She had no clue who it could be. Lucas wouldn’t wait on the porch. Mason—her stomach twisted in guilt. It couldn’t be him. She hardly met anyone else in Hamlet, secluded as she had been since the night Jack died.
Maria had been shooing nosy neighbors away for days, using the time to process and grieve and, well, sleep all the tragedy away. Whether she meant to or not, she kept them all away from the outsider who brought death into their small community. There was no way she would let someone in to see Tessa without vouching for them first.
Caitlin’s murder hit her hard. Though her brother divorced Caitlin years ago, Maria still thought of the sheriff as her sister-in-law. Seeing her get killed had broken something in the upbeat, positive woman. Even worse, knowing that her childhood friend was responsible for pulling the trigger. Tessa didn’t blame her for coping this way. Some people drowned their sorrows in hot showers. Others slept the pain away.
Curiosity got the better of her. That, and boredom. The Lavender Room might be beautiful, but it seemed more like the holding cell in the sheriff’s station as another day passed.
Tess nearly tripped over her half-packed duffel in her haste to dash over to the intercom. “That would be great. If you don't mind, let them in.”
She couldn’t deny the butterflies in her belly as she waited for the inevitable knock. Except for infrequent meals and whenever Lucas stopped by, she stayed locked inside. With Mason behind bars, she knew the threat was gone. That didn’t make it any easier.
Maria no doubt understood. Why else would she suggest sending an unknown man down to the Lavender Room?
The knock, when it came, was assertive and brisk. Bang. Bang. Tessa took a deep, calming breath and, with a hint of a smile, opened the door.
Sylvester Collins was standing on the other side. He had his hat in his hand, his closely shaved head gleaming like a billiard ball. Standing straight and tall, his eyes dark and alert, she could almost ignore the tired frown lines bracketing his severe mouth or the bags under his eyes so deep, she could use them to pack the rest of her clothes.
She felt another twinge of sympathy. Just like Mason, Collins didn’t look like he had slept at all since the sheriff was killed.
“Mrs. Sullivan. A moment of your time?”
“Deputy Collins.” She was surprised to see him standing there and didn’t even try to hide it. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
“Afternoon, ma’am.” He jerked his chin at the pile of clothing on the bed, at the open duffel. “I heard you were looking to leave. Seems that’s the case.”
Tess couldn’t imagine where in the world he could have heard that. The only person she had told was Maria and that was only because she thought it fair to settle up with her when she finally checked out of Ophelia. She supposed Maria told him.
It didn’t matter. The speed with which any news traveled the cobbled roads of Hamlet no longer surprised her.
She nodded. “Yes. I was wondering if I could go. With everything that happened, I didn’t know who to ask.”
Collins blinked. “I guess that would be me. It’s just me and Willie left now, with Rick Hart helping out here and there. We’ll have to get a new sheriff eventually but…”
“I’m so sorry.” More than she could ever say.
“Can’t be helped, but thank you kindly. You’ve had your share of loss, too. These have been some dark days here. I don’t blame you for wanting to go. The sooner, the better, I’d wager. That would be best for all of us.”
She didn’t think he meant to do it on purpose. That didn’t stop Tess from feeling like she was crumbling under the weight of the mountain of guilt on her shoulders. Her bottom lip trembled. “I just want to go home.”
“That’s why I’ve come. You’re free to go whenever you wish it. In fact, I wanted to let you know that your car is waiting for you down at the station. Seems Mason arranged for the tire to be fixed before… well, you know.” Collins pressed his hat to his chest. His features softened as he looked down on her. “I feel like I should apologize.”
A lump formed in Tess’s throat. “You don’t have to do that—”
“Please,” Collins said, holding out his free hand. “Hear me out. You came here for help and one of our own stole so much from you. That’s not who we are. That’s not what Hamlet is.”
She gulped. With a shaky smile, she said, “Hamlet helps?”
“We will continue our best to do so. In your husband’s memory. In Caity’s.” He took his hat, put it back on his head. Reaching into his pocket, Collins pulled out a very familiar set of keys. He handed them to her. “You go on, get home safe. The car’s ready to go whenever you are. Don’t worry about Mason. He’ll pay for what he did.”
She took the keys from him, cradling them to her chest. “I appreciate you telling me that, Deputy. Thank you.”
“You’re a good lady. For an outsider.”
She was touched. The fact that his blunt words affected her that way told Tess one very important fact: it was time to get the hell out of Hamlet.
There was one person she wanted to see before she left.
Before Deputy Collins called in with the report that Mason was arrested, they spent those two tension-filled days together in Ophelia. Maria slept most of the ti