Don't Trust Me (Hamlet Book 1)

by Jessica Lynch

  If she belonged to him, he would never give another man the chance to observe her as closely as he was.

  He glanced back at the sheriff. She was dancing with Rick, one of the fellas from the barber shop down on Main. Ex-military and a Hamlet local, he was a good man. He could keep an eye on Caitlin.

  And maybe Mason should keep his eye on the outsider.

  Someone had to.

  When Tess realized that she had not only lost track of time but also of how many glasses the waitress had placed before her, she figured it was probably a good idea to make her way back to the hotel.

  At least she didn't have to worry about her husband. When Jack knocked out, he was out. Especially after he had his nightly vodka shot. Since he’d been snoring when she left, there was a good chance he hadn’t even noticed she was still gone.

  Good. She wasn’t in the mood for another fight tonight. And considering she stayed out way later than she intended, she had a feeling that another fight was exactly what she was going to get.

  She bit back her pout. Some romantic getaway. She got tipsy all alone in some strange bar while her husband slept by himself a few miles down the road.

  The waitress had dropped the bill off the last time she made her rounds so Tess didn’t have to wait. Squinting at the total, she pulled a handful of bills from her purse and left them under the receipt. Feeling a little sorry for herself and her cracking marriage, she added a healthy tip before slipping out of the booth.

  The wild redhead was still at the bar, surrounded by a small circle of men and women that she tried—and failed—not to notice didn’t include the handsome blond man from earlier. The terrible music had only seemed to grow louder, or maybe that was just Tess’s irrational sensitivity to it.

  Laughter filtered from their group, too, even more shrill to her ears. She was tempted to join them—anything, to prove that she could still have a good time—but she knew better. The way the redhead’s friend approached her like she was some unique specimen told Tess that this small town didn’t get too many visitors. Besides, in the mood she was in, she doubted she’d make a good first impression on anyone.

  Out of habit, she checked her cell. Still no service which meant there was no message from Jack. Tossing her useless phone back into her purse, she pulled out her car keys and made her way outside.

  The rain had let up some, leaving a musty smell in the air and a chill that had Tess wishing she’d brought her coat. She’d been so anxious to get away from Jack that she hadn’t stopped to grab anything except her purse.

  The road behind the bar was all cobblestones. She’d forgotten that. After her ankle turned on her first wrong step, she carefully made her way to her car. It frustrated her to see that the flat had gotten even worse. One whole side of the car seemed to tilt down. She had half a mind to abandon it at the bar. Since that meant walking all the way back to the hotel, she said a quick prayer to the car gods and climbed in.

  The car started on the first try. There was a small groan and a grinding screech as the poor flat tire feebly protested. Tess pushed past it. Maybe the vehicle took pity on her, or maybe she should’ve been sleeping long before she decided cars had thoughts and emotions, but though it didn’t seem happy, the damn thing moved.

  “Thank you, car gods,” she muttered.

  It didn’t take too long before she realized that one of the car gods cursed her.

  She’d made it maybe half a mile down the road when her rearview mirror became an angry flash of red and blue lights. The crazy impulse to take off lasted for a single heartbeat before sanity returned and she slowly coasted to the side.

  Cursing under her breath, she slumped in her seat, her head thumping against the headrest. In a town that boasted a population of a couple of hundred and probably had two backwater cops, wasn’t it just her luck that she would manage to get pulled over?

  Or that the face looming right outside her driver side mirror would belong to a man she had already met?

  A brisk knock against her window had her rolling it down. Without the rain-spattered glass separating them, Tess could see that she was right. Closely cropped blond hair, chocolate-colored eyes, and an inviting smile. The pretty boy charmer from the bar. Of course, it was.

  And, of course, he was a damn cop.

  “Well, hello again,” he drawled. He shook his head, wiping the rain that trickled down his forehead. He never seemed to lose his grin.

  She gulped. This was bad. Very, very bad. “Problem, officer?”

  “Might be. Remember me? I believe I saw you over at Thirsty’s earlier tonight.”

  Fighting the urge to hurl, she nodded. It probably wasn’t a good idea to open her mouth.

  “Okay. So, well, that makes it a bit easier then. I know you’ve been out drinking. And now I see you’re behind the wheel. That’s not good. It’s not safe.”

  It took her a second to find her voice. “I’m… I’m okay. I’m just going back to the hotel.”

  “That’s still a problem, miss. Quite a big one, actually. You see, the Hamlet Inn is a good five miles from here.” She only had a split second to see the flashlight in his hand before he clicked it on and her retinas burned like they'd been seared. Black dots danced before her eyes as he said briskly, “License, please.”

  Her heart started to mambo in her chest. Trying desperately not to slur her words, she projected pure innocence as she yanked her driver’s license out of her wallet and handed it over to the cop.

  “Tessa Sullivan,” he read. Handing it back, he opened the car door. His grin had slipped into a thin line of duty. “Step out of the vehicle please, miss.”

  She climbed out of the car, glad to see that the rain had finally died away. The chill was still in the air, though, and she shivered as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Over here.” The officer directed her to the painted line that split the paved road. “I’m gonna have to ask you to walk that line for me.”

  Oh, lord. He was giving her some sort of sobriety test.

  It was hard to think but she had to try. Rubbing her eyes, warding off some of the wooziness, she looked up at the officer through the fringe of her eyelashes. “Are you sure I should?”

  “Traffic is slow this time of night,” he assured her. “It’ll only take a minute. Arms out, miss. Fifteen steps down the line, fifteen back.”

  Tess took in a deep breath. Thirty steps. Piece of cake. She could so do this.

  Holding her arms out, wondering how the hell she got into this mess, Tess held her shaky head high and took the first step. One… Two… Three. She wobbled and just barely kept her balance. Four. Five— Damn it!

  The officer rushed over to her side the instant she started to stumble. With a rock solid arm around her waist, he hefted Tess back onto her feet. Once she was steady, he didn’t let go. Instead, he guided her toward his cruiser.

  She didn’t realize how much trouble she was actually in until he helped her into the backseat.

  5

  Nothing, Tess discovered, sobered her up faster than the harsh sound of cell bars clanking shut.

  She jumped at the ringing noise, then stumbled forward. Her knees knocked into the edge of the bench seat that took up the length of the cell. The lingering fog in her head disappeared. Turning, she watched the broad back of the blond cop as he started to head away from her.

  “Wai—” Her throat dry, the words seemed to catch. Swallowing roughly, she tried again. “Wait! You can’t leave me here!”

  When he turned around, the expression on his face was apologetic. “It’s for your own safety, miss. Even if you were in any shape to drive, your car wouldn’t make it far. I saw the flat myself, and the way the rim is starting to bend out of shape. No, it’s better if you stay here, sleep it off.”

  Tess started to argue. He cut it off with a small shake of his head. “If you make it easy on both of us, all you’ll get is a warning and a ride. In the morning, I’ll take you down to the garage so you can get you
r car looked at. How’s that sound?”

  “No, no. I won’t be any trouble, I promise. But, please—” She squinted at his nameplate. “—Mr. Walsh, I can’t stay. I—”

  “Deputy.”

  Tess blinked at his interruption and went right on without missing a single beat. “Right. Deputy. As I was saying—”

  “You can call me Mason, miss. We’re not so formal in Hamlet, and you saying Mr. Walsh makes me think my dad is here.”

  He was charming, she realized. And that could be dangerous. She shook her head, desperate to clear it. Much of the night was hazy, but she definitely remembered him stopping by her table at the bar.

  Tess raised her hand, careful to show off her wedding band again.

  “My husband,” she blurted out. “He’ll be angry if I don’t come back to the hotel tonight. We’re not from around here, and he’ll worry something has happened to me.”

  The deputy—Mason—pursed his lips, a few lines marring his brow. The keys to the cell were hanging loosely from his belt and while he fingered one absently, she could tell from the set of his jaw that she would be trying to make herself cozy on that bench shortly.

  And then he said, “Well, I don’t suppose it would do any harm to give him a shout,” and Tess was so relieved that even the prospect of a sore back and a stiff neck didn’t seem so bad.

  Reaching behind him, Mason produced something that looked like a walkie talkie. It was bulky and thick, mostly black with a yellow case and a flashing red light next to an antenna that reminded Tess of her pinky finger. He fiddled with one of the three knobs on the side before pressing a button.

  A shock of static cut through the air, followed by a soft voice. “Hamlet Inn. Who are you trying to reach?”

  “Caroline? It’s Mason, down at the sheriff’s office. How’s everything going?”

  “Going fine, fine. Little late for a buzz, though, isn’t it? I was just going to wake up Roy, have him take the desk for a couple hours so I can get some shut eye.”

  When the deputy glanced behind him to look at the clock, Tess followed his gaze. It was already half past one in the morning. Her shoulders tensed and her stomach dropped. How had it gotten so late?

  “Sorry about the buzz. But, hey, you got some guests fresh in tonight. Yeah?”

  “We did. Two outsiders. First ones we’ve had this fall so you know that storm was real wicked earlier. That’s why I’m making my husband take over for me. I would’ve locked up otherwise. Hold on, I got their check-in right here.”

  The walkie died for a few seconds, then Caroline was back.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan. Good looking man, and the wife seemed like a shy little thing. We have them up on the second floor. Something wrong?”

  Mason chuckled. “Let’s just say that the shy little wife is going to be my guest in the holding cells this evening. Nothing serious, but she’d feel better if someone let her husband know that she had a little too much to drink and is crashing somewhere safe. Do you think you can do that for me, Caro?”

  If she wasn’t so nervous, Tess might have been concerned with the way the loose-lipped deputy was spreading gossip about her when she was standing right there. At that second, it didn’t matter. Not if he got the hotel clerk to talk to Jack.

  “You’re in luck. The wind didn’t knock out the boards tonight. I’ll connect to his room and see if I can get him on the line for you. Just give me a minute, Mase.”

  “Thanks.” Clipping his communicator back onto his belt, the deputy offered Tess an explanation. “The phones don’t always work here. You’ve never seen dead air until you try to make a village between a mountain and a valley,” he added with a crooked grin. “Everyone in town who needs one has a channel, has a radio. No cell service in Hamlet. The switchboards are the best we have and who knows if they’ll ever work. If she can’t get through to him, I can always ask Caro to go up and knock. Or Roy could, I guess.”

  He was being too nice. Normally, she would be suspicious, but not when she was desperate enough to take his help without wondering why he was so eager to offer it. Shuffling as close to the cell door as she could get, Tess wrapped trembling fingers around the cold sting of the metal. Biting down on her bottom lip, she waited.

  It seemed like an eternity before the static echoed through the wide room again.

  “Hello? Can you hear me?”

  At the sleep-roughened yet undeniably curious tone, Tess relaxed. She knew that voice. Everything was going to be okay.

  “He must’ve figured out the radio,” Mason murmured to Tess. He grabbed his own and pressed the button. “Yes, I can. Evening, sir. My name is Deputy Mason Walsh, with the Hamlet Sheriff Department.”

  “They told me this had something to do with my wife. Where’s Tessa—where’s my Tessie? Is she okay? Is she safe?”

  “Mrs. Sullivan is fine, sir,” Mason assured him. “Little car trouble, though. Did you know your tire was flat?”

  “What— oh, yes. The flat. That’s why we’ve stopped over. I plan on having it looked at first thing in the morning. I’m sorry— what did you say your name was again?”

  “Walsh, sir.”

  “Walsh. Yes. Sorry, I was sleeping. Can you please tell me what that has to do with my wife?”

  Mason hesitated before answering. Tess could’ve sworn she forgot how to breathe.

  “I was on patrol tonight when I encountered your wife a few miles from the hotel,” he said. “Her car was swerving—probably because of the flat—and I brought her down to the station just in case. With the poor weather, the flat, not to mention the late hour, it seemed a smarter idea all around for her to pass the night here. She insisted on a courtesy call, though. Didn’t mean to wake you, sir. My apologies.”

  The other end was quiet for a moment. Mason waited to see if her husband would believe him. Tess thought she might pass out from lack of oxygen.

  Then, “Where is she? I’ll come get her.”

  Tess discovered she had enough air in her lungs to let out a fretful shout.

  “No!”

  Mason turned to look at Tess. His eyebrows raised, he took his finger off of the radio’s button. “Miss? Is something wrong?” While he kept his voice friendly and calm, there was steel there, too. Like he’d stand in front of her if she asked him to.

  She shook her head quickly. “I don’t want him to see me locked in here. He’ll be so angry if he finds out I… I...” Gulping back her panic, she looked imploringly at the deputy. “I’ll stay. I’ll be quiet. Just don’t let Jack come down here. Please.”

  For a moment, Tess was certain that Mason would refuse. But then he nodded. “Mr. Sullivan?”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s no need for you to come to the station. Your wife will be nice and safe until morning. If it makes you feel better, I’ll personally return her to you as soon as I’m off duty.”

  A pause. Tess clasped her hands together, covering her mouth with her fingers.

  “Not that I don’t believe you or nothing, Walsh, but my wife and I are strangers here. What would make me feel better was if I spoke to her myself, made sure she was okay. Is she available?”

  Mason’s dark eyes scanned her pale face. “Are you?”

  “I’ll talk to him.” Slipping her hand between the bars, she took the radio Mason offered her. She pressed down on the button the same way she saw him do it. “Honey?”

  Crackle. “Tessie?”

  “Yeah. It’s me. Hi. Sorry about all this… but, trust me, Jack, the deputy seems like a very nice man. We’ll have to invite him to breakfast tomorrow.”

  Another pause. “If you say so, Tessie.” His flat tone made it clear that he wasn’t so sure. “But we’ll talk about all this later. I’m not quite sure I get what’s going on—” His words were slurred, the tail end of a yawn coming through the radio before he added, “—and I’m too tired to figure it out. It’s too late to argue about it. Okay?”

  She nodded her head, then seemed to realize t
hat he couldn’t hear her. She pressed the button again, the ridges biting into the soft flesh of her thumb. “Okay. Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Night.”

  Mason moved forward to take the radio back. A curious expression flashed across his face, there and gone again in the time it took her to blink and focus. His genial grin back in place, he twisted a few knobs on his radio and clipped it back on his belt.

  “Feel better?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, ‘cause your husband’s right. It’s late and I’ve got to get back on patrol. Sly will be in shortly to check on you. Sleep it off. I’ll be back in the morning.”

  “Thank you.” The words didn’t seem adequate, and it was weird for her to be grateful when the man had kind of, sort of, maybe arrested her. Tess was tired, she’d been drinking, and she was so far out of her element, she felt like she was floating. But he had helped her when he didn't have to, and she was grateful. “I mean it.”

  “Rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.” He winked, a gesture so very at odds with what had happened that evening that Tess just stared at him. “I’m very much looking forward to breakfast.”

  Mason never made it back to the station house.

  About ten minutes after he left, a tall black man wearing the same uniform came in to sit with her. He introduced himself as Sylvester Collins, and assured her that what Mason did was local procedure.

  With as little crime as Hamlet saw, he told her, if it wasn’t for the occasional drunk and disorderly, the jail cell would never have any occupants. Tess almost wanted to argue the disorderly part then decided that doing so would just prove the deputy’s point so she kept her mouth shut.

  After offering her a wool blanket and telling her the night would pass much faster if she got some sleep, Collins sat at one of the two desks in the wide room. Tess watched him pore over a pile of paperwork—no crime certainly didn’t mean that their paperwork was any less—before taking his advice and finally catching a few hours.