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Watch Me (Last Stand, Book 3), by Brenda Novak
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Teenagers Sheridan Kohl and Jason Wyatt were parked at the lake in Whiterock, Tennessee, when a stranger wearing a ski mask shot them both. Sheridan lived but Jason died—and the stranger was never caught. Even though Sheridan's family moved away right afterward, she's never been able to put the crime behind her.
And now that someone doesn't want her to come home
Because of a new development in the case, Sheridan returns to Whiterock. But when she's attacked a second time, it's only because of Jason's stepbrother, Cain Granger, that she survives—and Cain's the last person she wants to face. If not for their history, if not for her, Jason wouldn't have been in that parked car.
Cain knows that whoever killed his brother probably isn't a stranger at all. But figuring out that person's identity is easier said than done—especially since the killer seems to be taunting them both:
watch me.
- Sales Rank: #2219131 in Books
- Published on: 2008-08-01
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 6.62" h x 1.18" w x 4.21" l,
- Binding: Mass Market Paperback
- 448 pages
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Brenda Novak has penned over 45 novels. A two-time Rita nominee, she's won The National Reader's Choice, The Bookseller's Best, The Bookbuyer's Best and many other awards. She runs an annual online auction for diabetes research every May at www.brendanovak.com. To date, she’s raised over $2 million. Brenda considers herself lucky to be a mother of five and married to the love of her life.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary: men alone are quite capable of every wickedness. —Joseph Conrad
Was he gone?
Sheridan Kohl lay in a heap on the ground, her clothes, her cheek, the entire left side of her body, wet from the moist earth. The taste of her own blood sat bitter on her tongue, but the fecund smell of the thick vegetation growing all around reminded her of her childhood. She'd grown up in eastern Tennessee, in the small town of Whiterock.
Not that this was the kind of homecoming she'd expected.
The scrape of a shovel let her know the man who'd attacked her was still close. So close she dared not move or even whimper.
After a few turns of his spade, his breathing grew labored, and she heard him grunt every so often.
Scrape…plop. Scrape…plop. The digging obviously wasn't easy, but it was rhythmic enough to tell her it was progressing. Although he wasn't particularly tall, he was strong; she knew that already. Even after she'd managed to get free of the rope that had bound her wrists, she hadn't been able to fend him off. Her determination to fight had only made him angrier, more violent. She was sure he would've killed her if she hadn't gone limp.
She gingerly explored her top lip. It was split, but that was probably the least of her injuries. Unless she angled her head just right, blood rolled down her throat, choking her. She could barely open one of her eyes. And his fierce blows to her head had left her dazed, unable to think coherently. On some level, she knew she needed to get up and run now that he'd turned his attention elsewhere. But she couldn't stand, let alone make a dash for freedom. It was painful just to breathe.
The promise of complete darkness and total silence hovered at the edge of her consciousness. She longed to embrace it, to drift away and leave her broken body behind. But her best friend seemed to be standing at her shoulder, shouting: Get up, damn you! Don't allow this, Sher. Gain the upper hand no matter what you have to do. Fight for your life! For a moment, Sheridan even wondered if she was sitting in one of Skye's self-defense classes back at the victims' charity they'd started five years ago.
But then she felt the rain, lightly sprinkling her parted lips, forehead, eyelashes. She was in the forest in the middle of the night, alone with a man wearing a ski mask.
And he was digging her grave.
The dogs, barking andjumping against the chain-link fence, woke Cain Granger from a deep sleep. He told himself it was probably just another raccoon or possum, and rolled over to go back to sleep. But when the racket didn't stop, he realized it could also be a bear. He'd spotted a couple of black bears in the area the week before; they seemed to be foraging closer and closer to the house.
"I'm coming," he grumbled. Forcing himself to get out of bed, he yanked on a pair of jeans and some work boots. It was the height of summer—too hot and sultry to bother with any more clothes, even in the mountains. A bear would have no opinion on how he was dressed. But by the time he'd grabbed his tranquilizer gun and reached the dogs' pen, he didn't see a bear or anything else, at least not in the immediate vicinity.
"Quiet down!"
The dogs stopped barking, but they didn't come toward him. All three coonhounds stood rigid as statues, sniffing the air and pointing with their noses, as if they were tracking.
Cain frowned at this odd behavior, but he was too tired to do much about it. If the bear wasn't close enough to cause any harm, he didn't care to mess with it. Drugging and transporting such a large animal was a major feat; he knew because he worked for the Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency, and it was the kind of thing he did for a living. "I'm going back to bed," he told the dogs and started toward the house, but Koda, his oldest and smartest hound, gave a warning growl that brought Cain up short.
Koda didn't spook easily….
Instead of returning to the house, Cain opened the gate and all three dogs raced toward him, shimmying and shaking, but not barking because he'd already chastened them for making too much noise. "What's up?" he asked, patting each of them. They generally loved his attention, reveled in it as long as possible, but tonight they tried to slip between him and the fence so they could head out into the forest.
"Hold on." He was planning to put them all on leashes, but Koda didn't want to wait. The black-and-tan bounded to the edge of the clearing, then glanced back for permission and whined.
"If it's a bear, you'll get your ass kicked," Cain told him, but Koda wouldn't attack a bear. Not on his own. The dogs would corner and hover until he arrived—and hopefully they'd be quick enough to get out of the way if a bear charged them.
He relented with a wave. "Fine," he said, "do it."
And that was all it took to send the hounds racing out ahead of him.
Taking a flashlight from the shed, Cain jogged behind them, using the noise they made as a guide.
It wasn't long before the tenor of their barking changed. They'd found something.
Picking up his pace, he shone the flashlight to avoid obstacles. The moon hung full and bright overhead, but it was beginning to rain, and the extra light helped when he had to weave through the shadowy trees. A lot of stumps, pinecones and broken limbs littered the ground. But there weren't many people in these mountains. That was why Cain loved them so much.
The dogs grew louder, more excited, as he neared the far corner of his property. Whatever they had was on his land.
He put the tranquilizer rifle to his shoulder, in case he needed it, and came up behind Koda. But they hadn't cornered a bear. They hadn't cornered anything threatening at all. From the looks of it, they'd surrounded a life-size doll.
Was this a joke? The boys in town, with whom he occasionally had a few beers, liked to pull pranks….
"Take it easy." He spoke low in his throat, his tone warning the dogs to calm down and back off. Reluctantly, they inched away—and that was when Cain saw that it wasn't an inflatable doll or a mannequin or any other inanimate object. It was a woman.
"What the hell?" Whoever she was, she'd been badly beaten. She wasn't moving, wasn't responding to the noise and activity around her.
Was she dead?
Cain used his flashlight to search the surrounding trees. He appeared to be alone with the woman, but the existence of a discarded shovel and a partially dug hole a few feet to his right told an unsettling story. Apparently, someone had murdered this woman and brought her out here to bury her.
No wonder his dogs had been going crazy.
"Son of a bitch." He should've come sooner. Maybe he could've saved her.
Setting his gun on a nearby log where he could get it in a hurry, he commanded his dogs to get out of the way and knelt beside her. Her limp wrist felt small and fragile in his hand. Thick black hair had fallen over her face; he could see, even in the darkness, that it was matted with fresh blood.
What must she have gone through? Who was she? And why had this happened?
Cain was so sure she was already dead the faint fluttering of her pulse surprised him. But it was there— thank God, it was there.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he silently begged her to hang on while he tied his gun to Koda's collar so the black-and-tan could drag it home.
He had to get this woman some help. Fast. But there was no time to put her in his truck and drive seventy miles to the closest hospital. She'd never make it.
Lifting her gently, he carried her to the clearing near his house and animal clinic. He'd have more room for her in the clinic, an easier place to wash her up. But as clean as he kept it, he couldn't imagine putting a human being where he'd been nursing sick and injured dogs, cats, horses and the odd coyote, deer or bear. Opting for the house, he shoved the front door open with his shoulder, then brought her to the spare room, where he laid her on the bed.
Her head lolled to the side, smearing blood on the bedding, but the mess didn't matter. He'd never seen anyone so close to death. Except Jason, one of his stepbrothers.
Ordering the dogs who'd followed him in to stay out of the house, he hurried to the living room and called for emergency services. A helicopter would never be able to land in the wooded area where he lived, but he could meet the airlift at the Jensen farm just outside of town, like he had for that camper who'd had a heart attack two years ago.
It only took a moment to arrange it, then he tried to contact Ned Smith, Whiterock's chief of police, but the dispatcher didn't know where to find him.
"Want me to wake Amy?" she asked, offering him an alternate.
"No." Cain didn't even hesitate. Amy was also a cop, but she was Ned's twin sister—and Cain's exwife. He definitely didn't want Amy in the middle of this. She had no experience with violent crime. Neither did the other two officers on Whiterock's small force, which was why he didn't suggest the dispatcher continue down her list of available officers. Cain wasn't sure Ned would be any better, but he was chief of police. "Just get hold of Ned and tell him to meet me at the hospital in Knoxville. As soon as possible."
"The hospital?"
Cain didn't have time to explain. "That's right."
Afraid the woman he'd found in the forest might die before he could reach the helicopter, he hung up and went back to the spare bedroom to get her. "You're going to be fine," he told her. Carefully he smoothed the tangled hair out of her face, wiped away the mud and blood—and realized, to his shock, that he knew this woman. It'd been twelve years since he'd seen her. But he'd slept with her once. Right before she'd gone to Rocky Point with Jason.
When the hospital paged him to the nurses' station, Cain thought the county dispatcher had finally located Ned Smith. But it was Owen Wyatt, the older of the two stepbrothers he had left, trying to get hold of him. Cain had called Owen from the hospital as soon as he'd arrived, at least forty-five minutes after the...
Most helpful customer reviews
8 of 8 people found the following review helpful.
Another winner for Ms. Novak!
By Tooncesmom
Watch Me (Last Stand, Book 3)
Twelve years ago Sheridan Kohl and Jason Wyatt were shot while parked near Whiterock, Tennessee. Sheridon was injured, but Jason was killed. Sheridan has never been able to move beyond that tragic incident and has held herself partly responsible. Had she not wanted to make Jason's stepbrother, Cain, jealous, she and Jason would never have been together.
Now, possible new evidence has energed and Sheridan, needing closure, travels from Sacramento back to Whiterock. But someone doesn't want her there, doesn't want her discovering what has been covered up for twelve years.
Once again she is attacked, this time rescued by Cain Granger, the man she has never gotten over. Cain fears for here life and takes her back to his cabin to nurse her back to health.
Both Sheridan and Cain go out of their way to avoid confronting the past and their feelings. Sheridan won't let herself become emotionally involved because she knows Cain doesn't care about commitment, and Cain seems to care more for his dogs and his grandfather than anyone else.
A cast of family and other townspeople complete the list of possible suspects, and Ms. Novak's deft weaving of plot and subplots keeps the reader guessing right down to the final pages. Coupled with Cain's and Sheridan's struggle to find clues to the killer's identity is their growing desire for one another.
This third in the Last Stand series oozes sensuality and suspense, items Brenda Novak writes with consummate skill. Once begun, I could not put the book down until I finished the last page.
Bravo Ms. Novak.
5 of 6 people found the following review helpful.
Not the last in the "Last Stand" series
By Tracy Vest
When the gun that was used to injure Sheridan Kohl and kill her companion Jason twelve years earlier turns up, Sheridan travels back to the town she'd rather forget to try to solve the now cold case. The incident was a turning point in Sheridan's life, as she now runs a non-profit company dedicated to victims. But her appearance has the killer pretty upset - enough that he kidnaps and tries to kill her again, only to have town bad boy Cain Granger step in and rescue her. Sheridan has always carried a torch for Cain, in fact, she was with his stepbrother that night in an attempt to make Cain jealous. Guilt has plagued them both in their role in Jason's death, and it doesn't help that many think he was the gunman. The two share close quarters as they investigate the crime, but the killer is one step ahead and getting desperate enough to tie up loose ends.
Novak's latest installment in her "Last Stand" series is a riveting novel that easily stands on its own. Both Sheridan and Cain are pretty complex characters with so much emotional baggage, but Novak manages to keep them from becoming too stereotypical of your average romantic suspense. Cain is somewhat of a loner - on one hand gruff and unapproachable, relating more to his dogs. But when he interacts with his grandpa Marshall or is taking care of Sheridan, his true personality emerges. While the mystery aspect was not too much of a surprise, Novak's gift for dialogue and knack for crafting a story are ever prevalent. While this series was originally touted as a trilogy, there will soon be another "Last Stand" story on the horizon.
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
Highly Recommended
By Donna Simmonds
I liked all 3 of the books in The Last Stand. But this was my favorite. I dont know if its because we had some of the details or the way we jumped right into the story. But as good as the first 2 were, this one was better. I loved the characters, setting and the storyline kept me interested all the way though.
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