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Fine.
Using him as a buffer between her and the rest of the world, Tess let him lead her down another hallway and out the back entrance she would have given anything that morning to know about. Now, though, it simply meant she was that much closer to an exit to get out of the damn hotel.
She didn’t argue as he guided her toward the same cruiser she’d ridden in last night. As he helped her escape from Jack’s room, he explained in a hurried whisper that this was all a formality, that he had to take her down to the station. She accepted that she had no choice. But she didn’t have to be carried there. Once she was outside, she pulled away from him.
He immediately reached out for her again. Tess ducked away, wrapping her arms around her waist.
“No. I’m okay now,” she told him. Her eyes were dry. She felt like she’d cried all the tears she had to shed in that bathroom. Turning, she saw that Deputy Walsh’s uniform was damp from where he’d held her as she sobbed. She winced. And lied again. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
No. “Yes.”
Tess waited until he reluctantly moved away from her before she struggled to find something else to say, something that wouldn’t draw her thoughts back to what she left behind. It was impossible, so she asked, “Who was that?”
Everything that happened in the hours since she found Jack was a blur. It was like someone stuffed cotton inside her skull. She remembered clinging to Mason, and the way he took her into the bathroom so that she didn’t have to stand in sight of her husband’s body. People came and people went but only two things stood out from the haze: fiery red hair and a pair of icy blue eyes.
Mason waited until she buckled herself in and he had taken his seat beside her to say, “I suppose you’re referring to the doctor.” Lucas was a looker, no doubt, but he had hoped that in her grief she hadn’t noticed. “He’s a good guy, I guess. Does his job.”
“The doctor. He’s the man who’s going to…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. She didn’t have to. Mason nodded and she knew. “Okay. Um, what about the woman? The one with the red hair. Is she in charge? I don’t know, she came off as real official but… I— I think I’ve seen her before. How? Is that possible?”
Mason took his time answering her question. “That would be Sheriff De Angelis. She’s the head of law enforcement in Hamlet so you could say she's definitely in charge.”
He draped his arm behind her headrest, turning to look behind them as he backed the cruiser out of its spot. Tess noticed that he left his arm there once they were heading away from the hotel. She scooted closer to the door, leaving a gap between them.
Tess could've sworn she felt his fingers ghosting over her hair. Leaning into the window, she struggled to remember the last two days because it was better than realizing how much he closed the gap.
Her memories were hazy at best.
The alcohol and the shock hadn't helped any. She still didn't think she was wrong. And Mason had purposely avoided the part where she asked how Tess knew the sheriff.
Weird.
She wracked her brain. Looking back, the only two people she met at the station last night were Deputy Walsh and Deputy Collins. The sheriff never stopped in, so it wasn’t there. The niggling doubt managed to shove aside some of her guilt and grief. She clung to it like a lifeline.
Tess was absolutely positive she’d seen that red hair before. And then it hit her.
“The bar. Last night. I remember now. She was dancing and you— Oh.” A dull color spotted her cheeks as the complete show from last night flashed in her memory. Including the way the intoxicated sheriff threw herself into Mason’s arms. “You know her very well.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. It was no use denying it. “You saw that.” He could kick himself for letting Caitlin paw at him last night. “You have to understand—”
“I don’t have to understand anything, Deputy.” Her words spilled out in a rush. The color deepened to a rosy red. “You don’t have to explain to me.”
He wanted to. “The lady at the bar—she’s my boss. I’m just one of her deputies, that’s all. And, yeah, she might get a little... excitable when she’s had some to drink, but she’s the best sheriff we’ve ever had. She won’t rest until we find out what happened to your husband, you can trust me on that.”
Mentioning Jack was like throwing a bucket of ice water over her flaming embarrassment.
Her voice went flat. “So she’s going to be the one questioning me.”
“She has to do her job.” He kept his tone gentle. “We all do.”
“I know.”
Tessa didn’t say another word the rest of the way to the station. Respecting her silence, Mason kept his thoughts to himself. So that she didn’t see him peeking, he stole glances at his quiet passenger every now and then. She looked so small, so utterly breakable. He wanted to take her hand, promise her that she had nothing to worry about it.
But since he didn’t want to lie, he said nothing. Her husband was dead. She might be innocent—at the moment, he was sure that meant precious little to her. And since he couldn’t explain how Jack Sullivan became the first murder victim in Hamlet in Mason’s lifetime, he knew there was plenty for her—and the whole village—to worry over.
As he pulled into the station and cut the engine, he decided to ease one of his own worries. Whatever happened during the interrogation Sheriff De Angelis was sure to put her through, Mason wanted Tess to know one thing.
