Don't Trust Me (Hamlet 1) - Page 12

Someone had to.

When Tess realized that she had not only lost track of time but also of how many shot glasses the waitress had placed before her, she figured it was probably a good idea to make her way back to the hotel.

At least she didn't have to worry about her husband. When Jack knocked out, he was out. Especially after he had his nightly vodka shot. Since he’d been snoring when she left, there was a good chance he hadn’t even noticed she was still gone.

Good. She wasn’t in the mood for another fight tonight. And considering she stayed out way later than she intended, she had a feeling that another fight was exactly what she was going to get.

She bit back her pout. Some romantic getaway. She got tipsy all alone in some strange bar while her husband slept by himself a few miles down the road.

The waitress had dropped the bill off the last time she made her rounds so Tess didn’t have to wait. Squinting at the total, she pulled a handful of bills from her purse and left them under the receipt. Feeling a little sorry for herself and her cracking marriage, she added a healthy tip before slipping out of the booth.

The wild redhead was still at the bar, surrounded by a small circle of men and women that she tried—and failed—not to notice didn’t include the handsome blond man from earlier. The terrible music had only seemed to grow louder, or maybe that was just Tess’s irrational sensitivity to it.

Laughter filtered from their group, too, even more shrill to her ears. She almost wanted to join them but she knew better. The way the redhead’s friend approached her like she was some unique specimen told Tess that this small town didn’t get too many visitors. In the mood she was in, she doubted she’d make a good first impression on anyone.

Out of habit, she checked her cell. Still no service which meant there was no message from Jack. Tossing her useless phone back into her purse, she pulled out her car keys and made her way outside.

The rain had let up some, leaving a musty smell in the air and a chill that had Tess wishing she’d brought her coat. She’d been so anxious to get away from Jack that she hadn’t stopped to grab anything except her purse.

The road behind the bar was all cobblestones. She’d forgotten that. After her ankle turned on her first wrong step, she carefully made her way to her car. It frustrated her to see that the flat had gotten even worse. One whole side of the car seemed to tilt down. She had half a mind to abandon it at the bar. Since that meant walking all the way back to the hotel, she said a quick prayer to the car gods and climbed in.

The car started on the first try. There was a small groan and a grinding screech as the poor flat tire feebly protested. Tess pushed past it. Maybe the vehicle took pity on her, or maybe she should’ve been sleeping long before she decided cars had thoughts and emotions, but though it didn’t seem happy, the damn thing moved.

“Thank you, car gods,” she muttered.

It didn’t take too long before she realized that one of the car gods cursed her.

She’d made it maybe half a mile down the road when her rearview mirror became an angry flash of red and blue lights. The crazy impulse to take off lasted for a single heartbeat before sanity returned and she slowly coasted to the side.

Cursing under her breath, she slumped in her seat, her head thumping against the headrest. In a town that boasted a population of a couple of hundred and probably had two backwater cops, wasn’t it just her luck that she would manage to get pulled over?

Or that the face looming right outside her driver side mirror would belong to a man she had already met?

A brisk knock against her window had her rolling it down. Without the rain-spattered glass separating them, Tess could see that she was right. Closely cropped blond hair, chocolate-colored eyes, and an inviting smile. The pretty boy charmer from the bar. Of course it was.

And of course he was a damn cop.

“Well, hello again,” he drawled. He shook his head, wiping the rain that trickled down his forehead. He never seemed to lose his grin.

She gulped. This was bad. Very, very bad. “Problem, officer?”

“Might be. Remember me? I believe I saw you over at Thirsty’s earlier tonight.”

Fighting the urge to hurl, she nodded. It probably wasn’t a good idea to open her mouth.

“Okay. So, well, that makes it a bit easier then. I know you’ve been out drinking. And now I see you’re behind the wheel. That’s not good. It’s not safe.”

It took her a second to find her voice. “I’m… I’m okay. I’m just going back to the hotel.”

“That’s still a problem, miss. Quite a big one, actually. You see, the Hamlet Inn is a good five miles from here.” She only had a split second to see the flashlight in his hand before he clicked it on and her retinas burned like they'd been seared. Black dots danced before her eyes as he said briskly, “License, please.”

Her heart started to mambo in her chest. Trying desperately not to slur her words, she projected pure innocence as she yanked her driver’s license out of her wallet and handed it over to the cop.

“Tessa Sullivan,” he read. Handing it back, he opened the car door. His grin had slipped into a thin line of duty. “Step out of the vehicle please, miss.”

She climbed out of the car, glad to see that the rain had finally died away. The chill was still in the air, though, and she shivered as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Over here.” The officer directed her to the painted line that split the paved road. “I’m gonna have to ask you to walk that line for me.”

Tags: Jessica Lynch Hamlet Mystery
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