“But Tweedledee is dead and now you’ve just got Tweedledum.”
“Skye!”
She raised a hand. “I know, I’m sorry. It was disrespectful. I’m just saying Whiterock doesn’t have much of a police force.”
“It used to be that they didn’t have much crime, either. I want to see my hometown safe again. I want to put whoever attacked me, and killed Jason and Amy, behind bars.”
Skye hefted her purse higher on her shoulder. “I can’t promise you won’t see Jonathan. As soon as he’s finished with the case he’s working on, I’m sure he’ll come out here.”
“He’s a damn good investigator. I could use his help if he’s interested.”
“We’re all interested. Just busy.”
“I can do it.”
“I know you can. And I guess now’s the time. I’ve watched you kick yourself for too many years over what happened to Jason not to realize how important this is to you. But, jeez, Sher—”
“I know. Be careful.”
“Be more than careful.”
“I got rid of that weird flasher guy who was stalking me last year, didn’t I?”
Skye’s eyebrows shot up. “The guy broke into your house, and you hit him with a can of chili because you wouldn’t use your gun. Are you sure you want to use that incident to bolster my confidence?”
“That can of chili really hurt! You should’ve seen the bruise. Besides, he was more odd than dangerous. He wasn’t trying to kill me.”
“Just don’t forget that this guy’s playing for keeps.”
The eyes that’d stared at her so intently as she struggled to free those strong hands from her throat flashed in Sheridan’s mind and sent a shiver down her spine. “I won’t.”
“So use your gun this time.”
“Okay. You’ve got to hurry,” Sheridan reminded her. “You’re going to miss your plane.”
“Right.” Skye hugged her goodbye and started off, then turned back. “What am I doing? I should be staying here. You can’t shoot anybody.”
An old man who was passing by stopped to look at them.
“She’s talking about pictures,” Sheridan explained. “I’m a photographer.”
Shaking his head, he gave them both a wide berth.
“You have children at home, Skye,” she went on. “They need you.”
“But I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to you.”
“We take these kinds of risks every day. It’s our job. It’s nothing new. Like you said, Jonathan will come when he can.”
An announcement telling travelers to keep their luggage with them at all times came over the PA system. Skye waited through it, still undecided, until Sheridan gave her a little shove. “Go! I’ll be home in a couple of weeks, probably before Jon can even finish with his case.” She knew that was optimistic, but it was all she could say to reassure Skye.
“I really hope I don’t regret this.” With a final hug, Skye wheeled her luggage into the terminal. And then she disappeared into the crowd.
“Tell me I’m not crazy,” Sheridan muttered as she got back into the car.
Cain hadn’t spent much time working since Sheridan’s attack, but he wasn’t worried about losing his job. He had more vacation days accrued than he’d ever need. And as long as he checked the campgrounds and turned in his reports, he’d be fine. There was no one looking over his shoulder; he’d been part of the agency too long for that. His boss knew he could be trusted to care for this land as if it was his own.
It felt good to be back in the forest. This was where he belonged, where he felt the most clarity and freedom. He wasn’t sure how he’d let himself get so caught up in the no-win issues involving his stepfather and Amy and Ned. He’d learned at a young age to avoid such emotional entanglements. But that damn rifle had drawn him in. Amy could’ve stood by him; she’d known all along that he wasn’t the one who’d shot Jason. Instead, she’d let him wriggle on the hook, which didn’t really surprise him. It was her own brand of punishment. But he thought it was generous of Tiger to come forward with her real opinion, and to pick a public forum to do it. No one could question Amy’s opinion on this because half the town had heard what Tiger said.
Including Sheridan.
Briefly Cain allowed himself to imagine her in that black dress she’d worn with her hair up. She’d looked far too refined for a hick town like Whiterock. He pictured her in a more intimate setting, closing her eyes and parting her lips as he buried himself inside her and, even now, felt himself go hard. She’d always been a distraction, the only girl who was out of reach, the only girl he shouldn’t touch.
And yet he had touched her. And that made him crave her all over again.
Koda barked at a squirrel and Quixote and Maximillian gave chase. Cain didn’t bother calling them back. They weren’t going to catch it. It skittered up a tree, clung to a branch and chattered at them as if mocking their attempt while Cain stopped to look inside his pack. Before he left the cabin, he’d taken his heavy-duty flashlight off its charger—but had he actually put it in with his supplies?
He hoped so. It wasn’t dark yet, but he was planning to check the backpacker campsite several miles into the forest, which meant he’d probably spend the night out here. He did that occasionally, especially in summer. There was a lake not far away, and he figured he’d sleep there. With Skye in town, it wasn’t as though he needed to worry about Sheridan. There was nothing he could do for her from his cabin, anyway.
Sure enough, the flashlight was right next to the plastic tarp he’d rolled up to put under his sleeping bag.
Perfect. Reclaiming the rifle he’d set on the ground, he whistled for his hounds, stepped over a fallen log and hiked farther up the mountain.
27
John wasn’t home. Karen had no idea where he might be. The truck Robert had been using since the accident was parked in the drive, so she knew the funeral was over.
She grimaced as she thought of Robert sitting in his trailer. Was he the one leaving those notes on her doorstep? She considered confronting him. If he hadn’t been harassing her, she and John would still be engaged. Her life wouldn’t have changed so drastically in a matter of twenty-four hours. But she couldn’t go after him. She still had too much to lose. That was why she’d come, why she was growing more frantic by the second.