Harbour Falls (A Harbour Falls Mystery #1)

by S. R. Grey

  I was pretty certain Adam would be hungry as well, so I decided to make some pasta and a salad. I put water on to boil and took some vegetables out of the refrigerator, all the while trying to be as quiet as possible. Unfortunately I dropped a wooden bowl as I was setting the table, and minutes later a disheveled Adam appeared in the doorway. Sleepy and tousled but still one fine-looking man.

  “Hungry?” I asked, holding up a head of lettuce and a tomato.

  Adam stretched, and my eyes were drawn to the way the fabric of his shirt pulled taut over his well-muscled torso. “Starving,” he replied, yawning.

  He chuckled when he caught me staring at his body, so I quickly looked away and said, “It won’t be long if you want to have a seat.”

  Adam pulled out a chair and sat down, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.

  I could not think of a single thing for him to do—other than just sit there and continue to look incredible—so I went with, “No, I think I have it. But thanks for offering.”

  Soon the pasta was ready, so I drained the softened noodles, scooped some onto each of our plates, and ladled tomato sauce overtop. Adam thanked me as I placed our dinner on the table, and I smiled in return as I sank down into the chair across from him.

  It took me a few minutes into our meal, but I finally worked up enough nerve to bring up the case once again. I still had a few questions. And I had an offer of my own.

  Since Adam already knew why I was on the island, I told him I was willing to share all I’d uncovered so far in my investigation. He’d been honest; now it was my turn to reciprocate. On a roll I even confessed that I had a copy of the case files and, going one step further, offered to let him read through them. But surprisingly Adam waved it off. “I’ve already seen all those files—”

  I gasped, interrupting him. He rolled his eyes. “Do you honestly think you’re the only one with the right connections, Maddy? I read those files a long time ago.”

  “Oh, OK,” I mumbled dejectedly, crunching into a bite of salad.

  “Anyway,” Adam continued, “I have no desire to rehash the details of the case. It’s part of my past, and I’d like to keep it that way. Do what you need to do, but keep me out of it, got it?”

  “Sure, I can do that. But you really don’t mind if I continue to look into it?” I asked, somewhat baffled that he wasn’t asking me to shut down my investigation. Maybe this was proof enough that he was innocent.

  Adam twirled his pasta unconcernedly. “It’s just research for a novel, right?”

  It suddenly dawned on me that, of course, Adam would naturally assume I was writing another work of fiction. He probably thought I was utilizing the case files as some kind of general outline. I was suddenly grateful I’d not gone off about my trip to Billy’s nor revealed that there was a mystery blonde Chelsea had been photographed kissing.

  I had to rethink things. Maybe it was best to keep my real plans—to write a nonfiction account of the Harbour Falls Mystery—a secret after all, so I responded with, “Yeah, just the usual background research I do before sitting down to write.”

  Adam held my eyes for a moment, searching. I kept my expression neutral, and he finally said, “In that case I don’t foresee any problems.”

  After we were finished eating, and Adam helped me clear the table and load the dishwasher, we sat back down at the kitchen table. “I hate to eat and run, but I really do have to get going,” he said.

  I glanced at the florescent-blue digital readout on the stove; it was only a little after eight. Nights were boring and lonely at the cottage, and had been especially so during my week of seclusion.

  “Already? Why?” I blurted, and then added in a softer voice, “I’m sorry. I was just hoping you’d stay longer. I thought maybe we could watch a movie together.”

  “I wish I could, I really do. But there are some things I have to take care of before tomorrow morning.” Adam reached over and caressed my cheek. “Trust me, I’d much prefer spending the evening watching a movie with you than catching up on work. But duty calls.”

  “That’s fine, I understand,” I said.

  Adam must have detected the disappointment in my tone, because he offered, “Maybe another night?”

  “What about tomorrow night?” I paused, and then added, “It is a Friday after all, the start of the weekend.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he said, smiling. “How ’bout I get here at seven?”

  “Perfect,” I replied.

  When Adam left he did so with only a chaste kiss to my cheek. Tease, I thought, when I noticed him suppressing a smile. Was he still withholding kisses? We’d see just how long that would last. I smiled as I envisioned movie night with Adam Ward…curled up on the sofa.

  But I wanted to look more appealing than this. I glanced at my apparel—yeah, the wrinkled tee and dirt-smudged jeans look was not going to cut it if I wanted to really capture Adam’s attention. Although the exposed skin at my midriff had not gone unnoticed by him, I wanted to wow him with a sexier look. Silk couture, a la date night, might be a bit much, but I’d have to find something more enticing for tomorrow night.

  While I sat mentally sifting through potential outfits, guilt began to nag at me. Reminding me that honesty—not some contrived outfit—was the real foundation of a burgeoning relationship. Adam had been honest with me about the phone call. It seemed wrong to let him go on believing I was planning on writing some fictional novel. But what choice did I have? I feared he’d ask me to stop if I told him the truth. And honestly, I didn’t want to give up on the investigation. I didn’t want to give up on the idea of a nonfiction book about the disappearance, and more than anything, I really didn’t want to give up on Adam.

  So what would happen if—or when—he found out I’d lied to him? I’d cross that bridge when I came to it, and if it did come to pass, I surely hoped he’d understand.

  Chapter 10

  Friday afternoon was spent fully emerging from my week of self-imposed isolation. First I called Helena to let her know everything was fine and promised to stop into the café sometime the following day. The trill of conversation punctuated the background, and when I asked who was there, Helena said Jennifer had brought somebody over on the ferry, and she was in the middle of filling their order for two lattes to go. Before I had a chance to question her further to find out who had arrived on Fade Island, Helena yelled out a hasty, “I gotta go, talk to you later,” and disconnected.

  My next call was to my father. He kept stressing that Fade Island was a lot closer to Harbour Falls than Los Angeles, but sometimes it didn’t seem that way. So after catching the hint that my father was missing his daughter, I made plans to head over to the mainland and visit him on Sunday afternoon. That seemed to brighten his day considerably.

  After I hung up, I glanced over to where I’d hidden the case files, in their new spot under a loose floorboard by the bookcase. I knew I should go back over the material, review it some more, but I wasn’t really up to delving back into the mystery. Not just yet.

  For one thing, I was too preoccupied thinking about the night ahead—movie night with Adam. And after the week I’d just had, I wanted one night where I could pretend there was no mystery, no missing person, no unsolved case. I wanted to be Maddy Fitch—a girl who was looking forward to spending a fun, flirty evening with a guy she was falling for. Tonight I didn’t want to be Maddy Fitch—the writer investigating a complicated cold case and getting in way over her head.

  With those thoughts in mind, I went upstairs to find something more appropriate than my current ensemble of baggy sweats and crummy T-shirt. After rummaging through half my wardrobe, searching for something casual, yet sexy, to change into, I finally settled on charcoal twill pencil-leg jeans; funky, black, open-toed ankle boots with lots of sassy straps
; and a cute, black-lace, corset-style top with satin ribbons up the back. Yeah, this outfit was definitely hot, and I was pretty certain it would get Adam’s attention.

  It was approaching seven, so I quickly showered and got dressed for the evening. I left my hair down and applied more eye shadow, liner, and mascara than usual to give my eyes a smoldering, smoky appearance. Satisfied, I went back downstairs to double-check the provisions for the evening.

  There was beer in the fridge—a respectable import—and a frozen pizza in the freezer. That was going to have to do if we got hungry. After all, it wasn’t as if there was pizza delivery around the corner here on the island.

  Since this was, in a way, our second date, and the first one had ended so badly, I felt a little apprehensive and nervous. Pacing around the kitchen wasn’t settling the butterflies in my stomach, so I went back into the living room, put on a mellow CD from some indie band, and popped open the cold beer I’d grabbed from the fridge. Sitting down on the floor in front of the TV cabinet, I began to organize my somewhat-limited DVD collection into categories. I sorted eight into “comedy,” four into “horror,” twelve into “drama,” and two into a special category I deemed “Hell-no-Adam-mustn’t-know-I-own-this.”

  Falling into that last category was, first, a classic Disney movie. It was really cute, but Adam did not strike me as the Disney type. So Simba, Timon, and the gang got tossed under the sofa. The second DVD was a romantic drama, a real tearjerker. One of my favorites, in fact, but I feared Adam would suspect I was trying to send him some kind of message about how I expected our relationship to go. Yeah, definitely too soon for that one, I thought. I hesitated, though, because I really loved that movie.

  Sitting there, DVD poised in hand, the glare of car headlights suddenly flashing across the living room wall drew my attention. Was it Adam arriving early? If so I had to get rid of the tearjerker flick. So I quickly jammed it under the sofa to join the Disney show.

  I rose and went over to the window to look out. Adam’s car was, indeed, closing in on the cottage, but the Porsche was coming from the direction of town, not from Adam’s house. Odd, maybe he’d gone into town first for some reason. As the vehicle slowed around the bend near the cottage, I saw Adam driving. But what was strange was that there was someone in the passenger seat. A woman, for sure. One with short, dark hair. What the…?

  The car sped off toward his house, and I went back to sit on the sofa, dumfounded. Why would Adam be driving by my cottage with a woman in his car? Fifteen minutes before he was supposed to be here to watch a movie with me. Something was definitely off. And I didn’t like it one bit.

  I went into the kitchen, slammed the empty bottle down on the table, and defiantly grabbed another one out of the refrigerator. And then I began to pace, the heels of my boots clicking across the linoleum floor. My mind went into overdrive. The woman wasn’t Helena or Ami, not with the dark hair. It couldn’t have been Jennifer either. This woman had short hair. Besides, I suspected Adam and Jennifer were not particularly friendly. How could they be with the J.T. factor thrown in? So who was in the car with Adam?

  Lifting the bottle to my lips, I drank down the last of my second beer. I attempted to toss the bottle into the trash but missed. Damn, I was a lightweight when it came to drinking. I went over to pick the bottle up off the floor and froze. Oh no! What if the unidentified woman was Lindsey? From what Helena had said, I’d gotten the impression Lindsey didn’t come here to see Adam; it sounded more like a convenient tryst for when he was in Boston. But maybe she’d come up to the island to find out why Adam had stopped seeing her. Hell, I would have. And hadn’t Helena said Jennifer had brought somebody over from the mainland earlier today? I kicked myself for not calling Helena back earlier to find out who’d been ordering that latte with Jennifer. Shit.

  Things rapidly went from bad to worse when I noticed it was three minutes after seven. My heart dropped. Not only was Adam with another woman, but he was apparently standing me up. Now determined to drown my sorrows in alcohol, I grabbed another beer. And that was when my cell phone began to buzz.

  Adam, the screen indicated.

  Oh, this ought to be good, I thought to myself as I took a long drink and then said “Hello” in a none-too-happy voice.

  “Maddy, it’s Adam.” No kidding. “I got delayed, but I’ll be there in—”

  “You’re late,” I interrupted, promptly sipping more beer in the ensuing interlude.

  “I know, and I apologize. Something out of my control came up—”

  “Oh, I bet something came up,” I said bitingly. Being a smartass was better than crying, and the beer made it all too easy.

  Adam paused. “Maddy, are you alright? You sound kind of, I don’t know, not yourself.”

  “Never been better,” I answered, before downing the last of my cold beverage.

  “Uh, if tonight’s not a good night…” he trailed off, uncertainty in his voice.

  I wanted an explanation—in person— so I hastily replied, “No. In fact, how soon can you get here?”

  “Ten minutes?”

  “See you then,” I said flippantly, before hitting end.

  I waited until I heard his Porsche pulling into my driveway to get up from the kitchen chair I’d settled into. Whoa, steady there, I thought as I held tightly to the edge of the table for a few extra seconds. The alcohol I’d consumed had caught up to me, and I was definitely feeling it.

  Tottering in my heels, I negotiated my way to the front door. Once I made it there without incident, I fluffed out my hair, bit down on my lips to give them some color, and pushed up my corset to further enhance my already-prominent cleavage. Let him see just what he’ll be missing once I kick him to the curb.

  But when I opened the door, I was met with a breathtakingly gorgeous—albeit slightly blurry—Adam. Dressed in a deep blue pullover that complemented the color of his eyes and faded jeans that hugged him in all the right ways, he was quite a vision of handsomeness. “Wow! You look hot,” I blurted and then mentally slapped myself for complimenting him when I was supposed to be mad.

  Adam chuckled, and I caught him steal a glance at my ample cleavage. Score one for me.

  “Coming in, Adam?” I giggled, throwing his words from the night on the runway back at him, while leaning against the doorframe for support.

  Adam eyed me curiously, brow furrowed, “Have you been drinking, Madeleine?”

  “Aw, just a little,” I pshawed. I grabbed his hand and tugged. “Come on in to my humble abode. Or should I say your humble abode.”

  Adam allowed me the illusion that I was dragging him across the floor and into the living room, but in reality he was helping me keep my balance. “Maybe you should lose the heels,” he said when I almost tripped.

  “Trying to get me out of my clothes already, Adam?” I teased, swaying.

  “Come here, Maddy,” he said gently as he led me to the sofa, where I promptly fell back into the cushions. He knelt down on the floor in front of me, while wrapping a hand around one of my heels. “Lift,” he prodded.

  Sighing, I complied, and Adam unzipped my boot. “So I had a little too much to drink,” I protested. “It’s your fault anyway.”

  Dropping the boot to the floor, he wrapped his hand around my other ankle as his oh-so-blue eyes met mine. “My fault?” he asked, nonplussed as he unzipped the other boot. “Why’s that?”

  I held up my index finger. “One, you’re late.”

  “Only fifteen minutes, and I apologized.” The second boot dropped to the floor.

  “That was only the first reason,” I said, waving my finger and raising a second. “Number two, and this is a big one.” Adam cocked an eyebrow. “I saw you driving by with another woman.”

  Adam laughed—and damn if he didn’t look more gorgeous than ever. This man was maddening. But
I forged on. “Who was she, Adam?”

  He curled his hand around my calf, smiling. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

  “It’s not funny,” I huffed. “And I’m not jealous.”

  “You are,” he said as he rubbed my calf gently. “But you have no reason to be. That was my sister in the car. She was supposed to come in tomorrow, but she came up from Boston early.”

  “That was Trina?” I squeaked out, realization dawning on me that she was the person Jennifer had brought over today. Oops.

  “Who did you think it was?” Adam asked, unmistakable amusement lacing his tone.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Nobody, really…” I trailed off.

  Not only did I have no intention of sharing my misinterpretations with him, but his hands were wrapped around both my calves now, and whatever he was doing with his fingers felt amazing.

  “Yeah, sure.” A smile played at the corners of his mouth.

  “It’s not important anyway,” I said as I relaxed back into the sofa. “We should just pick out a movie and forget about it.”

  “We should but first”—Adam swiftly pulled me into his lap—“we should do this.” His lips crashed down on mine, and I maneuvered my legs to either side of his.

  Soft and warm those tender kisses were until they turned ravaging. Desperate, hungry, I couldn’t get enough of Adam. And caught off guard, he responded.

  With his fingers tracing the laces on the back of my corset, Adam broke away long enough to breathe out, “This is very hot.” His hands trailed down to curve around my bottom. “God, Maddy, do you know how much I want you?”