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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?”
If he didn’t want to upset Maria, he failed miserably.
“What? No!” She looked horrified at the accusation. “I honor my guests so long as they respect me and my rules. Why would you even ask me that?”
Because his inexplicable yet undeniable attraction to that pretty little outsider made him do stupid, stupid things. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he ducked his head in a bid to avoid her insulted glare. “Ah, jeez, Maria. I’m a deputy. I had to ask, even if I knew you had nothing to do with it.”
“With what? Dimmi! What’s going on? I go out for groceries and, when I come back, Mason Walsh is aiming a gun in my Ophelia. I don’t understand.”
Mason hesitated. Never one to gossip, he wasn’t sure that it was his place to tell Maria about what happened to Tess. An instant later, he corrected himself. He had to tell her. As deputy, it was his responsibility to make sure that everyone in Hamlet was safe. One outsider was already dead, and another threatened. Who's to say that the culprit would stop at outsiders?
Keeping his voice low, he quickly explained to Maria the events of the evening, starting with the locked door and ending with the fact that the threatening note was now missing.
He made the right choice in telling her. Instead of being angry and hurt, Maria was concerned. Not, like he sort of expected, for herself. She was worried about her guest.
