Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.
She had a pretty good guess what he wanted the personal for.
“We have a murderer out there in our village. Anyone could be the next victim. You haven't forgotten that, have you, Deputy?”
Tap, tap, tap.
“No, ma’am.”
“Didn't think so.” She leaned back in her chair, sipping the coffee Mason brought her. “We’re all on duty until further notice. No approved personal. Doesn't mean you can't get some sleep. When I get back from town, I'll buzz you and you can take a couple more hours down. I mean it this time. Take them. You look like hell, Mase. Rest. Take the time when you can.”
He ran his hand over his stubble. It felt thicker. “I will.”
“Good. I’m gonna need you patrolling again tonight, trading off with Sly. These hours are a killer, yeah, but that's because we're trying to beat a killer. We can't let her win.”
Her. It might have been a slip. He doubted that very much. Caitlin still believed Tessa was involved in her husband’s death. Wonderful. More than ever, Mason thought he made the right decision in keeping the threatening note from the sheriff. She would only find some way to pin it on Tess.
Tess didn't deserve that. Caitlin wasn't there. She hadn't seen how badly shook Tess was. He was a deputy, more than eight years under his belt on the job. If that woman was faking, he'd turn in his gun and his badge.
He itched to get back to her, to make sure she was okay. And he hated the idea that the doc might manage to do so before he could.
No approved personal. He got that. But what about—
Mason cleared his threat. “Sheriff, I was just wondering. Tomorrow night is my scheduled off time—”
“There is no scheduled off time either when we have an open investigation. You know that. No pretty face or sob story should turn your head so much that you forget who you are and what you've sworn to do. Hamlet is your home, Deputy. And it's your priority.”
Mason took her slap at him with a wince and a gulp before he straightened, his hands folded behind his back.
“You're right, Sheriff. I'm sorry. Forget I brought it up.”
Caitlin studied her deputy, ramrod straight as he stood at attention. Lord help her, she could almost swear she saw the little hearts fluttering over his head. Mason had it bad. As much as she hated to admit it, there was a slight chance Sullivan's wife was innocent. If she ended up proving it, what did it hurt to let Mason work this little crush out of his system?
And, she realized, if the outsider hooked up with Mason, that left Lucas wide open for her.
“Okay. Fine.” She threw her hands up in the air, making a show of giving in. “Take tomorrow night for yourself. Just make sure to keep your radio on in case I need you.”
“I always do,” he promised. Then, deciding to make his escape before she changed her mind, he added, “Good luck with the internet.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Mason started to back out of the office, remembered Caitlin’s muttered her, and hesitated. He'd hate himself if he didn't at least try again to intervene. “Hey, Sheriff? Quick question. You don't still think that Tess killed her husband, do you?”
Tess again, Caitlin thought. Someone ought to warn the kid not to wear his heart on his sleeve. It was a dangerous place to keep it. She knew that better than anyone. Lucas broke hers so many times over the years, all she had left was shards.
She drank her coffee, taking a second to compose herself so that she didn't snap out her answer—or a warning.
“Mase, I have to follow that lead all the way to the end.”
“But… why?”
“Because once I'm done looking at Tessa Sullivan, I’ll have to start looking for one of us.”
On the way to his office that morning, Lucas purposely made a right instead of a left when he hit the main fork in the road. He was supposed to go to work. He didn't. His Mustang brought him back to Ophelia instead.
Talk about deja vu. As he let himself into his sister’s house, he flashed back to the night before. It had spooked him to get a buzz from Maria so late, and he almost lost it when she admitted that someone had snuck into the B&B last night to terrorize her guest. The only thing that kept him from insisting she shut Ophelia down again was that Maria hadn’t been in any danger—and, if she had been, she still slept with her trusty bat un
derneath her bed.