Don't Trust Me (Hamlet 1) - Page 41

Once she had a clear enough shot to the window, Tess said a silent prayer and tugged.

“Yes!”

The window slid right up. It wasn’t part of the lockdown. No screen, either. She took one quick look to gauge the distance between the window and the front porch, decided it was worth the risk of twisting her ankle, and clambered out of the window. She landed with a soft cry, falling forward on her palms, only to pop back up a heartbeat later.

Run. She had to run.

Pure instinct drove her. She headed straight down the steps, her path taking her to the street that stretched in front of Ophelia. Except, just as she took the last step, she heard the same damn rev and hum of the car that haunted her all last night. She wasn’t thinking as a clear-headed, intelligent individual; at that moment, she was a cornered animal, more likely to lash out than accept aid.

Fear made her reckless, stupid. Even as she knew there was a good chance it was a cop turning onto the street, she threw up her hands to block the headlights shining in her face before turning around and sprinting away in the opposite direction.

The nearest house was more than twenty feet away. Tess didn’t even think to go there for help. Instead, she ran behind Maria’s bed and breakfast. A copse of trees bordered Ophelia’s backyard. No one would ever think she’d purposely take to the woods.

It was dark, a sudden chill in the air that warned of another incoming storm, and she was wearing a thin t-shirt and loose sweatpants. She had slippers on, so she wasn’t ruining the bottoms of her feet as she stumbled over rocks and sticks and tangled weeds. She still had to slow her pace more than once to keep from losing one of her shoes.

Tess was lost the instant she entered the trees. She never had any reliable sense of direction. Add that to the dark night and the fear that led her to run into the woods in the first place, and she knew that there was no way she was getting out again without some help. What she thought was a small gathering of trees proved to be far more vast than the single peek out of Ophelia’s kitchen had led her to believe.

Once she realized that she had no idea where she was, she stopped running. Her breath came in big gulps as she struggled to get in enough air. Every time she tried, she wheezed, as the air whooshed out again before she managed to swallow it. Her heart raced and her pulse thundered. With her hand clutching a stitch in her side, Tess tried to straighten but froze suddenly in a hunched position when she heard the snapping of a stick not too far from where she was.

She let out a soft moan as the snapped stick was soon joined by another. The thud of heavy footsteps matched the thud of her heart as she realized her fatalistic mistake. So worried about the threat left on a piece of paper, she listened and ran. The person who wrote the note didn’t have to do anything. In her panicked flight away from trouble, she might’ve killed herself anyway.

Who was out there? What was out there?

An animal?

Worse?

Tess squinted, desperate to see. No good. Her eyes hadn't adjusted enough; she was basically blind. Leaning down, she scraped her hands across the earth, searching for something she could use as a weapon. Her fingers mashed into the side of a heavy rock. Smaller than a bowling ball yet twice as heavy, she hefted it up in her arms, prepared to bash someone’s head in if she had to.

“Mrs. Sullivan? Tessa? Is that you? Are you out here?”

Relief made her weak. She dropped the rock, barely missing the toe of her slipper. “Deputy? I’m over here.”

The footsteps stopped. There was a click as he turned his flashlight on. The bright yellow beam made her eyes shutter. She lifted her hand to her face, shielding her gaze as she searched for Mason. Once she found him, standing there in his uniform, radio in one hand and flashlight in the other, she flung herself at him. He could’ve been an ax murderer after her and, right then, she would have clung tightly to him like a barnacle. She wasn't alone anymore.

Mason opened his arms at the last second. As soon as she was pressed up against his chest, he held her close, rubbing his forearm up and down her back in a comforting gesture. “My god, I thought it was you. What are you doing out here?”

She could ask him the same thing. How did he know to find her? Did he follow her from the cruiser? Or was he waiting for her to do something so stupid as take off into the woods after dark?

Did he know about the note?

Did he send it?

Her heart continued to beat so fast, she thought it was trying to escape. Suddenly, that seemed like a good idea to Tess. “I… I have to go.”

He tightened his arms around her. “Tess, wait—”

“No!” Tess’s head was spinning. Panicking, terrified, she had to make him understand. Because, if he wasn't responsible for the threat, someone was. She shoved against his chest. “Listen, there was this note, right? I have to go… it said—”

Hands clammy, pulse racing, her stomach finally rebelled. Pulling far away from the deputy, she covered her mouth with her hands, speaking through muddy fingers. “Move!”

Mason blinked, lowering the flashlight. In its reflection, her eyes looked wild, afraid. She was scaring him now. “Tess, what—?”

He moved closer to her. Tess shoved him away again the instant before she dropped to her knees in the dirt. Her queasy stomach pitched, she fell forward on her hands and heaved.

Crouching down beside her, Mason rubbed her back in soothing circles. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Her skin crawled. Wiping her mouth with the back of her filthy hand, she rested on her knees. The deputy was trying to be helpful. She knew that. It wasn’t his fault she was running scared. And that was the only reason why she didn’t push his outstretched hand away when he crouched in front of her and offered to help her up.

Tags: Jessica Lynch Hamlet Mystery
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