Deputy Collins offered her a glass of water, waited for her to refuse, then left the two women alone. At a nod from the sheriff, Collins closed the door behind him.
De Angelis picked up her pen, poised it against the blank sheet of paper and, with a no-nonsense tone said, “Starting from when you left Ophelia, tell me what happened yesterday afternoon.”
Tess did. Going into detail, she explained how Maria needed to take a trip out of Hamlet and, because she didn’t want to stay in the bed and breakfast by herself after her fright from the night before, she asked Maria to show her where Dr. De Angelis’s office was.
Since she couldn’t admit that she just wanted to see the doctor—especially not to his very jealous ex-wife—she made it seem like she was only interested in getting another dose of sleeping pills. Fully aware that the sheriff now thought of her as a pill-popper, she quickly continued. Better a lush and a drug addict than the outsider with her eye on the sheriff’s former husband.
Sheriff De Angelis didn’t interrupt once. Tilting her notepad toward her so that Tess couldn’t see what she was writing, she jotted down whatever interested her. At one point she made a notation, underlined and then circled it. Twice. Tess wished she could remember what it was she had said but she was already three thoughts ahead.
She gamely finished. “—as soon as we got him bandaged up, the doctor drove us back to the B&B. I tried to get him to let me drive—”
The sheriff snorted.
“—yeah, I tried, but now I know that no one is allowed to drive his car except him. Anyway, after he dropped me off, he said he was going to see the sheriff… see you… and tell you all about the freak shooting. At least, I have to believe it was some kind of accident. He didn’t say it or anything, but I got the feeling that Dr. De Angelis thought they were shooting at me. I mean, that’s impossible. Why would anyone shoot at me?”
Sheriff De Angelis set her pen aside. Then, opening her desk drawer, she slipped her notepad inside before pulling out a manila folder. She tossed it on her desk where it landed with a soft thump.
“I’m not so sure they did.”
Tess blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“You just told me how, when I met you outside of the doc’s office, you were in the woods. Looking for a stray cat, right?”
“Yes. I thought I heard meowing so I went to check it out. I told you that yesterday, too. And then you told me that Hamlet doesn’t have strays.”
“We don’t, Mrs. Sullivan. And that makes me wonder what you really were doing in the woods.” The sheriff paused, either for effect or because she thought Tess might actually answer her. Her lips pressed tight together, Tess didn’t say a word. “We found shells a few feet into the trees, not too far from where I saw you. So I'm going to ask again, in case you want to change your mind. What were you doing in the woods?”
Her answer was slow, deliberate. “I heard a cat.”
“Maybe you did. But I think it's more likely you were in there checking out the sightlines, maybe loading a gun—or helping someone else do it.”
It took Tess a second to understand what De Angelis was actually saying to her. She couldn’t believe it. The sheriff was actually accusing her of somehow orchestrating the shooting with… with some accomplice in the woods. That was absolutely crazy.
“Why would I do that?” she demanded. “Why would I want Lucas to get shot?”
Lucas, Caitlin noted. Not Dr. De Angelis any longer. That was interesting. “I don’t know. Why did you strangle your husband?”
“I didn’t!”
“Maybe you didn’t. But, let me tell you, I’m one step closer to finding out who did. Dollars to donuts, same man took a shot at our doc. And I think you know who it was.” The sheriff tapped her nail on the top of the manila folder. She was a biter, Tess noticed, the nail chewed down to the quick. Thud. Thud. Thud. “Who do you know around here?”
She didn’t like the direction Sheriff De Angelis’s questions were veering off into. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Big city girl, bet you never figured that the sticks has some fine detectives of its own. I don’t like to leave Hamlet, Mrs. Sullivan. Doesn’t mean that I don’t. In fact, I have friends high up in the county. Look what they got for me.”
De Angelis opened the file on her desk. Inside was a stack of paper close to a half inch thick. A row of numbers ran down the page. There were about four lines highlighted.
She slammed her palm flat on the top of the paper, covering the numbers. “These are your phone records.”
Deep inside her coat pockets, Tess clenched her hands into fists. She kept her expression neutral. “You can’t do that.”
“Can. Did.”
The sheriff offered her a meaningless grin. At least, she bared her teeth. Tess decided it counted. De Angelis looked like she was suddenly enjoying herself.
That made one of them.
“Warrant I got let me go back a year,” De Angelis said. “And you know what I noticed?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“You either loved your husband a great deal, or you were very lonely.” Lifting her hand, she pointed down the row of numbers, skipping over the ones in yellow. “Same two numbers over and over. One was Jack Sullivan’s cell phone, the other his work number. That’s it. Until a couple of weeks ago.”
Thud. Thud. De Angelis tapped on the first highlighted number. She rattled it off.
“That’s a local number,” she said. “No trace on it that I can find, so it must be a burner. In fact, I bet it is. And you know what else? Every Monday, like clockwork, there’s a new number to replace the last one. Same area code, though. So one more time, Mrs. Sullivan: who do you know here?”
Sheriff De Angelis kept repeating herself, just like she did during the other interview. As if she could badger a confession out of Tess. But Tess was prepared this go round.
She fought to relax, reminding herself that she didn’t do anything wrong. And she wasn’t about to let De Angelis bully her into admitting anything that might get her in trouble. With a shrug, she said, “Nobody. Our car got a flat. It was pure chance we ended up in Hamlet.”
The sheriff obviously didn’t buy it. “Who are you talking to?” Thud. Thud. Thud. “Whose number is this?”
“I don’t know. I mean, sometimes my phone gets weird numbers calling it. I don’t know who they are. I might answer them. That’s all. Look, you said it yourself. All the other numbers are the same. Jack’s cell, his work phone. I really don’t know anyone else. He wouldn’t let me.”
De Angelis ran her finger across a different number. She had drawn a large star next to it. “This conversation is from two weeks ago. It lasted more than thirty-four minutes. Who did you talk to?”
Tess thought about it. “Okay. I think I remember that. It was a telemarketer trying to sell me insurance or something. I don’t know. Jack worked long hours. I get lonely sometimes. And, yeah, it might be pathetic, it might be sad, but sometimes I pretend to buy into their speeches just to have someone to talk to.”
“Except, as I said, I already ran these numbers. Not one is registered to any business, insurance or otherwise.”
“I don’t know why!” The denial burst out of Tess. Yanking her hands out of her pockets, she gripped the edge of the sheriff’s desk. She didn’t want De Angelis to see that she was shaking. “All I wanted to do was have a second honeymoon with my husband. Now he’s dead… and everyone thinks I’m responsible.”
She couldn’t take it anymore. Burying her face in her trembling hands, Tess started to weep.
A soft rap at her door. Ready to snarl that she was busy, Caitlin tore her pointed gaze away from the crying woman in time to see that Wilhelmina had already entered the small office. Her hand was still folded loosely in a fist. Willie must have knocked on the inside of the door—and, most likely, overheard everything that had just passed between her and the Sullivan woman.
One look at the disapproval on her
deputy’s face confirmed it. Willie shook her head slowly, pursing her bright red lips as she folded her hands in front of her ample waist.
Caitlin gentled her voice. It wouldn’t fool the older woman, no. She could at least try not to come off like she was attacking the outsider now that she knew her deputy was watching. “Yes?”
“Report just came in, Sheriff. Ricky’s prelim was right on the money.”
So the bullet was a .40 caliber, shot through the barrel of a Glock 22. The Glock was standard issue for most law enforcement officers in their state, including the four members of her department. Of course. Because why would anything about this case be easy?
“You sure, Wil?”
“Got the report right here if you want to read it, boss.”
Caitlin let out a rough exhale, causing loose strands of her red hair to flutter around a face pinched with annoyance. “Yeah,” she said after a second, before pushing away from her desk. “I do.”
As she rose from her seat, Sullivan’s soft cries seemed to echo in the close quarters. The sound was like nails scraping down a chalkboard for Caitlin. Looking past her, she caught Wilhelmina’s eye, nodded at Sullivan’s bowed head, and pleaded silently with her.
Willie rolled her heavily made-up eyes, a theatrical gesture that was all the more impressive since she didn’t smudge either her eyeshadow or mascara behind her glasses. Caitlin jerked her head at the weeper, throwing in a pout for good measure. Willie sighed, then nodded.
“Mrs. Sullivan, that’s it for today’s interview,” Caitlin said, raising her voice so that she could drown out the weeping. As far as she was concerned, the sooner she didn’t have to listen to the incessant crying, the better. “You can go—just don’t go far. There’s a good chance we’ll have to revisit this matter again and soon. So long as you stay on at Maria’s place, I’ll know how to get in touch with you. If you need anything before you leave the station house, make sure to ask Willie. That’ll be all for now.”
Then, before she felt compelled to offer the outsider a tissue, she quickly made her escape.
Shaking her head at how quickly the sheriff ran out of the room, Wilhelmina approached Tessa. Her knees creaked as she bent low enough to place her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “You feeling okay, sugar?”
Her whole body tensed and tightened under the soft touch. Tess sniffled, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand before she rubbed underneath her nose. Weak and shaky from her latest crying jag—plus the revelation that she was as much a suspect as ever in the sheriff’s eyes—made the deputy’s soft question almost laughable.
Did she feel okay? Not even a little.
She was sitting in a police station, once again weighed down with the belief that she was responsible for a crime she couldn’t have possibly committed on her own. Where would she have gotten a gun from? And why would she want to shoot Lucas? It nearly broke her all over again to know he'd been hit. And how was she supposed to have conjured up some accomplice when she'd never even been to Hamlet before?
Things stopped being okay the second the tire went flat. That was her fault, too. She knew deep down that, regardless of her relief and her freedom, she would never stop blaming herself for causing that.
Brushing her hair out of her face, Tessa let out a soft, shaky breath. It didn’t matter if she felt okay. She had to let everyone else think that she was.
If she was an outsider, these people were simply strangers. Enough of them had seen her fall to pieces these last few days, and now she had to go and start crying in front of the sheriff.
She nodded, her throat raw. “I’m just ducky.”
Wilhelmina gave her a quick squeeze. “C’mon, sug. No reason for you to keep hanging around here. Let’s get you back to Ophelia.”
The groan was already slipping out before she had the chance to swallow it. How was she supposed to go back? Deputy Collins had picked her up and driven her over to the station house at Sheriff De Angelis’s request. It wasn’t like she could use someone’s radio and ask him to drive her back. If he wasn’t on patrol, he was off duty and nowhere in his job title did it say chauffeur.
Besides, she was sick and tired of having to rely on someone else for a ride. She hadn’t had a sip to drink since that night at Thirsty’s, nor did she have any desire to return to the bar. There was no good reason why she couldn't drive.
Last night, before she took one of the pills that knocked her out, Tess thought about the strange situation with her missing car. No matter who she tried to ask, no one knew anything about it—or, in the case of Mason, he constantly blew right past it, as if he didn’t want to answer. She was beginning to suspect that they were purposely keeping her car from her because she was a flight risk.
It wasn’t right, though. And it wasn’t fair. She didn’t think that they should be able to keep her car impounded without at least telling her why.
It struck her then that she’d never tried to ask Willie. Though she was as much a deputy as Mason and Collins, she told Tess in conversation that she was the one responsible for most of the paperwork. If anyone knew what happened to Tess’s car, it would have to be her.
Trotting along after the older woman like a puppy, she said softly, “Um, Wilhelmina—”
“Just Willie, sugar. I know that name of mine is a mouthful, so just Willie is fine.”
“Willie,” Tess conceded. Wilhelmina might have told her the same thing right after she found Jack and Mason shepherded her back to the station house. It was another fuzzy memory lost to the haze. “It’s something I’ve been meaning to ask. You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to my car, would you?”
“Car?” Pencil-thin eyebrows winged up over the wide swath of blue eyeshadow. “What do you mean?”
“My car. Well, my… my husband’s, I guess. We drove into Hamlet in it. I could drive myself back to Ophelia if someone would tell me where to find it.”
Either she was an amazing actress or Willie really didn’t know the answer to her question. She shook her head, her glasses slipping down her nose. “I don’t have half a clue, sugar, sorry. Mason said he was gonna take care of it himself but, shoot, I’ve got no idea what that boy did with your vehicle.” Her hand slid to her belt, long red fingernails tapping the plastic side of her radio. “You want me to give him a buzz? I can find out for you.”
Tess could still see the fury in his gaze, hear the demand in his voice. She quickly shook her head. “No. No, that’s okay. He might be busy.”
And if she didn’t bother him, he might forget all about his plans to come see her tonight.
Willie studied her. Tess couldn’t help but quail under the weight of her curious stare. What was she thinking? Did she hear something in Tess’s quick refusal? Or did she know exactly why Tess was so hesitant to ask anything of the other deputy?
She didn’t know. She couldn’t ask. But when Willie gave her upper arm another reassuring squeeze, she let out the breath she didn’t even know she was holding.
“Let me get my purse.”
“Your purse?”
“It’s got my keys. You heard the sheriff, she said for you to ask me if you need anything. Well, you need a ride. I’ll take you back myself.”
Tess blinked in surprise. “I— you don’t have to do that.”
“Hamlet is small, sugar, but it’s still a hike out to Maria’s fancy little place. Plus the temperature’s dropping. We might be in for another wicked storm like the other night. You don’t want to be caught out in that.”
No, she thought, remembering what happened the last time it rained. She did not.
21
Tess continued to hope that Mason wouldn't show. Fingers crossed, toes crossed, the whole deal. Her dreaded meeting with Sheriff De Angelis left her drained, both emotionally and physically. Her eyes ached. Her whole body was tense. All she wanted to do was take some of the doctor’s sleeping pills and knock out for another week.
Maybe, by then, all of this would finally be over
.
Yeah, right. She highly doubted that. It wouldn’t be over until she managed to escape Hamlet. And everything that she knew about Mason—which, admittedly, wasn't much—told her that he would be there at seven o’clock on the dot.
She wouldn’t be able to escape the earnest deputy either.
Nibbling on her bottom lip, she prayed. Now, Tess didn't quite wish a police emergency on anyone. Didn’t mean that she would turn her nose up at a fender bender or a quick smash and grab. A bar fight at Thirsty’s, even. Just something small and harmless to put Deputy Walsh back on patrol.
The evening sped by. At six o’clock, she gave up hope. Mason would be there within the hour and, as much as she wanted to pull her blanket up over her head and hide, she decided she might as well get this over with.
Because this trip was designed to be a second honeymoon for her and Jack, Tess had conveniently packed a few outfits that could be used for a date night. After she showered and dried her hair, she searched through the remaining clothes in her dresser drawer.
It wasn’t easy.
Anything fancy made it seem like she was trying too hard, or that she was reading as much into this meal as Mason apparently was. She didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. In the end, she put on a pair of jeans, an off-the-shoulder top and heels. Casual but not sloppy. It would have to do.
She made sure to tell Maria at breakfast that morning that she would be missing dinner, both because she wasn’t sure she’d make it back by the nine o’clock curfew and because she felt bad about leaving the other woman alone again. She’d come to look forward to the hour or so they spent eating and simply talking in the serenity of Ophelia’s kitchen.
And because Maria automatically assumed she was seeing her brother, Tess had felt compelled to admit the truth about agreeing to go out with Mason. Maria didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. The look she gave Tess was enough.
Don't Trust Me Page 20
