unmistakable favoritism toward Cain. That kind of history would make sense of her manner and her words in the restaurant. It’s not easy to walk away from a man like that….