If he didn’t want to upset Maria, he failed miserably.
“What? No!” She looked horrified at the accusation. “I honor my guests so long as they respect me and my rules. Why would you even ask me that?”
Because his inexplicable yet undeniable attraction to that pretty little outsider made him do stupid, stupid things. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he ducked his head in a bid to avoid her insulted glare. “Ah, jeez, Maria. I’m a deputy. I had to ask, even if I knew you had nothing to do with it.”
“With what? Dimmi! What’s going on? I go out for groceries and, when I come back, Mason Walsh is aiming a gun in my Ophelia. I don’t understand.”
Mason hesitated. Never one to gossip, he wasn’t sure that it was his place to tell Maria about what happened to Tess. An instant later, he corrected himself. He had to tell her. As deputy, it was his responsibility to make sure that everyone in Hamlet was safe. One outsider was already dead, and another threatened. Who's to say that the culprit would stop at outsiders?
Keeping his voice low, he quickly explained to Maria the events of the evening, starting with the locked door and ending with the fact that the threatening note was now missing.
He made the right choice in telling her. Instead of being angry and hurt, Maria was concerned. Not, like he sort of expected, for herself. She was worried about her guest.
As devoted to her bed and breakfast as she was, Mason should’ve realized that.
Maria shook her head royally, her long dark hair cascading down her back. “That’s awful! She’s such a sweetheart. She doesn’t deserve someone upsetting her like that, especially not in my Ophelia. Is there anything I can do for her?”
Mason had been thinking the same thing ever since he had to help her find her way out of the woods. He almost offered to take Tess back home with him but even he realized that taking advantage of her after her scare would be kind of sleazy. Having her stay with Maria was the best thing for her, especially since the sheriff was still harping on her being the only suspect in Sullivan’s murder. He dreaded what Caitlin would say when she found out about this twist in the case.
No, he needed to keep his distance as best he could. Didn’t mean that he couldn’t still take care of Tess.
“She needs a good night’s sleep. I don’t know if she’ll manage it on her own. You wouldn't happen to have anything that might help her relax, would you? Like a sleeping pill?”
Maria pursed her lips, thinking. She shook her head. “All I have is aspirin. But I know where I can get something.”
Mason immediately knew he made a mistake. “Ah, no. I don’t want to bother—”
“Hush, Mase,” Maria said, swatting him in the arm. “Luc is up all hours of the night. Come. I’ll get my radio. He’s used to weird buzzes, especially from me. He won’t mind.”
Yes, but Mason might.
He took two steps after her, prepared to tell her that he changed his mind, before he realized that he was just being selfish. As much as he wanted to keep Tessa to himself, he couldn’t deny her something that might help her. It wasn’t her fault that the only one who could offer her a peaceful sleep was Lucas. And it made complete sense that Maria’s response to his request was to call on her brother. He was the only doctor in town and, since Hamlet didn’t have a real pharmacy, he was in control of any and all medications. Tess needed a sleeping pill? Lucas would have one.
Damn it.
Maria returned a few moments later, her radio in one hand, a wooden Louisville Slugger clutched tightly in the other. She beamed over at Mason. “I got Luc on the radio. He says he’s gonna stop at his office first for the medicine and then he’ll be right over.”
“That’s great.” It wasn’t great. If Tessa needed someone to save her, he wanted it to be him, not the doctor. Since he couldn’t tell Maria that, he focused on something else instead. He pointed at the bat. “Going out for some batting practice?”
She hefted the bat up, a wicked and fierce glimmer in her pale eyes. “If someone else thinks they can sneak around Ophelia, then si. Most definitely.”
15
Mason rubbed his jaw, stifling a yawn. Stubble pricked the tips of his fingers. It had been a long night. Once the sheriff gave him the all clear to go off duty, he'd have to make sure he shaved before he went to see Tessa again.
The sun was up by the time his rounds brought him back to the station house. He was feeling it. In the years that he'd been a deputy, Mason worked his fair share of overnight patrols but never so many shifts back to back. His eyes were dry, itchy, like he got sand in them. The yawns kept coming. He fought to hold them back. Sheriff De Angelis ordered him to take short breaks for rest. He was the idiot who kept cutting them even shorter.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee slapped him awake as he dragged himself into the station. It was empty, though that didn't mean he was the only one there. Since station coffee couldn't brew itself, he knew somebody had to be nearby. After helping himself to a styrofoam cup of the stuff, only pausing to splash some milk in to cool it down, he went off in search of whoever was on duty with him so early.
Bang.
Crash.
The slow, steady whine of a dying beep.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Mason’s lips curved around the rim of his cup. Caitlin. Of course. He should have known. The woman was like a robot. She'd been going nonstop since they found Jack Sullivan’s body, living on coffee and a steely determination to solve the outsider’s murder in record time.
He thought about it for a second, realized that her cussing while on duty meant she was real riled up, and went to prepare a second cup of coffee. Mood she was in, he might need a peace offering. Then, a cup in each hand, he crossed the station.
The main station house was a wide open floor, with two desks, a handful of visitor’s chairs, a fridge and a set-up to the side for the department’s microwave and coffee pot. Hamlet’s single holding cell was toward the back. Off to the right, there were two doors. One was the bathroom. The other, a closed-in office that the sheriff rarely used.
It was that room where Caitlin had brought Tessa to do her interviews on Sunday. And it was that room where Caitlin’s angry cry had just come from.
He knocked with his elbow, then carefully let himself in.
“Morning, Sheriff. I brought you some coffee.”
She already had an empty styrofoam cup on her desk. He placed his offering next to it in time to dodge Caitlin’s arm as she reared back and swung her open palm right at the side of her ancient desktop monitor.
Thwack!
Shaking out her stinging palm, she growled at the monitor. At least the beeping stopped.
“Feel better?”
“Damn it, Mase, the stupid internet went out again. Blasted cables were up all morning but the second the e-mail I was waiting for comes in, internet goes out. It's messing with me on purpose. I know it is.”
He nodded in sympathy. While all of Hamlet had a love-hate relationship with technology, Caitlin took it to the extremes. Mason long ago gave up telling her that beating the machine wouldn’t fix it.
“You really should look into getting one of those fancy cellphones. Pay for the right plan, you're supposed to be able to get internet on it whenever you want.”
“Then I'd have to drive out of Hamlet anytime I wanted to use the thing. And I'll be damned if they try putting up another cell tower around here. That first one never took and, hell, we just don't need it enough.” She knew some of the younger kids, like Addy’s Sally, made a big fuss out of having no cell service. It didn't bother Caitlin. She sniffed. “Give me my radio any day.”
Hamlet communicators were reliable. The channels were always open. It was bad enough she had to go to the county’s big municipal center on the rare occasions she needed help with one of her investigations. If she didn't have to take that narrow one-way strait, she wouldn't.
Caitlin hated leaving Hamlet. When they were still married, Lucas was alw
ays going, taking a couple of hours to visit the bigger shops, or even week-long trips when he went away for his job. To keep up to date in his practice, Lucas was forever attending classes, seminars, even hosting lectures of his own. It used to drive her insane with jealousy.
Now she paid her neighbor to get her anything Jefferson didn't have in his store, and she watched from a distance as Lucas sped his Mustang out of town. It still drove her nuts, yeah. As long as he didn't bring anyone back with him, she managed.
She had to.
“Speaking of heading out of Hamlet,” Caitlin said, accepting the coffee with a nod, “I've got to take a trip today.” She made a face. She couldn't help it. “It's for the Sullivan case or else I'd be out with the rest of you guys. I shouldn't be gone long. Now, go on. Report. How was your patrol last night?”
“Oh. Um. Good, I guess.”
“Really? And Ophelia? How was that?”
Mason froze. “What do you mean?”
Caitlin let out a laugh. He didn't find any humor in it and, he realized after a beat, neither did she. “Come on, Mase. We both know you took a spin by Maria's place at least once last night.”
He couldn't really deny it. And it wasn't like he did anything wrong. Hamlet was small. If his patrol took him past Ophelia, he was only doing his duty.
It struck him that no one had radioed Caitlin and told her about the threat left for Tessa. If Caitlin knew, she would've said something. No doubt. In her way, the sheriff was being playful. If she knew another crime had gone down, she'd be furious.
Last night was rough. He stood guard over Tess, watching as Lucas checked her out, took her measure, assured her that she was safe if she stayed inside of her room, regardless of what any faceless boogeyman left in a note. Mason longed to jump in, but the doctor never gave him the chance. So he tried instead to charm Maria into letting him stay the night, renting one of the rooms so he'd be close by if either of the women needed him. That hadn't worked, either. She obviously had more faith in a baseball bat than in Mason’s gun.
Probably didn't help that he'd pointed it at her, he admitted to himself.
In the end, he waited until Tessa took the medicine Lucas brought before purposely walking the doctor out. If he couldn't stay, he'd make damn sure Lucas didn't.
Not that it mattered. It was already too late. Seeing the way Lucas eyed her when he didn't think anyone was looking, Mason knew the other man was only going to stand in the way of him and Tessa.
Just like he was sure that Lucas wouldn't tell his ex-wife anything about what happened at Ophelia. He would do his best to protect the outsider.
Then so would Mason.
“You're right, boss. It was quiet. No trouble at all.”
“That's what I want to hear. We need more trouble like we need another outsider in town.”
He could never understand why she hated outsiders so much. They brought excitement, possibility. Everything was always so stagnant in Hamlet. A fresh face could inject a little life in their sleepy village.
Except for Jack Sullivan, he amended. That man had only brought death.
Mason shook his head, clearing that thought as quickly as it came. “Yeah, well, since it’s quiet, I was wondering if I could go off duty now. Take a couple personal hours since I just came off a double.”
Caitlin didn't answer him right away. Clicking angrily on the computer's mouse, she peered at her screen, scowling at whatever she saw. She wore her long red hair tied back, the tail resting over the shoulder of her crisp beige uniform shirt. She flipped it out of her face before taking her seat, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the desk.
Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.
She had a pretty good guess what he wanted the personal for.
“We have a murderer out there in our village. Anyone could be the next victim. You haven't forgotten that, have you, Deputy?”
Tap, tap, tap.
“No, ma’am.”
“Didn't think so.” She leaned back in her chair, sipping the coffee Mason brought her. “We’re all on duty until further notice. No approved personal. Doesn't mean you can't get some sleep. When I get back from town, I'll buzz you and you can take a couple more hours down. I mean it this time. Take them. You look like hell, Mase. Rest. Take the time when you can.”
He ran his hand over his stubble. It felt thicker. “I will.”
“Good. I’m gonna need you patrolling again tonight, trading off with Sly. These hours are a killer, yeah, but that's because we're trying to beat a killer. We can't let her win.”
Her. It might have been a slip. He doubted that very much. Caitlin still believed Tessa was involved in her husband’s death. Wonderful. More than ever, Mason thought he made the right decision in keeping the threatening note from the sheriff. She would only find some way to pin it on Tess.
Tess didn't deserve that. Caitlin wasn't there. She hadn't seen how badly shook Tess was. He was a deputy, more than eight years under his belt on the job. If that woman was faking, he'd turn in his gun and his badge.
He itched to get back to her, to make sure she was okay. And he hated the idea that the doc might manage to do so before he could.
No approved personal. He got that. But what about—
Mason cleared his threat. “Sheriff, I was just wondering. Tomorrow night is my scheduled off time—”
“There is no scheduled off time either when we have an open investigation. You know that. No pretty face or sob story should turn your head so much that you forget who you are and what you've sworn to do. Hamlet is your home, Deputy. And it's your priority.”
Mason took her slap at him with a wince and a gulp before he straightened, his hands folded behind his back.
“You're right, Sheriff. I'm sorry. Forget I brought it up.”
Caitlin studied her deputy, ramrod straight as he stood at attention. Lord help her, she could almost swear she saw the little hearts fluttering over his head. Mason had it bad. As much as she hated to admit it, there was a slight chance Sullivan's wife was innocent. If she ended up proving it, what did it hurt to let Mason work this little crush out of his system?
And, she realized, if the outsider hooked up with Mason, that left Lucas wide open for her.
“Okay. Fine.” She threw her hands up in the air, making a show of giving in. “Take tomorrow night for yourself. Just make sure to keep your radio on in case I need you.”
“I always do,” he promised. Then, deciding to make his escape before she changed her mind, he added, “Good luck with the internet.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Mason started to back out of the office, remembered Caitlin’s muttered her, and hesitated. He'd hate himself if he didn't at least try again to intervene. “Hey, Sheriff? Quick question. You don't still think that Tess killed her husband, do you?”
Tess again, Caitlin thought. Someone ought to warn the kid not to wear his heart on his sleeve. It was a dangerous place to keep it. She knew that better than anyone. Lucas broke hers so many times over the years, all she had left was shards.
She drank her coffee, taking a second to compose herself so that she didn't snap out her answer—or a warning.
“Mase, I have to follow that lead all the way to the end.”
“But… why?”
“Because once I'm done looking at Tessa Sullivan, I’ll have to start looking for one of us.”
On the way to his office that morning, Lucas purposely made a right instead of a left when he hit the main fork in the road. He was supposed to go to work. He didn't. His Mustang brought him back to Ophelia instead.
Talk about deja vu. As he let himself into his sister’s house, he flashed back to the night before. It had spooked him to get a buzz from Maria so late, and he almost lost it when she admitted that someone had snuck into the B&B last night to terrorize her guest. The only thing that kept him from insisting she shut Ophelia down again was that Maria hadn’t been in any danger—and, if she had been, she still slept with her trusty bat un
derneath her bed.
It worried him that Tessa Sullivan seemed to be a target, though. And that, when she was in danger, Mason Walsh had been there to take care of her. If it wasn’t for Maria catching the look on his face and telling Walsh no, the deputy would’ve booked a room at Ophelia to keep his eye on the outsider. He couldn't have that.
Telling himself that, as the doctor, it was up to him to follow up with his new patient, Lucas decided to make a house call to the bed and breakfast rather than returning to his office to catch up on his patients and reports. A house call still counted as work. He wouldn't let anyone tell him otherwise.
He checked in on his sister and told her his plan, trying not let it embarrass him too much when Maria squealed in excitement and rushed him out of her room so that he could go see Tessa. Her girlish advice ringing in his ears—or maybe that was her high-pitched shrieks—Lucas headed for the Lavender Room. He rapped his knuckles gently against the door, then pressed in close.
The rustle of sheets, the soft shuffle of dainty steps across the carpet, and then, “Yes? Hello?”
“It’s me. Lucas.”
It was already after ten; the outer locks had been disengaged three hours ago. He heard the click as Tessa unlocked the door on her side.
A moment later, she swung the door inward. Wearing a plush pink robe and a pair of muddy slippers, Tessa kept her hand on the door handle. She made no move to invite him in.
Her hair was sleep-tousled in a most appealing way. It made Lucas wonder what it would be like to see those light brown curls spilled across his own pillow.
Tessa looked up at him in honest confusion. Her expression seemed softer this morning, more open and far less wary. She lost some of the pinched look of fear she’d worn when Lucas brought over the medication last night.
Good.
“Morning, Tessa.”
With her free hand, she anxiously tightened the belt on her robe. “Um—hi.”
Don't Trust Me Page 14
