?m right. The inn is the only place we have in Hamlet for outsiders. I can’t let her leave. Not yet. She's the best lead I got. And I doubt she’ll want to stay in the cells since someone keeps insisting she’s innocent.”
With his eyes darting back to the room where he left the weeping woman, Mason didn’t know that the sheriff was talking about him until she jabbed him in the side with her elbow.
“What? Wait— that again, Sheriff? I already told you. There’s no way Tess could’ve killed her husband. She was locked up tight in the holding cells all night, first with me watching and then with Sly. No way she could’ve done it.”
“Locked up?” Lucas echoed. It seemed there was way more to this than he first thought. And it was suddenly even clearer that the poor widow had nothing to do with her husband’s murder. Kind of hard to strangle a man when she was behind bars for whatever reason.
“Tess?” Caitlin said at the same time. Her comment was more of a sneer. Partly because of how chummy her deputy was becoming with her witness, but mostly because it burned to know that her theory was already full of so many holes, it was basically Swiss cheese.
Mason had the decency to flush. “Mrs. Sullivan. There was an incident outside of Thirsty’s last night. I had it under control.”
Caitlin scowled. “Is that where you found her? The bar?”
“It’s where I saw you, too,” Mason reminded Caitlin.
Lucas wasn’t even the least bit surprised to hear that. From the way Caitlin straightened, drawing herself up to her full height though the deputy still dwarfed her, Lucas bet she never expected Walsh to throw that back in her face.
“What I do when I'm off duty is my business, Deputy, and I'll thank you to remember that when we're on. Besides, I managed to refrain from getting carted off to the holding cells, so I was better off than Sullivan’s wife.”
Walsh was walking a razor thin line. Lucas watched their match like the interested spectator he was. Caity’s color was up, her cheeks nearly the same shade as her hair. He thought about warning the younger man before deciding against it. The deputy had to learn sooner or later. Might as well get some entertainment out of it since, for once, Caitlin wasn't fighting with him.
Mason gulped, his Adam’s apple quivering as he set his jaw. “That's true, boss. Think about it. You had plenty of friends around to keep you from getting into trouble, including me, Willie and Sly. Poor Mrs. Sullivan didn’t have anyone but me last night. Now her husband’s been taken from her. Here. In Hamlet.”
“I'm aware of that. Doesn't change a thing. We still have a job to do.”
“I’m trying to do right by our vic’s wife. You might want to treat her like a criminal, Sheriff. I don’t.”
“Okay. That's it. Stand down, Deputy.” Mason immediately began another retort. Having had enough at last, Caitlin tore off her sunglasses and silenced him with one firm look. Because her team was so small and close, she tended to let her deputies get away with a lot. Sometimes she had to remind them who was in charge. “Go to the station. Bring the witness there and leave her in Wilhelmina’s custody. I want to question her myself. Then—and only if I’m satisfied in her responses—we’ll discuss the witness’s relocation. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but—”
She wasn’t done. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll buzz Sly to join me here, then I’ll tackle the wit. You’ve been on duty for more than sixteen hours. It's made you twitchy, Mase. Take a few hours down now.”
“Boss—”
“Those are your orders. Go.”
Mason swallowed roughly. “Yes, Sheriff.”
He wanted to continue to argue. That much was obvious. He didn’t, though. When she got like this, no one disobeyed Caitlin De Angelis—except, perhaps, Lucas. However, the doctor happened to agree with Caitlin. Tessa Sullivan was the best lead that the sheriff had. She had to keep her close.
Mason disappeared into the bathroom without another word. As Lucas gathered up his medical bag, he could just make out the deputy’s muffled voice as he explained what was going to happen next. Silence followed. Either Mrs. Sullivan accepted what he said, or she spoke too softly for it to carry into the hotel room.
This time, when the bathroom door opened again, the woman exited first.
She took him completely by surprise.
If Caitlin hadn’t told him that Tessa Sullivan was in her mid-twenties, he would’ve put her much closer to her late teens. She was small-boned and slender-framed, lost in a hooded sweatshirt that was two sizes too big. Her light brown hair fell in waves to her shoulder. It stuck up in tufts from where she pulled at it in her grief.
The deputy fell in step behind her, close enough to catch her if she stumbled. Lucas didn’t quite understand the fervor with which he defended this woman to Caitlin before but, watching as she moved zombie-like across the room, he got it now. Mrs. Sullivan, her size and demeanor, clearly inspired protective feelings in others. Hell, he had to fight the urge himself to scoop her up in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be fine.
Caitlin flipped her notepad closed, tucked the pad in the back pocket of her uniform pants. She slipped her pen behind her ear, losing it almost immediately in the red tangle, then hooked her sunglasses on the front pocket of her uniform shirt. Her hands free, she met Mason and Tessa in the middle of the room.
She didn't offer to shake hands, or any other sort of greeting. No surprise there, either. The woman was only an outsider, and one who had brought trouble to Hamlet. In Caitlin’s opinion, Mrs. Sullivan was lucky not to be locked up again.
“Deputy Walsh is going to bring you back to the station. I know this is a very inconvenient time for you, Mrs. Sullivan, but the first forty-eight hours in any homicide are crucial. Anything you can tell me, anything you might remember, it could make a difference in catching your husband’s killer.”
The poor thing flinched, her hand flying up to muffle her sob.