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If Caitlin heard the suspicion lacing his tone, she chose to ignore it. “It’s Mason Walsh. How could he? He’s never stepped foot out of Hamlet. Come on, Luc. The kid’s got some white knight in shining armor complex. She’s the damsel in distress that he has to save. It’s nothing.”
“Is that so?”
She snorted. “Yeah. Trust me. I’ve known the kid his whole life. It’s not in him to leave Hamlet, but he’s always had stars in his eyes. He’s too used to the girls in town. He figures his only shot at love will come with some outsider.”
Lucas thought it was interesting how Caitlin kept calling Walsh a kid, like he wasn’t only a couple of years younger than her. He didn’t think she was even aware she was doing it. But he didn’t buy into the deputy’s act. It wasn’t just about being some shocked grieving widow’s hero, or finding true love. She was attractive and she was available. Not to mention, she was a slice of life from outside of Hamlet. He was willing to put money down that even with Jack Sullivan still breathing, Walsh would’ve made a play for her eventually.
“I don’t know. That poor woman is married and he’s sniffing around her like a dog in heat.”
Caitlin pointed at him. “She was married. I remember you saying vows once upon a time. ‘Til death—or divorce—do you part, right? She’s as single as I am. Kid sees an opportunity and he’s running with it. I don’t blame him.”
Lucas raised his eyebrow. “Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate? He’s one of your deputies, Cait.”
“So? She doesn’t seem to mind.” She paused, then added casually, “He’s asked me if he could offer her one of the spare rooms in his place while she’s staying here.”
The snort was out before he could stop himself. “I don’t think so.”
She felt her hackles rise. Lucas could never fool her—she knew he’d been playing it too cool before, too disinterested. That snort was proof. She’d hit a nerve with him. “Why not?” she shot back.
Why not? He goggled at her. “Because I think that’s definitely inappropriate, don’t you?”
Caitlin didn’t blink as she returned his stare. She did, however, narrow her eyes dangerously at him. He could almost see the gears of her wayward mind spinning. When she tensed then slammed her coffee thermos on the slab, dots of her spilled drink landing on the dead man’s arm, Lucas braced himself for what was coming.
“I know what this is about. Why you keep bringing up this outsider. Why you’re standing there with that disapproving look on your face at the thought that Mason wants to take her in for the night.”
He crossed his arms over his lab coat, careful not to touch any of the miscellaneous fluids on it. “Okay. This I got to hear. C’mon, Caity. I’ll bite. Why?”
“You have a thing for her. That Tessa. That’s why you don’t want Mase chasing after her. Now that her husband’s dead, you want her to throw you a bone.”
And this, Lucas thought, was precisely why he couldn’t stand being married to such a jealous shrew. Try to remind the sheriff that her deputies should have some boundaries with a civilian and, suddenly, he was panting after Sullivan’s wife himself. She was being ridiculous and, despite her many insistences to the contrary, she would never change.
“Caity. Caitlin. Listen to yourself. I don’t know that woman. I haven’t even said one word to her. Did you ever think that I feel sorry for her? She’s been in our village for one day. Her husband was murdered and if you—the sheriff, damn it—aren’t already trying to marry her off to one of your deputies, it’s because you’re accusing your ex-husband of taking advantage of the poor thing.”
His words were calm, his actions measured. Pointedly breaking eye contact with her, he grabbed the towel from its place by the sink. After wiping the spilled coffee off of the corpse, he picked up Caitlin’s thermos, placed it gently into her empty hand and headed for the closed door.
She found her voice just as he opened it. “Don’t walk away from me, Lucas. Don’t you dare.”
“I’m not walking away from you. I just refuse to continue this pointless conversation while standing over a murder victim’s remains.” He held the door open, gesturing for her to join him out in the hall. “If you want, we can finish this in my office.”
Shoving past him, she spat out, “I know the way.”
As she stalked ahead, Lucas lingered in the morgue’s doorway and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, prayed for just one drop of patience, and then followed the sound of her clomping boots.
She cornered him as he tried to slip by her into his office. Grabbing his sleeve, she tugged until he was looking down at her. “Okay, okay. I don’t know where that came from.” She let go of his sleeve, shrugging helplessly. “We’re not married anymore. I know that. I’m not supposed to get jealous.”
“That wasn’t jealousy, Caity, it was momentary insanity. Ever since I left the inn, all I’ve worried about is your case. The most important thing right now is finding out who killed Jack Sullivan. Not who’s next in line for his wife.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been running all morning, checking out the crime scene, talking to everyone who worked the night shift in and around Bonnie’s inn. No one saw anything, Luc.” This time she made sure the lid on her thermos was screwed on tight before she dropped it onto the edge of Lucas’s desk. Frustration made her run her trembling hand through her hair. “I’ve got nothing so far. Tessa Sullivan is my only lead. I’ve gotta keep her here. She won’t stay at Bonnie’s. I know better than to agree with Mason, but what else am I supposed to do?”
His annoyance at Caitlin faded away as she turned imploring
ly to him. She always looked at him that way, like he would have the answer to any question she had. First, when they were married, then later, when they had to work side-by-side as Hamlet’s sheriff and its makeshift ME.
At least, this time, her faith in him was founded. He actually had an answer for her. Taking a seat at his desk, he said one word: “Ophelia.”
It was obvious from the way she seemed to deflate that she had no clue what he meant. “What?”
“Ophelia,” he repeated. “She can stay there.”
