The throb in her cheeks was an inescapable reminder that she was attacked.
Even as she cowered on the floor of the foyer, Maria admitted to herself that there probably wouldn’t be a need for her to tell. Not only would her brother handle that for her, there was no doubt that news of the assault would get around eventually.
It always did.
Knock, knock.
Maria’s heart skipped a beat.
Someone was at the door.
It felt like seconds, it felt like years but it sure didn’t feel like enough time for Lucas to speed across town. He was a demon in his Mustang, always flying down Hamlet’s narrow streets. Even that car couldn’t go that fast, though.
So who was it?
“Who’s there?” The words were hoarse, a mere whisper. Choking up on her bat, she pulled herself up to her knees and turned so that she was facing the door. Maria cleared her throat. “Who’s out there? Dimmi!”
“Deputy Collins, miss. Sheriff De Angelis sent me.”
“There’s no deputy named Collins,” Maria shot back.
“I’m new.”
There was no one new in Hamlet. The only outsider she heard of was—she swallowed so roughly, it felt like a rock jagged its way down her throat. Turner.
No. Never again.
“Lucas, my brother… when he gets here, I’ll see about letting you into Ophelia. Until then, you wait.”
“I’m here to do my job, miss. Sheriff De Angelis sent me to clear the residence and make sure you were doing alright until she arrived. I’ve already checked the perimeter. I need to do the inside and I can’t do that from the porch.”
It didn’t matter that he knew Caitlin. Anyone who spent more than five minutes in Hamlet would learn about the sheriff in one way or another.
Something niggled in the back of her head. Hadn’t she heard something about a new deputy?
Wait—
“What’s your first name?” she demanded.
“Sylvester. I’ve only been on the job in Hamlet for a week or two, but you can trust me. Now let me in.”
It was hard to think. Her head was pounding. Sylvester? That wasn’t familiar. Was it?
He didn’t have an accent, not like he had. Sylvester’s voice was smooth as silk, as rich as chocolate. It was calming. Soothing. She let it wrap around her, almost like a warm blanket that kept her from shivering.
When a few moments passed and Maria made no move to open the door for him, she heard the deputy pace around the front porch. The heavy thud of his boots, the jangle of the handcuffs he’d have at his belt.
“My name’s Sylvester,” he said again, “but my buddies call me Sly. You can, too, if you’d like, miss. Say, you might even know a buddy of mine. We served together on the outside. Rick Hart?”
That was a name she knew. A few years older than her, Ricky Hart ran with Lucas and Caitlin’s crowd when he was a kid. He was also one of the only people that she knew who left Hamlet. Right after graduation, he ran off to become a hero, joining the Marines.
He came back about a year ago. And he came back… different. But he was still Ricky.
Maria might not trust this Sly. She did trust Ricky Hart. And if Caitlin took on Ricky’s old Marine buddy as one of her treasured deputies, then that meant the sheriff vouched for him, too.
That was good enough for her.
“Va bene. Okay. Give me a minute.”