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As devoted to her bed and breakfast as she was, Mason should’ve realized that.
Maria shook her head royally, her long dark hair cascading down her back. “That’s awful! She’s such a sweetheart. She doesn’t deserve someone upsetting her like that, especially not in my Ophelia. Is there anything I can do for her?”
Mason had been thinking the same thing ever since he had to help her find her way out of the woods. He almost offered to take Tess back home with him but even he realized that taking advantage of her after her scare would be kind of sleazy. Having her stay with Maria was the best thing for her, especially since the sheriff was still harping on her being the only suspect in Sullivan’s murder. He dreaded what Caitlin would say when she found out about this twist in the case.
No, he needed to keep his distance as best he could. Didn’t mean that he couldn’t still take care of Tess.
“She needs a good night’s sleep. I don’t know if she’ll manage it on her own. You wouldn't happen to have anything that might help her relax, would you? Like a sleeping pill?”
Maria pursed her lips, thinking. She shook her head. “All I have is aspirin. But I know where I can get something.”
Mason immediately knew he made a mistake. “Ah, no. I don’t want to bother—”
“Hush, Mase,” Maria said, swatting him in the arm. “Luc is up all hours of the night. Come. I’ll get my radio. He’s used to weird buzzes, especially from me. He won’t mind.”
Yes, but Mason might.
He took two steps after her, prepared to tell her that he changed his mind, before he realized that he was just being selfish. As much as he wanted to keep Tessa to himself, he couldn’t deny her something that might help her. It wasn’t her fault that the only one who could offer her a peaceful sleep was Lucas. And it made complete sense that Maria’s response to his request was to call on her brother. He was the only doctor in town and, since Hamlet didn’t have a real pharmacy, he was in control of any and all medications. Tess needed a sleeping pill? Lucas would have one.
Damn it.
Maria returned a few moments later, her radio in one hand, a wooden Louisville Slugger clutched tightly in the other. She beamed over at Mason. “I got Luc on the radio. He says he’s gonna stop at his office first for the medicine and then he’ll be right over.”
“That’s great.” It wasn’t great. If Tessa needed someone to save her, he wanted it to be him, not the doctor. Since he couldn’t tell Maria that, he focused on something else instead. He pointed at the bat. “Going out for some batting practice?”
She hefted the bat up, a wicked and fierce glimmer in her pale eyes. “If someone else thinks they can sneak around Ophelia, then si. Most definitely.”
15
Mason rubbed his jaw, stifling a yawn. Stubble pricked the tips of his fingers. It had been a long night. Once the sheriff gave him the all clear to go off duty, he'd have to make sure he shaved before he went to see Tessa again.
The sun was up by the time his rounds brought him back to the station house. He was feeling it. In the years that he'd been a deputy, Mason worked his fair share of overnight patrols but never so many shifts back to back. His eyes were dry, itchy, like he got sand in them. The yawns kept coming. He fought to hold them back. Sheriff De Angelis ordered him to take short breaks for rest. He was the idiot who kept cutting them even shorter.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee slapped him awake as he dragged himself into the station. It was empty, though that didn't mean he was the only one there. Since station coffee couldn't brew itself, he knew somebody had to be nearby. After helping himself to a styrofoam cup of the stuff, only pausing to splash some milk in to cool it down, he went off in search of whoever was on duty with him so early.
Bang.
Crash.
The slow, steady whine of a dying beep.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Mason’s lips curved around the rim of his cup. Caitlin. Of course. He should have known. The woman was like a robot. She'd been going nonstop since they found Jack Sullivan’s body, living on coffee and a steely determination to solve the outsider’s murder in record time.
He thought about it for a second, realized that her cussing while on duty meant she was real riled up, and went to prepare a second cup of coffee. Mood she was in, he might need a peace offering. Then, a cup in each hand, he crossed the station.
The main station house was a wide open floor, with two desks, a handful of visitor’s chairs, a fridge and a set-up to the side for the department’s microwave and coffee pot. Hamlet’s single holding cell was toward the back. Off to the right, there were two doors. One was the bathroom. The other, a closed-in office that the sheriff rarely used.
It was that room where Caitlin had brought Tessa to do her interviews on Sunday. And it was that room where Caitlin’s angry cry had just come from.
He knocked with his elbow, then carefully let himself in.
“Morning, Sheriff. I brought you some coffee.”
She already had an empty styrofoam cup on her desk. He placed his offering next to it in time to dodge Caitlin’s arm as she reared back and swung her open palm right at the side of her ancient desktop monitor.
Thwack!
