She could see from the dark blue cap he wore, the one with USPS stitched in white, that this meeting had everything to do with his habit of collecting mail from the nearest town and delivering it to the Hamlet locals. The small village didn’t warrant a post office of its own; just Phil and his repurposed golf cart that he used to gather and dole out the letters and packages.
Unlike an official mail carrier, Phil didn’t make his rounds every day. She usually spied him scooting past Ophelia once a week, though, and she often saw him down at Jefferson’s market where he did the shopping for his family. She liked Phil. Unlike some of the other locals, he never made her feel like she didn’t belong.
After stopping to set down her armful of supplies on the edge of the porch, Grace turned to head toward him. No reason for Phil to climb out of his cart when she could meet him by the street. “Hi, Phil. How are you?”
When she heard Natalie echo her greeting, Grace realized that the deputy had followed her to the curb. Since she wasn’t quite sure she bought Natalie’s reasons for coming over to Ophelia on her day off, she pointedly ignored her in favor of talking to Phil.
“Today delivery day?” she asked.
“That’s right. Let me get Ophelia’s for you.”
Phil kept his oversized mailbag on the passenger seat. As organized as ever, he reached in and pulled out a bundle tied together with a pale blue ribbon. She knew from past experience that he used the same ribbon every time he dropped mail off for Maria. It was his way of distinguishing whose mail went where.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Grace accepted the stack of letters Phil held out toward her. “I’ll make sure Maria gets them.”
“Hang on, Miss Delaney. Looks like you’ve finally got some mail of your own. About time, huh?”
“What? Me?”
He nodded, bending low to retrieve something from the floor of his cart. “Ran into this man just outside of Hamlet’s borders. He asked me to make sure I delivered this to you personally.” Phil beamed, first at one woman, then the other, as he extended the large violet-colored envelope to Grace. “Wasn’t even wearing my hat then and he knew I was in charge of the post in town all the same.”
She had to take it. Though warning bells went off at the mention of some strange man meeting Phil outside of Hamlet, they were clanging sirens by the time she understood that her hiding place had truly been compromised. Not only did this man know she was in Hamlet, but he was also able to trace her right to Maria’s doorstep.
Tucking Maria’s mail under her arm for safekeeping, she peered down at the address scrawled across the front of the pale purple envelope. It might’ve been nerves, or maybe because of the fancy calligraphy, but it took her a moment to read what was written across the center:
Miss Grace Delaney
℅ Ophelia
12 Orchard Avenue
Hamlet
There was… there was no denying that. No pretending there was a mistake. Her glance flickered to the top left corner. Nothing there. She flipped it to the back. No return address. Back to the front. No stamp, either. It was as if someone had hovered just outside of Hamlet in the hopes that kind-hearted, civic-minded Phil Granger would do everything he possibly could to make sure Grace got this letter.
Her stomach clenched. No. Not someone.
No matter what this envelope held inside of it, Grace had the one thing she didn’t really want: confirmation.
Tommy Mathers had found her at last.
18
While Grace struggled to hold it together, Natalie laughed. “Your fame’s spreading, Phil.”
“You think so, Deputy?”
“Of course.”
“My Erlinda would love to hear that. I’ll have to make sure—”
Her pulse raced, her heart thump-thump- thumping so loudly, it drowned out the conversation going on behind her. She carefully stepped away from the curb.
The letter stole all of her attention. Part of her wanted to rip it in two and toss it in the trash without even opening it. If she didn’t know what it said, she could cling to her blissful ignorance for a little longer.
Then again, just because she spent these last few weeks trying hard to forget, desperately trying to pretend that Tommy wasn’t out there, it didn’t make it so. And maybe—God, please, she prayed, maybe—she was getting all worked up over nothing. Lucas and Tessa promised that she couldn’t be hunted down in Hamlet, and she got rid of Tommy’s tracker as far away from the entrance to Hamlet as she dared.
She took a deep, shaky breath. This was it. Either it was him, or it wasn’t. Either he found her, or running for so long had finally driven her insane.
Grace felt like she was about to crack up if she hadn’t already. Another deep breath, a panicked exhale.
Okay.
Keeping her back to Natalie and Phil, Grace stuck her pointer finger beneath the flap and gently eased it open. A single piece of a thick cream-colored card stock was tucked inside the purple envelope. Torn between feeling jittery and hopeful, she grit her teeth and drew the letter out.
No, she saw immediately. Not letter.
Invitation.
She was dimly aware of Phil’s cheery goodbye and the hum of his golf cart as he continued down the street toward Ophelia’s nearest neighbor. Grace might have mumbled her own farewell, or maybe not. It wasn’t important.
“No.” The word slipped out. Her bottom lip trembled. Sudden tears made her vision hazy, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the invitation in her hand. “Just... no.”
How could he? He couldn’t—it just wasn’t possible.
No. The force of her denial seemed to echo around her; at the same time, the drumbeat in her skull, the blood rushing past her ears… it drowned out everything else. Her throat burned, as if she had screamed out loud. That one word kept repeating over and over again as if, by chanting it, she could change the fancy script, the embossed letters, the plainly stated threat. No, no, no. NO!
“Grace? Hey, Grace. You, uh… you okay?”
So maybe she didn’t scream. Natalie would’ve known something was really wrong then. Maybe she did, anyway. She didn’t know. Grace couldn’t tear her gaze away long enough to check. Her eyes were glued to the elaborate invitation. The longer she stared at it, the more she hoped that the words would miraculously rearrange themselves and spell out something totally different.
Because there was no way that it could say what she thought it said.
Only it absolutely did.
It was difficult for her to draw in a breath. Each one was short, absolute panic keeping her from inhaling too deep, and she began to feel lightheaded. Her hands shook, fingers clutching the thick stock so tightly that the edges started to crimp.
Natalie was still talking. To her? Maybe. She tried to focus.
“—you’re looking real pale all of a sudden. Oh, boy. Umm… maybe you should sit down. Yeah. I think you should sit down.”
Sit down? Yes. Sitting down sounded like a great idea. Her legs felt so wobbly all of a sudden and she was going to need them. Because her first instinct? Like every time before, her first instinct—her only instinct—was to run, to just hightail it right out of Hamlet.
It wasn’t safe.
It never had been.
Tommy found her, like she was afraid he would. Of course, he did.
He’ll never stop.
Grace’s eyes went wide at the realization. Her whole body shook, then the last of her sudden weakness set in with another shallow breath. She collapsed onto the grass, holding tightly to the cursed invitation as if she couldn’t let go of it. Maria’s forgotten bundle of letters landed with a soft plop behind her.
The purple envelope she held in her other hand slipped from her fingers. It drifted gently on the breeze, landing directly in front of Natalie’s sneakers.
The second Grace dropped, Natalie sprang into action.
She thought something was wrong when the outsider went deathly pale; w
atching her tremble, standing there stunned as Grace fell, she was absolutely convinced of the fact. She immediately took a knee next to Grace, moving until she could look the other woman in the eye.
They should’ve been a light brown. With how dilated her pupils were all of a sudden, the expanse of black made her eyes appear darker. They were also glassy, kind of dazed, like she was seeing something that wasn’t really there. Natalie waved her hand in front of them, trying to get a reaction, only to feel a rush of panic when Grace didn’t even blink.
Ah, crud. How was she going to explain to Ricky what was going on with his girlfriend? And right when she finally got the nerve to apologize for her jealousy. Would he believe she had nothing to do with this if she had to call him for help?
Considering Grace still wasn’t responding, not even after Natalie grabbed her shoulder and gave her a quick shake, she knew she would have to call someone.
There wasn’t a doctor in Hamlet anymore. Doctor De Angelis moved out of town shortly following his wife—no, no his ex-wife, she remembered—his ex-wife’s murder. If a local needed medical care, it was at least a half hour’s drive to the next county. If it was an emergency, they prayed like hell and sped like Satan himself chased behind their vehicle.
Oh man, oh man, ohman.
They didn’t cover anything like this in her training. She saw the help wanted sign posted at the station house, got an application from Willie Parker, promised she was fit enough to do the job, and was deputized. She was thrown on patrol, partnered with Ethan more often not, and just tried to do what the sheriff and Ricky did.
What would they do now?
Natalie gave Grace another shake, rougher this time.
Grace let out a soft whimper.
Good. Okay. That was good.
Lifting Grace’s arm, she settled it over her shoulder and behind her neck, holding onto the outsider woman by her fingers. They were clammy and cold. Natalie tried not to notice that as she stood up, taking all of Grace’s weight. She wanted the other woman to stand on her own. No dice. Grace was like a wet noodle, limp and weak. She leaned into Natalie as she struggled to support her.
Natalie gritted her teeth, adjusting her hold on Grace’s arm before she joined her on the ground. “Come on. Let’s get you out of the grass. That sound alright?”
Somehow she got through to the dazed outsider. Thank the friggin’ Lord. As Natalie dug in her heels, Grace nodded, then shifted until she was standing unsteadily on her own two feet. Natalie half-dragged, half-guided Grace up the steps, leading her to the other end of the porch.
Once Natalie helped Grace slump onto the porch swing, she unclipped her radio from the back of her jeans, knowing she had to. A quick turn of the knob, setting the right channel, and she broadcasted a call. “This is Deputy Newton. I have a situation over at Ophelia—”
Her buzz was cut off almost immediately by Sheriff Collins.
“Maria? What happened to Maria?”
Though she called on the Hamlet Sheriff Department line, she expected Willie to answer, or maybe Ethan. Ricky was off today; besides, he was notorious for keeping his communicator closed to all lines except his personal channel. And Sheriff Collins was usually too busy for buzzes unless they were on his emergency line.
Then again, everyone in Hamlet knew that he had a pretty serious thing going with Maria De Angelis. Of course he would think the worst when she said she was at Ophelia.
She quickly signaled back. “Negatory, sir. It’s her guest. Grace. She’s gone pale all of a sudden, real shaky-like. I thought for a second she was gonna faint on me, so now I’ve got her resting on Ophelia’s swing. She’s not responsive, though, not really. If you ask me, it’s like she has the fear of God in her and it doesn’t… doesn’t seem right. I’m sorry, Sheriff. I didn’t know what else to do.”
The crackle of static, then, “You did the right thing, Deputy. Stay where you are, keep an eye on her. I’ll take care of this.”
“Yes, sir.”
The red light on her communicator blinked off. Sheriff Collins had switched from the Hamlet Sheriff Department’s channel.
Natalie kept the radio in her hand as she went back to check on Grace; if she heard any of the conversation between Natalie and the sheriff, she didn’t show it. Like before, she was staring at the piece of paper in her hand as if it held all the answers in the universe—and they were bad answers.
What did it say? Natalie had to know. Whatever it was had to be the cause behind Grace’s strange behavior.
“What do you got there?” she asked softly. “Can I see?”
Grace’s lower lip trembled. With a sharp shake of her head, she tucked the card stock closer to her chest.
Just when Natalie was about to pull rank and insist as a HSD deputy, the sound of a door opening had her glancing toward the front of Ophelia. A flurry of Italian announced who it was seconds before Maria burst out onto the porch, dashing to the swing. She had the handle of a battered, old baseball ball clutched tightly in her right hand, dragging it behind her as she rushed toward her guest. Natalie just managed to avoid being hit with it.
As soon as Maria reached the swing, she crouched down in front of the outsider. “Grace, sweetie. Sly buzzed me and said you’re not doing so well. What’s wrong, amica? You tell Maria, and I promise I’ll understand. You know that. Non sei solo. Yes?”
Grace blinked slowly, finally tearing her blank gaze away from the paper in her hand. When she saw it was Maria, she gasped out a short breath and, before anyone could react, she threw her arms around the statuesque beauty.
Natalie backed up further, shuffling her sneakers in her haste to get away. She tried not to take it too personally that Grace accepted Maria’s support so readily, but the scene from the last time they met still haunted her. The outsider had seemed on the verge of accepting her apology before she got sick or whatever—and maybe she still would—but it was obvious that Grace’s relationship with Ricky wasn’t the only one she forged in the short time she’d been in town.
She felt like she was intruding. Sheriff Collins must have buzzed Maria after her open-air call. Made sense. Since she was inside Ophelia, she was already on-site; having had Grace as a guest all this time, she knew her better than most. And, Natalie had to admit as she watched Maria rub Grace’s back in gentle circles, the other woman seemed to be getting her color back some now that Maria was there.
But she was a deputy, whether on duty or off. Sheriff Collins gave her an order. Stay where you are. That’s what she would do until relieved from her duty.
No matter how uncomfortable it made her.
Maria might’ve been the first person Sly buzzed, but she wasn’t the only one.
Rick was in the middle of a set when his radio went off. Because Grace promised her afternoon to her students, he was spending his downtime in his personal gym, trying to exhaust himself so that he didn’t jump the woman before their date. He wanted to take her out of Hamlet for a proper night out, spend the evening without a hundred curious eyes watching their every move.
Just the other day, he walked in on Willie gossiping over the line with Bonnie Mitchell, the two of them organizing some kind of wedding pool. To his ever-loving embarrassment, he discovered he and Grace were the talk of the whole village. And, after growing up there and living most of his life with these people, he expected something like this. Even so, it was a shock to find out that the matrons of Hamlet were already trying to marry him off.
What worried him even more? He… didn’t hate the idea. It felt right, thinking of Grace Delaney as his wife one day.
One day, he stressed to himself as he counted off his reps, the radio chiming from somewhere below his bench.
Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
Rest.
With a heft, he lifted the bar up and settled it on the rack above him. Metal clanked against metal as the weight bench jolted under the heavy weight. He was back up to pressing three fifty. Another fifty pounds and he’d match his limit from
his PT days.
Parking his butt on the bench, Rick reached beneath it, snatching the communicator. There was only one person it could be since it was set to his private line. Grace didn’t have a radio of her own yet, and the only one with access to his channel was Sly. And Sly would only buzz him if it was important. He had to take this page.
He squeezed the receiver. “Hart speaking.”
Crackle. “Rick? Hey Rick?” Sly’s voice came through the transmitter, deep and resonant. “Do you copy?”
“Affirmative. What’s going on? I’m off duty, but if you need me down at the station house, give me a sec to shower and yank on my uniform. I can be there in fifteen.”
“I’m not calling my deputy in. I’m calling in my friend. Rick, buddy, you need to get your ass down to Ophelia’s as soon as you can.”
Rick jumped to his feet. “Maria need help?”
“It’s not Maria. It’s your Grace.”
His blood ran cold. Clenching his radio in his fist, he crushed the side, jamming his fingers against the button. “What’s happened to her? She was supposed to be safe inside of Maria’s place. No one was supposed to get to her there. Damn it, Sly! What happened?”
“I don’t know. I’d tell you if I could—I just got the buzz myself and I’m way past mountainside, dealing with a cat in a tree. I’ll join you as soon as I’m done, but I figured you’d want to go now. Report is that she’s had some kind of spell. First on scene couldn’t say much, and I’ve already got Maria outside making sure she’s doing okay. She’s not in trouble, Rick. She’s… I think she’s sick. Something’s definitely not right.”
Sick. Okay. Better than the first thought that popped in his head—that the bastard that kept her running had finally caught up with her. He didn’t like it, though. A spell? What the hell did that mean?
“Sick? Like how? Food poisoning? An allergy? What am I heading into here?”
The radio went silent for a second, before the soft echo of background noise—and one high-pitched yowl from a frightened cat—filtered through the communicator. Sly stayed quiet a moment longer, as if picking the words he wanted to say.
I'll Never Stop (Hamlet Book 4) Page 20