Don't Trust Me

by Jessica Lynch

  Tess didn't blame her. After the way Mason treated her yesterday, spending time alone with him was the last thing she wanted to do. She just couldn’t see any way out of it.

  At ten to seven, she decided that if she continued to pace the length of the Lavender Room, there was a good chance she’d jump out of the window again. Shaking off her anxiousness, she opened the door and peeked down the hall, glancing toward Maria’s room.

  The door was closed. Either Maria had gone out for the evening herself or she didn’t want to be disturbed.

  Lucky.

  So that she didn’t have to worry about Mason bothering Maria when he rang the doorbell, Tess decided to wait for him in the foyer. She thought about bringing her purse, decided against it, then grabbed her coat and another outdated magazine to peruse while she waited.

  It wasn't long. The clock had just finished chiming the hour when the chirpy doorbell echoed through the room.

  Seven o’clock on the nose. She called it.

  With a nervous sigh, Tess set her magazine down on the couch, smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from her blouse, then shimmied on her coat. Though it was the last thing she wanted to do, she got up and answered the door.

  She had to admit, Mason Walsh sure cleaned up well. He had such an appealing boy next door sort of thing going on. He didn’t bother with a jacket, instead wearing a soft caramel-colored sweater over a cream button-down shirt and a pair of pressed khakis. In the evening breeze, she caught a hint of his aftershave. Dark and spicy, she had to admit she liked it.

  “You look nice,” she told him honestly.

  “And you look beautiful.”

  Tess caught the way his eyes looked her up and down, obviously pleased with what he was seeing. Remembering yesterday, she immediately went on her guard. Mason might be pleased with her now—how long would that last? She was poised, ready for another of his mood swings.

  He gestured for her to step out onto the porch. But, before he could help her down the steps, Mason steered her toward the picturesque swing that took up one side of Ophelia’s porch.

  “Sit with me?” he asked.

  As if she could say no.

  It swayed a little as she climbed up on the wooden seat. Mason waited until she was situated before he sat beside her. He closed the gap between them so neatly, she didn’t think she could slip a sheet of paper between their thighs.

  “So,” he began, one heel of his boot against the porch as he rocked them softly, “Willie told me that you were down at the station today. I wanted to take a second and talk to you about that.”

  It seemed as if the ever faithful Hamlet gossip mill had kept him up to date on her trip downtown to be interrogated again. Like she needed the reminder.

  “It was just some more questions. I’m used to it by now.”

  He waved her obvious brush-off away with his hand. “Not that. She told me that there was something you were going to ask me but you didn’t want her to buzz me in case I was busy. Before we went out, I wanted to remind you that there’s nothing you can do that would bother me. If there’s anything you need, I want you to feel like you can always come to me.”

  “I need that sheriff to stop treating me like a criminal.”

  It popped out before she even realized she was going to say it. And there was no way she could take it back.

  Mason pressed his heel down, stopping the swing in its motion. He stood up, framing her body as he rested one arm along the side closest to him. “Don’t let my boss upset you. This is new for all of us. We’re trying our best.”

  She stayed seated. The rocking of the swing after Mason got up was strangely calming. Tess folded her hands in her lap, staring at her nails. “I know, and I appreciate how hard you’re all working on my husband’s case. But she’s still convinced I had something to do with Jack’s death. Nothing I can do to make her see reason. I've given up on trying.”

  She pointedly didn’t mention how Sheriff De Angelis was also convinced she had a hand in Lucas getting shot. Tess wasn’t completely naive. If Mason knew about the gunshots being fired outside of the doctor’s office, she was sure she would’ve heard from him far before tonight. The sheriff must have kept the investigation into the shooting from her deputy. She could only assume why.

  Something told her that turnabout was fair play. Mason kept the night with the note a secret. Now it was the sheriff’s turn.

  Tess didn't say a word about it at all.

  Mason’s voice was a rumble deep in his chest. “That’s impossible!” He sounded angry on her behalf.

  Oh, yeah. That would be exactly why.

  Still, she huffed. “It’s nice that someone believes me.”

  “I've always believed you.”

  “You'd have to. You're the one who stuck me in the holding cell. You know I was there.”

  “No, it's not just that. I trust you, Tess. And, okay, I know we just met and, yes, the circumstances are less than ideal, but I want you to trust me, too.”

  There was something in his earnestness that caught her attention. She’d been picking at her thumbnail, unwilling to look him in the eye in case she saw something there that she couldn’t reciprocate. But she heard it instead. And, as much as she wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening, it was.

  Her stomach sank. Glancing up, there was no hiding the utter adoration splayed across his face as he focused on her.

  Why, she wondered. What the hell had she done to make this man think so highly of her and want her so badly when they were strangers a week ago? And what the hell could she do to stop it?

  She gentled her tone. “Mason, you’re very sweet, but—”

  But? He didn’t want to hear anything that came after a but.

  Before she could finish her thought, Mason reached down and placed his hands on her cheeks. The move surprised her into silence. Tilting her head back as he leaned over her, Mason pressed his lips to hers. Tess gasped and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside her mouth, kissing her with all the passion he felt since they first met but had kept trapped inside for fear of scaring her off too soon.

  She didn’t struggle. If she had, he would’ve immediately backed off. But neither did she kiss him back. He nipped at her bottom lip, desperately trying to get her to respond. After a moment that seemed like forever, he felt the hesitance of her response. She was nowhere near as enthusiastic as he was. Mason didn’t care. Tess was melting into his caress at last.

  He’d won. The deputy, not the meddling doctor. After fighting it these last few days, she was finally admitting that she felt the same pull toward him that he'd recognized that first night in Thirsty’s.

  Kismet. Fate. She was meant to find her way to Hamlet, this outsider with the golden eyes and a lonely heart. Sullivan hadn't deserved her and now that he was gone, Mason wasn't going to let this chance slip away from him. Tess was his.

  At least, that’s what he thought. When Tess wiggled up against the back of the porch swing, he followed her until he was kneeling beside her again. Mason wanted to hold onto her forever, until he could be sure he had her heart and everything that went with it, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Not yet. Didn't stop him from trying, though. Only when he felt her palms push frantically against his chest did he finally let her go.

  Her pale cheeks turned crimson, burning up with color. Scrambling out of the porch swing, she moved until she was a few feet away from him. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Yes,” he said. His voice husky, his gaze narrowed on her shiny, plump lips. He did that to her. He’d give everything he had to do it again. “You don’t have to fight it, Tess. Your husband’s gone now. I’m here for you. You can give in.”

  She ran her pointer finger along the edge of her bottom lip. “It’s not that easy.”

  It could be, Mason thought.

  “You don't believe me. I know it's crazy when we only just met, but I've always thought I would know when I found the one I wanted to be with.”

  “You
can't mean—”

  “It's you. I know it is. Don't you feel it too?”

  She couldn't answer him. Regardless of what she did or did not feel, everything was happening too fast. A week ago, she was getting ready to go on a second honeymoon with her husband. Mason was right about one thing. Jack was gone. But Tess wasn't looking for a replacement. She was just looking for a way to get back to her normal life.

  “You want me to prove myself,” he announced after a moment’s silence.

  “What? Mason, no.”

  He continued as if she hadn’t said a word. “I can do that. I’ll show you that I mean what I say. You think the sheriff is going to pin your husband’s murder on you?”

  “She’s just doing her job,” Tess said. She grabbed his sleeve, trying to force him into listening to her. “I’m being oversensitive. Come on. Forget it. Let’s go get dinner.”

  “You won’t enjoy yourself. You’re such a good girl—Sheriff’s got no reason to think you could be behind any of this. I’ve told her a hundred times this last week. She's as stubborn as an ass. I’ll have to try again.”

  Tess gave another fruitless tug. “You don’t have to do that, Mason.”

  His touch was careful, like she was made from spun glass. He definitely hadn’t forgotten yesterday’s angry grab.

  Slowly, easy, he loosened her fingers from the holes she was worrying into the sleeve of his sweater. “I do. This is something I can do for you. Let me take care of it, Tess. As God as my witness, I’ll do whatever I have to do to make her see the truth. And maybe then you’ll see me.”

  “Stay,” she begged. “I don't want anything to happ—”

  “It won't. Trust me. The sheriff will listen. I'll take care of everything. When I'm done, I'll come back for you.”

  She stood there, stunned, as he ducked his head, managing to steal her lips one more time before he pulled her to his chest and embraced her tightly. It only lasted the length of a heartbeat and then he let her go. She caught the lines bracketing his mouth, determination etched in every furrow, as his eyes bored down on her, like he was memorizing every single freckle and beauty mark she had.

  And then he was gone.

  Tess chased after his cruiser. She didn’t know why. It was a gut reaction. Something told her it was a really bad idea to let Mason confront his boss after she accidentally riled him up.

  But Mason, it seemed, had a lead foot. He was already turning the corner by the time she reached the first street lamp, hobbled by her heels. She grabbed the lamp post, hunched over as she struggled to catch her breath. No way she was going to stop him if he was in his cruiser and she only had her feet.

  God damn it, why didn't she have her car back yet?

  It would be pointless to keep running after him. She kicked off her heels, stopping only to swoop them up again before racing back to Ophelia. Her head thudding in time to the thumps of her bare feet against the porch steps, she tore into the foyer and ran right to her room.

  Her purse was tucked neatly on the desk in the corner. Grabbing it, she dumped it on the bed, pawing through it until she found her cell phone. A second later, she threw it back on the bed.

  The screen was black. Her cell was dead. Not that it mattered. She’d forgotten that there wasn’t any service, or a phone number that she could call. It had been another instinctual reaction to go right for her phone, but it was worthless in Hamlet. She needed one of those radios—

  Maria had a radio.

  She didn’t bother with the intercom. Pausing only to jam her tender feet into her slippers, Tess hurried down the hall that led to her hostess’s room. It didn’t matter if Maria was home. After watching her habits these last few days, Tess knew that Maria usually left her radio in her bedroom.

  She could use it. She would use it.

  Maria’s door was still closed. She remembered herself, then remembered the story of Mack Turner and his attack on Maria in time to keep from barging into the room. Panting slightly, still out of breath, she pounded the flats of her hands against the wood.

  “Maria?” The words came out strangled, her voice strained. She swallowed roughly and tried again. Bam! Bam! Bam! “Maria? Please, are you here?”

  No answer.

  She tried the handle anyway. It didn’t turn at all.

  Locked.

  What was she going to do now?

  “Tessa? Why are you trying to break into my room?”

  Maria!

  Tess whirled on her. Wide-eyed and flushed, she blurted out, “You have to help me! Please, I need to use your radio!”

  Maria hurried forward. She recognized the panic in the other woman’s voice, the fright that kept her pupils wide, her eyes staring. She’d felt like that herself not too long ago.

  Something was wrong.

  Though her first instinct was to grab her bat, Maria forced herself to put her hands on her knees and bend enough that she was eye to eye with Tess. “Shh, sweetie, I’m here now. I'll help.”

  “It’s Mason. He—” Part of Tess thought she was overreacting. Maybe she was. But if something happened— “It’s the sheriff… he went to go talk to her.”

  Maria straightened, bemused. That’s what had Tess so worked up? “Caity’s his boss. I’m sure it’ll be fine. He reports to her all the time.”

  Tess shook her head. “Not like this. You didn’t— okay. Okay. This is what happened—“

  In between shallow breaths, Tess struggled to explain how Mason came to take her out only to lose it when she told him how Sheriff De Angelis refused to treat her as a victim instead of the villain.

  And then, that last look he shot her… the determination, the drive. He got it in his head that he would be her white knight, riding in to save the day. She could live with that, she could deal, except she couldn’t deny the desperation in his kiss.

  That’s what scared her. Because Mason was suddenly desperate. And Tess knew better than most that desperation and impulsiveness could be a very dangerous combination.

  “He kissed me,” she bit out. Maria saw a lick of color creep into Tessa’s pale cheeks. “I didn’t ask him to. I didn’t want him to. But he did and then he left and I’m so very scared because he was talking crazy, Maria. I don’t know what he’s going to do.”

  She just knew it wouldn’t be good.

  Tess didn’t say that last part out loud. From the furrow in Maria’s brow to the way she released Tess to stroke the silver chain at her throat, she knew she didn’t have to.

  Maria finally understood.

  She nodded. “Mase is going to see Caity? Let’s give her fair warning, yes?”

  Or maybe she didn’t understand.

  Tess threw her hand behind her, slapping the closed bedroom door. “I’m trying to!”

  “He isn’t acting like himself,” Maria confirmed. Now her pale blue eyes had gone dark with sudden worry. Yes. She did get it. “If he says the wrong thing to Caity, she might fire him. It would kill Mase to lose his job, and Cait, too, if she had to let one of her guys go. No, no, no.”

  “The radio— that’s why I need your radio.”

  “Dammi un secundo. Wait here.”

  Instead of entering her room, Maria spun around, her long dark hair a curtain that whipped behind her as she ran down the hall. Tess began to nibble on her thumbnail, realized what she was doing and let her hand fall to her side.

  One second turned into a minute, then two before Maria came jogging back. She carried her communicator in her right hand.

  “I had it with me in the kitchen when I was prepping dinner earlier,” she explained. “I already buzzed the station. Sly told me that the sheriff went home. So I tried Caity, but no answer. Come on. I’ll take you there. If he goes to the station first, we might be able to beat him to her place. And we can always try buzzing her again in the car.”

  Tess just managed to snap her seatbelt closed before Maria sped off in her coupe. The roads were empty and Maria drove even more recklessly than her brother. Tess wa
s beginning to think her overwhelming anxiety had rubbed off on Maria until both of them were racing against Mason’s cruiser.

  Maria wanted to make sure her old friend kept his job. Tess… she wanted to make sure that no one else got hurt because of her.

  No sign of Mason as they drove. Normally, the intense speed would’ve caused Tess’s heart to lodge in her throat. Since she was so busy trying to page Caitlin De Angelis over and over again, she barely noticed how fast Maria was going.

  The buzzes went unanswered. That only made the feeling that something bad was going to happen even worse. Tess caught herself gnawing nervously on her thumbnail again and let it go.

  Just how far was the sheriff’s house from Ophelia?

  She had to trust that Maria knew where she was going. Hamlet was small, and in the handful of days she’d been stuck there, she’d only seen a fraction of what it had to offer. When they pulled up in front of a quaint pale blue house on the corner, she didn’t recognize it. She turned in her seat, gripping the seatbelt strap.

  There. A police cruiser. Yes!

  Maria leaned on her horn, one continuous squeal, as she skid to a fast stop along the curb, leaving burning rubber in her wake. Only one cruiser was parked there. She came within an inch of the bumper, killing the engine before they both climbed out of the coupe. Tess tossed Maria’s radio onto the passenger seat, slamming the door behind her as she stepped onto the grass.

  “Is this her house?” she asked.

  “Yes. And that’s her cruiser,” Maria said, pointing at the other car. “No sign of Mason, though.”

  A sigh of relief. The tight knot in her stomach relaxed the tiniest fraction. It felt good to be wrong. “Maybe he didn’t come here after all. Maybe I—”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Tess gulped. The sheriff sounded pissed. Now that she saw for herself that Mason hadn’t come to confront De Angelis, she wanted to get the hell out of there.

  She grabbed Maria's sleeve, tugged it once. “Okay, she's fine, still no Mason and I definitely overreacted. Can we go now?”