Don't Trust Me (Hamlet 1) - Page 17

What was she thinking? She knew better than to do something so reckless. So stupid. The deputy had let her off way too easily. Tess was aware she deserved more than a chaperone and a night in the holding cells. The lecture she was sure to get was going to suck, no doubt. She couldn’t deny that she’d earned it, though.

It took her a minute to find her luggage. Jack must have gotten up and moved their duffel bags sometime last nig

ht. She remembered tossing it back onto the armchair. After tiptoeing around the darkened room, searching, she finally found the two bags stacked one on top of the other underneath the window. Picking up her bag, she purposely left the curtain alone. No reason to face the light of day just yet.

Tess locked herself in the bathroom. Avoiding her reflection, she quickly stripped out of her rumpled clothes and jumped into the shower. The first spray of the hot water in her face made her groan. The knots in her back relaxed as she turned and let the water beat down on her. By the time the hot water had cooled down to lukewarm, she was starting to feel back to normal.

To her surprise, the towels hanging in the inn’s bathroom were fluffy and luxuriant. She was used to staying at hotel chains where the guest towels were one step up from toilet paper. The oversized towel she wrapped herself in felt like she was being swaddled in a cloud, it was that soft.

If she thought she could get away with it, she’d hide one of them in her duffel bag before they checked out. Except, she admitted, that wouldn’t be very helpful. So, with Deputy Collins’s solemn voice still running through her head, she reluctantly hung the towel back up when she was dry.

She didn’t know how long she hid in the bathroom. She did, however, admit that she was stalling. Since they would be heading back out on the road soon, she threw on a comfy pair of jeans, a tank top and her favorite hoodie. It had the name of her alma mater on it and, though she graduated more than three years ago, she liked to wear it whenever she had the chance. Slipping on her sneakers, she mentally prepared herself to face her husband.

Tess opened the bathroom door. “Honey,” she called out, “you awake?”

Nothing.

Okay. That was weird. She’d expected the shower to rouse him. Now that he was still sleeping, she didn’t know what to do. Glancing around the bathroom, her eyes fell on the hairdryer resting on the top shelf of the towel rack. She grabbed a chunk of her damp hair, letting the strands slide through her fingers.

Plugging the hairdryer into the outlet, Tess let her lips curve slightly for the first time since yesterday.

Back home, he always complained that it was impossible for him to sleep when she was drying her hair. The blow dryer the hotel provided was so loud, it sounded like there was a small airplane in the bathroom with her. There was no way he could sleep through that.

Except he had.

When she finished fluffing her hair, brushing the light brown waves out, she placed the dryer on the side of the sink before gathering all of her belongings together. She stepped back into the room, expecting to find Jack waiting with his eyes open.

Nope. As if she hadn’t made a peep at all, he was lying beneath the covers. Quiet. Unmoving.

Throwing her duffel bag on the floor then tossing her brush angrily on top of it, she scowled at the lump on the bed. “Come off it, Jack. Stop fooling. I know you’ve got to be pissed, but pretending to sleep isn’t going to work.”

His silence was the only answer she received.

That made her furious. He always did this. Either he shot down her arguments, or he acted like she didn’t have any at all. And, yes, she knew that she was the only one to blame for what happened, but she’d spent the whole morning and most of her shower trying to figure out how she was going to explain her actions to her husband.

And now that she was ready? He didn’t want to hear any of it.

Uh-uh. No way.

Tess stormed over to the bed, snatching the blanket off of him. He was lying on his stomach, his face turned away from her.

“Jack!” she snapped, slapping him on his back to get his attention. “Are you listening to me?”

The instant she touched him, she knew. His body was stiff. Cold. He wasn’t moving. She knew. In the pit of her stomach, where panic sparked and bloomed before overwhelming any common sense she had left, Tessa fucking knew.

That didn’t stop her from what she did next. Nothing could.

His name stuck in her throat. “Jack.” It came out like a whisper, a soft rasp strangled by her feverish breath. Her hands started to shake. She didn’t look. She couldn’t look. Breathe in, breathe out. She was the only one making any noise. He was still. Too damn still.

She grabbed at her husband, yanking on his shirt, pushing him. He didn’t move. Terror coursed through her veins, cold and terrible, and she heard someone chanting no, no, no before realizing the anguished squeal was coming from her.

She never knew where she got the strength from. Half his size and admittedly a weakling, Tess hefted Jack until his body flopped from his front to his back. His eyes—and his tongue—the blue lips. The waxy, white skin. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, horror and shock and devastation crashing over her like a wave. It threatened to drag her under, drown her, leave her battered and broken against the shore. Without even giving her body the order to move, she took one step closer to the bed.

And that’s when she saw the noose tied tightly around his neck. She blinked. Stared. Then, as loud as she possibly could, she started to scream.

6

Lucas De Angelis was dreading this call.

Tags: Jessica Lynch Hamlet Mystery
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