So though she would have much rather closed her eyes and pretend to be asleep, she called out a reply. “The door’s unlocked.”
The rattle of the doorknob was followed by the clanking of cutlery. Maria bumped the door in with her hip, struggling to right the tray she held out in front of her with both hands. She listed to one direction, taking careful steps not to slosh the glass of water or spill the heavy plate of food she carried.
Tess immediately started to rise. “I’m sorry. I should’ve—”
“No, no, no. You’re my guest. Stay there, stay comfortable. I’ve got this.”
It didn’t matter that Maria told her to stay put. Tess’s first instinct was to jump up and help and while she still wanted to, she also didn’t want to insult her hostess. Moving so that she was on the edge of the bed, she readied her body to move quickly in case it looked like Maria was going to stumble and drop the tray.
And then she saw the familiar grey strap crossing Maria’s body and understood exactly why the other woman was having a hard time managing her tray. Tess’s bag had to weigh at least thirty pounds.
“My luggage!”
At the sight of the grey and pink oversized, overstuffed duffel bag slung over Maria’s slender frame, she felt her heart lighten for the first time since she left home. She didn’t realize how little she had until something that was hers before was in front of her, back in her possession.
Even better? Hanging off of Maria’s wrist, Tess caught sight of her purse. She had left that behind in the inn, too, and very nearly decided to write it off as a loss since she never wanted to go inside that room again.
It was tough, but she resisted the urge to reach out and snatch it off of Maria’s arm. “My purse, too! Oh my god, thank you. I didn’t know how I was going to get it back.”
Maria placed her tray down on the nightstand beside the bed. “Don’t thank me. Deputy Walsh dropped it by. He wanted to make sure you were doing fine.”
“Oh.” Some of her happiness died away at Maria’s admission. She vaguely remembered that the deputy said he’d bring her her luggage. Checking up on her so soon, though? Tess wasn’t sure what to make of that. “How… nice of him.”
Nice nothing, Maria bet. She had known Mason her whole life. That man might seem like the perfect deputy. She never fully bought into his act. From the time he was a ten-year-old brat who insisted on claiming the best-looking cupcake in the lunchroom as his due, she watched as Mason did whatever he had to to get whatever he wanted.
She recognized the gleam in his dark eyes when he asked about the outsider. He wanted her. Unfortunately for him, she also knew her brother very well. She didn’t understand it, wouldn’t question it, but Maria knew who she was pulling for. No matter what, she would always stand in Lucas’s corner.
“Sure. He also wanted to remind you to have something to eat. I managed to shoo him out when I showed him I was on my way up with your supper.” She gestured to the plate on the tray. “I make homemade chicken pot pies on Sundays. It’s my favorite stick-to-your-ribs, comfort food. I thought you might like one. Anyone needs some comfort, sweetie, it’s you.”
“You're bringing me dinner?”
“I know Ophelia’s supposed to be a bed and breakfast but, hey, I like to cook. Eat what you can and I’ll come back to pick up the dishes in a bit. Anything else I can get for you?”
Tessa glanced at the tray. Maria had provided utensils, napkins and a glass of ice water along with the crispy, golden-brown pot pie. It looked amazing and, though her stomach was queasy, she had to admit it smelled delicious.
She shook her head. “I think I have everything already. That was really nice of you.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m just doing my job. Eat up. I’ll knock when I come back.” With a wave, Maria started to head back through the open door. Just as she stepped over the threshold, though, she paused, then turned back around. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Locks automatically engage at nine. The doors open again at seven. If you need to get in or out during those hours, please let me know in advance so that I can take care of it.”
“Locks?” Tess repeated. She knew her head was heavy, and she’d had a terrible shock, but she didn’t know what the other woman meant. “What kind of locks? I don’t understand.”
Maria looked uneasy. She tucked her hair behind her ears, staring at a point on the wall about two feet to the left of Tessa as she entered the room again. “Ophelia’s doors have a dual lock system. You can lock the door on the inside yourself if you want privacy. But, for the safety of me and my guests, there’s an outer lock. Once it goes on, it’s like the whole house is on lockdown. I can’t change it once it’s set.”
“Don't you— I mean, isn't that a little much?”
“It was Luc’s idea. He insisted. It was the only way he’d let me even think about letting guests stay again.”
“And you're sure that’s...”
Tess didn’t want to accuse Maria of anything, but she couldn’t think of a nice way of saying legal without implying that what she was doing was illegal. Which, she was pretty sure, locking the whole house down without giving her guests a choice had to be. This was supposed to be a bed and breakfast, not a jail.
She let her words hang in the air.
“I know what you’re saying,” Maria replied, “but I gave up fighting with Lucas years ago. Let’s just say, when your brother has an in with the sheriff and an overprotective streak a mile wide, little things like ‘should he do it’ don’t really matter as much as you'd think.”
From what Tess knew of the doctor, he was level-headed, the type of man to keep cool during a crisis. To go so far as to install a lockdown system in a rural bed and breakfast that would rival one in an institution seemed at odds with the image Lucas tried to project. It didn’t make any sense to her.
“Why would he insist on locks? It seems so—” Again, Tess had to choose her words carefully. Her first instinct was to use dangerous. Instead, she settled on: “—so extreme.”
“Well, it might’ve been because of Mack Turner.” Maria thought about it for a second before nodding. “No, that’s not right. It’s definitely because of Turner.”
Tess wasn’t sure if she was supposed to know anything about a Mack Turner. A lot of the last day and a half was a blur for her. Some parts remained crystal clear, while others had a cottony haze surrounding them. Perhaps she met this Turner guy, or someone told her about someone with that name. It sort of sounded familiar. Maybe. She wasn’t ready to swear that she knew who Maria was talking about.
Her confusion was obvious. “Nobody told you about Turner?” Maria guessed.
“I don’t think so. Were they supposed to?”
“Maybe not. I mean, it was a bit of a secret when it happened, but there’s no such thing as a secret in Hamlet. You’ll see. You can’t take a crap here without at least three people knowing when you flush.”
Tess couldn’t stop the snort of laughter. She would've thought it was too soon to find anything funny. That was before she met Lucas’s sister. Maria was the first person in Hamlet that didn’t look at her as a conquest, a victim, or a suspect.
It was obvious that the doctor had filled her in on Tessa’s story the second they met in the kitchen but Maria wasn’t treating her any different; the comment about comfort food was the closest she’d come to even touching on the effects of Jack’s murder.
She got the feeling that Maria was the sort of woman who often ran with what life gave her, no questions asked. Her brother dumped the prime lead in a man’s murder into her care and she served her a handmade chicken pot pie while talking about bathroom habits in a small town.
“Don’t mind me. Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain. What was I saying before?” She reached up, fingering the beautiful silver cross she wore on a delicate chain around her neck. “Sorry, I was talking about Turner. No wonder my mind wanders.”
“Turner,” echoed Tess. “Who’s that?”
�
��That cretino was a guest of mine last summer who chose not to follow Hamlet’s rules of hospitality.”
Tess remembered her conversation with Deputy Collins only that morning. Though it felt like a million years separated the Tess from before she found Jack and after, the deputy’s deep, resonant voice stuck in her brain. “‘Hamlet helps’,” she said.
“In Turner’s case, it was more like help yourself. Ugh. Like I said, cretino. An outsider. Not too bad looking, and, I admit, that’s how he fooled me. That, and he insisted on paying up front, renting the biggest room in all of Ophelia. I gave him the Blue Room—except he mustn’t have liked it much since he didn’t stay inside.”
Her whole expression darkened as if remembering something unpleasant. Something that made her furious.
“You don’t have to—”
Maria refused to take Tess’s offer of an out. She waved the other woman’s concerns away. “Everyone knows. You might as well, sweetie, and I’m not ashamed. You see, I woke up when Turner tried to climb in my bed. I might’ve thought it was an accident if he hadn’t tried to cover my mouth so I couldn’t scream. I didn’t have locks then, but there was one thing I did have. I've always kept a baseball bat by my nightstand. When a woman with nothing to lose starts swinging like she’s Babe Ruth, most men don’t linger. Turner didn’t.
“Lucas insisted I close up my B&B, and I went along with it.” Maria’s eyes lit up. “I missed running this place. Ophelia, she's my heart, mia cuore.” She paused, seeing something in Tess’s sudden surprise that caught her attention. “What did I say?”
“Nothing. I just… never mind. Just listening. Please, go on.”
Maria nodded. “Yes, well, what happened with Turner… it spooked me, not going to lie. Getting the locks helped. The year off helped. Now it’s time to bring life back to my Ophelia. I’m so very glad you’re my guest, Mrs. Sullivan.”
So busy trying to pay attention to what Maria was telling her, the pang at being called by Jack’s name was more of a sting this time. It obviously took a lot out of her hostess to share her tale. Though her head was fuzzy, terrible images and horrible guilt trying to sneak back in, Tess was determined to understand.
When she did, she recoiled.
“You’re telling me that this guy… this Turner guy… he snuck into your room?” Tess covered her mouth with her hands, breathing out strangled words around her fingers. A chill skittered up her spine.
Sneaking into a room, rope in hand, a dead man in bed—
“When you were sleeping?” Her voice rose. Her face paled. “Here?”
Maria, realizing her mistake moments too late, quickly waved her arms in front of her. “No, no, it’s not like that. You don’t have to worry about him coming back. They found him the next morning. His truck, it flipped over into the gulley on his way out of town and, dio mio, I’m not helping, am I?” She cringed when she saw the look of horror on Tessa’s colorless face. “Whoopsie. Scusa. I’m so sorry.”
It took her a second to push past the memories. Then, after another moment, one where she vividly remembered the bottomless valley Jack nearly drove them into when they first arrived in Hamlet, Tess finally recovered enough from her shock to say weakly, “Well, I’m definitely onboard with the locks now.”
Four hours later, after dinner had been cleared away and the locks engaged at nine on the dot like Maria promised, Tess hadn’t changed her mind. Though it bothered her that she was basically locked in a pretty, pretty cage, she felt a lot better knowing that the bars served to keep others out far more than to trap her in.
To be fair, her room in Ophelia was gorgeous. Maria called it the Lavender Room. She wasn’t wrong. The walls were painted with the pale purple color, trimmed with a white border. The bedspread was lavender. The lampshade was lavender. The shag carpet was cream-colored, the wooden furniture a deep mahogany; the neutral colors made the purple pop all the more. A purple, white and grey vase was centered on the matching mahogany nightstand. Plastic flowers were artistically arranged inside the vase. They were, of course, lavenders.
An oversized window took up one wall and peered out onto the street in front of Ophelia. A pale purple scalloped valance stretched across the top, with a cream-colored window blind covering the rest of the wide length.
On the other side of the room, a closed door with the same matching ornamental L painted on it caught her attention. The design was lovely, simple at first glance until Tess got closer and realized it was drawn by hand in paint the same shade as the wall. Behind the door, a pristine white bathroom beckoned her.
The only spot of color she saw in the bathroom was the lavender shower curtain pulled taut across the tub. When Tess carried her duffel bag into the cozy room and yanked the curtain back, she let out a soft chuckle. Maria had placed purple anti-slip discs cut in the shape of flowers on the floor of the tub.
No matter her mood, Tess had to appreciate the level of dedication and attention to detail in Ophelia’s master.
Despite the fact that she was obviously the first guest in some time, the water fell from the square-shaped shower head fast and hot. The pounding on her back gave her some relief. For a few stolen minutes, she let all of her worries and fears flow off of her with the shower spray. She imagined the day’s horrors swirling down the drain with the bubbles of her body wash.
When the water went from soothing to chilly, Tess realized it was time to focus on what was next. She couldn’t stay in the shower unless she wanted to drown herself. Even in her thoughts, that wasn’t any kind of legitimate option. She’d come too far to give up so easily now.
Instead, she got out of the shower and dressed in a pair of comfortable sweats that still carried the scent of home on them. Breathing in deep, it was a fierce ache that made her press her hands to her chest. She wished like hell that she was home.
But she wasn’t. Everything in the room, from the precise decorations to the soft feel of the full bed, was a constant reminder that she was far from the cramped bedroom she had shared with Jack in their tiny apartment.
Maybe that was a good thing, she realized as she slipped beneath the lavender and cream-colored quilt. Lying next to his empty place, reaching out for a sleeping body she could no longer touch, surrounded by his things… she wouldn’t have been able to stand it.
She could never have gone back to the hotel room where he died, either. She was so grateful that Lucas brought her to this place, that Maria was cheerfully putting her up in her bed and breakfast.
And maybe, when she woke up the next morning, this would all have been a terrible dream.
There it was again.
At first, when sleep continued to elude her no matter how late it got, she thought she had imagined it. As a super small town, she already noticed that there wasn’t much traffic in Hamlet. After Maria went to bed, Tess was stifled by the silence. It was so quiet. Except for the nagging tick of the clock in her room, she didn’t hear anything until the first time the car passed.
It didn’t bother her. The revving of the engine, the hum as the car passed by the front of the house, it caught her attention because it was a momentary break in the heavy silence. Back home, the apartment where she and Jack lived overlooked a busy throughway. Constant traffic sped past her window all hours of the night.
But then it happened a second time. She froze in place, her fingers gripping the edge of her quilt as she held her breath. The rev, the hum. It sounded exactly the same. There was the smallest of pauses between the two sounds, almost as if the driver idled nearby before taking off again.
Half an hour later, she heard it again. The pause lasted longer this time. She counted it in her head. Sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three… More than a minute ticked by before the car revved up and sped away. The roar of the engine echoed through the night. Her head turned so that she was watching the closed window blinds opposite of her bed. The car had lingered in front of Ophelia. She was almost sure of it.
She waited for close to an hour
. Wound tight and breathing shallowly, her heart thumping in her ears, every single noise seemed magnified. She moved her leg, the whisper of her sweats against the satin sheets sounding like sandpaper against steel.
Just when she started to relax, just when she thought she was overreacting, she heard it again.
Throwing her quilt back, Tess clambered out of the bed. Her toes sank into the thick shag of the carpet, muffling her steps as she ran for her window. She didn’t stop to lift the blinds, choosing instead to shove her jittering fingers through the slats, leaving her a peephole wide enough to get a good look at the street.
Luck was on her side. Though there were only a handful of streetlights out there, leaving most of the road in inky blackness, there was one tall post not too far from Ophelia. Enough light fell in front of the house for her to see the car parked across the street. She squinted. No use. She couldn’t make out the driver’s face, hidden in the shadows.
She didn’t have to. There were only a few people it could be. The Hamlet Sheriff Department only had four current employees. Who else would be driving around in one of their cruisers?
Her fingers slipped off of the blinds, closing the gap she created. She turned away from the window, pressing her back against the wall. As her heart raced, Tess couldn’t stop thinking about Jack, how he’d been sleeping alone in an unfamiliar bed when someone snuck in and strangled him.
Though she already checked three times, Tess tiptoed across the room and tugged on the door. Double bolted. Even if the outer lock was undone, she kept the one inside her room engaged. True, she couldn’t get out, but no one else could get in either. Not even a cop.
Climbing back into bed, she froze when she heard the purr of the car’s engine whisper through her window. It happened so quickly, she wondered if the driver had circled the street and come right back around. Had he seen her looking out at him? If not, she didn’t want to peek through the blinds a second time.
Let it be the cruiser again. She couldn’t stop it.
Don't Trust Me (Hamlet Book 1) Page 11