Don't Trust Me

by Jessica Lynch

  The nearest house was more than twenty feet away. Tess didn’t even think to go there for help. Instead, she ran behind Maria’s bed and breakfast. A copse of trees bordered Ophelia’s backyard. No one would ever think she’d purposely take to the woods.

  It was dark, a sudden chill in the air that warned of another incoming storm, and she was wearing a thin t-shirt and loose sweatpants. She had slippers on, so she wasn’t ruining the bottoms of her feet as she stumbled over rocks and sticks and tangled weeds. She still had to slow her pace more than once to keep from losing one of her shoes.

  Tess was lost the instant she entered the trees. She never had any reliable sense of direction. Add that to the dark night and the fear that led her to run into the woods in the first place, and she knew that there was no way she was getting out again without some help. What she thought was a small gathering of trees proved to be far more vast than the single peek out of Ophelia’s kitchen had led her to believe.

  Once she realized that she had no idea where she was, she stopped running. Her breath came in big gulps as she struggled to get in enough air. Every time she tried, she wheezed, as the air whooshed out again before she managed to swallow it. Her heart raced and her pulse thundered. With her hand clutching a stitch in her side, Tess tried to straighten but froze suddenly in a hunched position when she heard the snapping of a stick not too far from where she was.

  She let out a soft moan as the snapped stick was soon joined by another. The thud of heavy footsteps matched the thud of her heart as she realized her fatalistic mistake. So worried about the threat left on a piece of paper, she listened and ran. The person who wrote the note didn’t have to do anything. In her panicked flight away from trouble, she might’ve killed herself anyway.

  Who was out there? What was out there?

  An animal?

  Worse?

  Tess squinted, desperate to see. No good. Her eyes hadn't adjusted enough; she was basically blind. Leaning down, she scraped her hands across the earth, searching for something she could use as a weapon. Her fingers mashed into the side of a heavy rock. Smaller than a bowling ball yet twice as heavy, she hefted it up in her arms, prepared to bash someone’s head in if she had to.

  “Mrs. Sullivan? Tessa? Is that you? Are you out here?”

  Relief made her weak. She dropped the rock, barely missing the toe of her slipper. “Deputy? I’m over here.”

  The footsteps stopped. There was a click as he turned his flashlight on. The bright yellow beam made her eyes shutter. She lifted her hand to her face, shielding her gaze as she searched for Mason. Once she found him, standing there in his uniform, radio in one hand and flashlight in the other, she flung herself at him. He could’ve been an ax murderer after her and, right then, she would have clung tightly to him like a barnacle. She wasn't alone anymore.

  Mason opened his arms at the last second. As soon as she was pressed up against his chest, he held her close, rubbing his forearm up and down her back in a comforting gesture. “My god, I thought it was you. What are you doing out here?”

  She could ask him the same thing. How did he know to find her? Did he follow her from the cruiser? Or was he waiting for her to do something so stupid as take off into the woods after dark?

  Did he know about the note?

  Did he send it?

  Her heart continued to beat so fast, she thought it was trying to escape. Suddenly, that seemed like a good idea to Tess. “I… I have to go.”

  He tightened his arms around her. “Tess, wait—”

  “No!” Tess’s head was spinning. Panicking, terrified, she had to make him understand. Because, if he wasn't responsible for the threat, someone was. She shoved against his chest. “Listen, there was this note, right? I have to go… it said—”

  Hands clammy, pulse racing, her stomach finally rebelled. Pulling far away from the deputy, she covered her mouth with her hands, speaking through muddy fingers. “Move!”

  Mason blinked, lowering the flashlight. In its reflection, her eyes looked wild, afraid. She was scaring him now. “Tess, what—?”

  He moved closer to her. Tess shoved him away again the instant before she dropped to her knees in the dirt. Her queasy stomach pitched, she fell forward on her hands and heaved.

  Crouching down beside her, Mason rubbed her back in soothing circles. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

  Her skin crawled. Wiping her mouth with the back of her filthy hand, she rested on her knees. The deputy was trying to be helpful. She knew that. It wasn’t his fault she was running scared. And that was the only reason why she didn’t push his outstretched hand away when he crouched in front of her and offered to help her up.

  She didn’t take his hand, either.

  It took her a minute before she felt steady enough to climb back to her feet. Right away, Mason put his arm around her shoulder, trapping her to his side. She was too weary to do more than protest weakly. He pointedly ignored her objections, holding her close as he started to lead her through the woods. Tess stopped fighting. As long as he was taking her back to civilization, she'd go with him gladly.

  When he sensed that she'd given in, Mason clicked his tongue. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself. It’s dangerous, Tess, heading out in the trees at night. You were running at the gulley. Did you know that? If you got that far, it could’ve swallowed you up before you knew it. Thank goodness I found you before you hurt yourself.”

  Tess imagined running into the gaping maw of the valley that bordered Hamlet on one side. She liked to think she’d stop before she tumbled headfirst into the gap. Panic was a funny thing, though. Before she discovered that note, she would’ve thought she’d have enough sense not to hide in an unfamiliar woods wearing nothing but her night clothes and a pair of slippers.

  She shivered, as if just feeling the night’s chill. Mason rubbed his hand along her arm, comforting and warming her at the same time. “Here, let me take you back to my cruiser. I’ve got water in the car. You can sit down, settle your stomach and tell me what it is that’s got you upset. How’s that sound?”

  Tess’s throat burned. She could still taste the bile in her mouth from when her stomach turned. Water sounded amazing, the deputy’s protection and care even better. As her shivers turned to full body trembles, she buried her nose in his uniform jacket and nodded. Mason smelled woodsy, a mix of fresh air and pine.

  It calmed her. Her pulse went from a rapid drumbeat to a dull throb. The adrenaline fading at last, she sagged against him.

  Though it felt like she ran forever, she hadn’t actually gone that far. Within minutes, Mason was leading her out of the trees, half carrying her to where his cruiser waited for him on the opposite side of the street. She tried not to notice it was parked in the same spot as the car that circled past Ophelia all last night.

  Once at the cruiser, Mason insisted on wrapping her in the fleece blanket he had stowed in the trunk of his cruiser. It was fluffy and warm and, though it carried a weird mix of his scent and something she thought might be gun oil, Tess was feeling a lot more settled as he helped her sit in the passenger seat.

  He left the door open as he retrieved two bottles of water from his trunk. He handed one to Tess, then set the other on the ground. Hiking up his uniform trousers, he crouched down so that they were eye to eye.

  He waited for Tess to take a few tentative sips from her bottle before he said, “Okay. Start at the beginning. What happened?”

  It hit her then that she was talking to a deputy. The law. If anyone could help her, he could. So, with a shaky voice and a hint of tears, she did what he asked. And she watched as his handsome face grew grim and grimmer as she spoke.

  “Do you have the note with you?” he asked when she was finished.

  She shook her head. “I must’ve dropped it on the floor when I ran for the door. It was locked, so I went for the window. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I mean obviously, right? I… I just lost my head for a second.”

  “I don�
�t blame you.”

  “It’s just—“ Tess shuddered, a quick shake that had water sloshing out of the top of her bottle. She could still see the threat, knew she wasn’t exaggerating. “Those cut-out letters scared the crap out of me. It was like I had to run. I didn’t want to end up like Jack. I don’t.”

  He didn’t want that, either. “No. Of course not.”

  “I never thought to bring the paper with me when I went.”

  “It’s all right.” Mason patted her knee. “We can get it later. It’s more important that you’re safe now.”

  Tess sat a little straighter in her seat. She didn’t realize how worried she’d been that he wouldn’t believe her outlandish story until he accepted it so easily. “I wasn't before you found me. Thank you.”

  “Hey, I got you. Don't worry.” The pat became a tender caress. “You can trust me.”

  She wasn't so sure she should. The heat from his palm seemed to go through her sweatpants. Why was he touching her? Why did he keep touching her? She didn't want to offend the deputy, but if his hand traveled any further north, she was going to scream again.

  Mason must have sensed it in her silence. Drawing his hand back, he swiveled his body, pointing at the dark, looming shape of the house in front of them. Tess followed his point, relieved at the space he carefully manufactured between them.

  Ophelia was quiet, empty. She couldn’t see a single light on, which was weird considering she hadn’t turned her light off before she escaped through the window.

  “You’re staying there, right?” Mason asked. “At Maria’s place?”

  “Yes. The doctor brought me here yesterday.”

  Tess glanced at Mason’s profile in time to see his jaw tighten.

  “I have to go check this out. I have to check on her.”

  Her stomach dropped straight down to her slippers. In her fright, she’d forgotten all about Maria. “Oh my god. I didn’t think—”

  “Shh. It’s gonna be okay, Tess. Promise.”

  She nodded. She'd have to trust the word of an almost stranger. There was no other choice.

  Mason straightened up, his hands running down the crease of his slacks as he knocked his jacket away from his hip. A stray beam from the street lamp glanced off of something metallic at his side. It caught her eye, and then she stared. She only just noticed that he had a gun strapped into a holder on his belt.

  And she had to wonder if that was always there.

  “I’m going in now. You can stay here in the cruiser and wait,” he offered. “I’ll come get you after I make sure the house is clear.”

  “No.” She had to go back in there with him. She had to make sure Maria was safe inside otherwise she would never forgive herself. Besides, she hated the idea of being left alone outside. “I’ll come with you.”

  He chucked her chin, a devastating smile at ease on his boyish face. He didn't look the least bit worried.

  Tess had to wonder about that.

  “That’s my girl,” he said. There was an excited gleam in his eye that matched his grin. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  14

  The front door was open.

  Mason gestured for Tess to stay on the porch as he pushed the door in and peered into the house. Her hands over her mouth, she leaned on her tiptoes, looking around his body, searching for a threat she couldn’t see.

  It was impossible. Ophelia was pitch dark. This close, she confirmed that all of the lights were off. It was eerily quiet in there.

  “Maria?”

  No answer.

  Mason glanced behind him at Tess, saw the stark terror on her face, and held up his hand. She nodded, her golden eyes too wide in her lovely face. It took everything he had to turn back and take the step over the threshold.

  “Maria? It’s Deputy Walsh. Are you home?”

  Nothing.

  He slipped his gun out of its holster. The cocking of the trigger as he readied the gun echoed in the foyer.

  “Maria?” he called one last time. “I’m coming in.”

  He took three steps into the dark room when, suddenly, a light flicked on, momentarily blinding him. Blinking rapidly to get his sight back, he braced himself to shoot, freezing in place as Maria appeared in the doorway.

  She had a dishtowel in her wet hands, wiping the soap suds off as she dried them.

  “Mase? I thought I heard you—” She caught sight of Mason across the foyer, pointing his gun right at her. The towel slipped from her hand. “Dio mio! What do you think you are doing with that gun?”

  The gun clicked as he re-engaged the safety before tucking his firearm back into its holster. “I’m doing a routine wellness check,” he explained. “When you didn’t respond, I got worried.”

  Maria’s whole expression darkened. Narrowing her gaze at Mason, she swooped down and picked up the fallen dishtowel. “Lucas,” she snapped before launching into a heated stream of Italian under her breath.

  Mason didn’t correct her. Instead, he went out the open door. When he came back a moment later, he had Tess Sullivan with him.

  “Tessa?” Maria didn’t think she’d be more surprised if Lucas came by and told her he was remarrying Caitlin. When she left Ophelia, Tess was in the kitchen. The room was empty when she got back, so she assumed her guest was already tucked in for the night. “What in the world—”

  “Maria, I’d like to escort Mrs. Sullivan back to her room. Do you think you can shut down the locks for me?”

  Maria looked from Mason to Tessa and back. She didn’t know what to say, or what she should do. On the one hand, Lucas warned her not to let anyone else into the house. He’d been very clear on that point, worried that something might happen to her or Tess.

  But this wasn’t anyone. This was Mason Walsh. He was one of Caity’s deputies. He didn’t count… did he?

  She decided he didn’t. He couldn’t. This was a man she’d known her entire life. The same age as Mason, they’d been together in the same class all through school. He worked with her ex-sister-in-law. His mother had even helped her come up with the name Ophelia for her bed and breakfast, as a nod to the name of their village. Mase was safe. If she couldn’t trust him, who could she trust?

  “No need. It’s only half past eight. I haven’t engaged any of Ophelia’s locks yet.”

  Maria watched as Mason’s gaze flickered to Tessa. Now that she was paying attention to her, Maria noticed that the other woman looked pale, wan, her eyes glassy and tired.

  “Where’s your room, Tess?” Mason asked gently.

  Tess hugged herself. For just one second, she thought about turning tail and running right back out the front door again. She learned from her mistake. No woods this time. But she really, really didn’t want to return to the Lavender Room. When she remembered that the only other option she had was going to stay at the Hamlet Inn again, she begrudgingly started down the hall.

  The locks, she told herself. At least there were locks here.

  Easily keeping pace with her, Mason took hold of Tess’s arm, helping her as she shuffled down the hallway in her muddy slippers. She led him to a closed door with an oversized purple L painted in the center. Standing in front of it, staring at the design with a glazed expression, she made no move to open it.

  Mason did. Grasping the door handle, it turned under his hand. The door eased inward.

  She slumped against him. “It’s not locked anymore,” she whispered. “But I know it was.”

  Mason guided Tessa over to her bed. Once she was settled on the edge, her head in her hands, he did a quick sweep with his gaze. The window was still open, just like she said. Nothing else seemed out of place. Her purse was sitting on the desk. A half-empty glass was on the nightstand. He didn’t see any paper lying anywhere.

  Where was the note?

  He walked around the bed. Picking up the glass, he made sure Tess wasn’t looking back at him before lifting it to his nose. He took a sniff. Water. He hadn’t smelled any alcohol on Tess, either, but after the way
they met, it was worth checking.

  After setting the glass back down, he lowered himself to his hands and knees, peering under the bed. It was too dark to see anything. He took his flashlight from its place on his belt, clicked it on and looked. Nothing except a pair of sneakers lying haphazardly on their sides.

  Just in case, he crossed the room and went into the bathroom. A folded towel was perched on the toilet lid. Tessa’s toothbrush was on the side of the sink. It smelled like her in the bathroom, a hint of cinnamon and spice lingering in the air. He breathed in deep, then yanked the shower curtain back to see if anyone was hiding inside the stall.

  Having cleared the bathroom and the shower, he went back in the room. Tess hadn’t moved an inch from where he placed her. Maria, neither.

  She lingered in the doorway, confused and unsure. When she saw him again, she waved him over. “Deputy Walsh, may I speak to you?”

  “Sure.” Mason held up one finger, then turned toward Tess. He couldn't help himself. Crouching down again, he rested one hand possessively on her knee. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

  Even though she kept her face buried in her hands, he saw it when she nodded. Her shoulders were shaking, though she didn’t make a sound. Mason’s heart broke for her. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not in Hamlet.

  He watched her for a second, listening for tears, before rising and joining Maria out in the hall. With a nod, he gestured for her to move further from Tess’s room.

  “Mason, cosa sta succedendo?” Maria rattled off a string of Italian before clutching his arm. “What’s going on? Is she okay?”

  He patted her hand. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Maria De Angelis. She deserved the peace.

  “She’s had a little bit of a fright, but she’ll be fine. It’s nothing like what happened to you,” he added quickly when Maria’s grip tightened. “I have to ask you something, off the record. You didn’t mess with her room, did you? Lock her in earlier tonight, or go in there when she was in the shower?”