by S. R. Grey
My heart soared, making me giddy with joy. “Well”–I nodded to my mud-splattered T-shirt on the floor, the dirty sweats sticking to my legs, both reminders of the meltdown that had led me to his house—“you can’t do much worse than I’ve already done.”
Adam laughed, brushing my hair back behind my shoulders. “Speaking of which, you probably should get cleaned up, and you have to be starving.” He hesitated, and then gestured in the direction of the kitchen. “I can make something while you shower. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” I responded as Adam helped me to my feet.
Fifteen minutes later, after a hot shower, I padded back down the stairs, clothed in a fresh pair of gray sweats, a white long-sleeved tee, and a black hoodie. A pair of thick, wooly socks completed my comfortable outfit. The one thing I’d decided while in the shower was to ask Adam about the blonde mystery woman. We’d been so honest with one another that I was certain if he knew anything he’d tell me.
“Smells good,” I said, entering the kitchen just as Adam was ladling steaming tomato soup into bowls he’d set out on the table, next to where he’d already plated grilled cheese sandwiches.
“Your gourmet experience awaits, milady,” he teased, gesturing dramatically to the table.
Laughing, I sat down. I took a bite of the sandwich, a sip of the soup. “Delicious,” I gushed as Adam sat down across from me. “But I expect nothing less.”
My tone was light, but Adam must have sensed there was something more on my mind because he said, “What’s up, Maddy?”
I set my spoon down. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Anything.”
Tensing, I cautioned, “It’s about the case.”
Adam sighed deeply but said quietly, “I’ll answer whatever question you have. If I can, that is.”
This wasn’t an easy question to ask, but I forged ahead. “Um, did you ever hear anything about Chelsea possibly, uh, messing around with a woman? A blonde?”
Far from the reaction I expected, he laughed out loud, clearly finding my question amusing. “A woman?” he said, disbelief in his tone. “Chelsea may have been promiscuous, but she was definitely not into women, Maddy.”
Adam sounded so sure. Was it due to a male ego that couldn’t comprehend such a thing? Or had Chelsea kept that particular indiscretion well hidden? The one drunken incident at Billy’s supposedly captured on film the only lapse.
But there was also another possibility, one I had to consider. Jimmy could be jerking me around. Especially since there had been cash involved when he came up with his tale. Making that possibility more likely, I had yet to come across one scrap of evidence corroborating his claim that Chelsea had been messing around with some blonde female.
I was about to drop it completely when Adam took a sip of soup and then casually asked, “What did you uncover that made you think something like that?”
I almost lied. Almost. But things were different now. It was like we had turned a corner in our relationship, and I didn’t want to be the one to set it back. So I was truthful. “I heard a rumor about a picture.”
“A picture? Of what exactly?” Adam had been eating up to this point, but now he set his spoon down next to his bowl of soup.
“A picture of Chelsea supposedly kissing some blonde girl.”
Adam eyed me intently, interest piqued. “Have you seen this picture?”
“No,” I said. “I told you it’s just a rumor. It probably doesn’t even exist.”
He held my gaze. I knew Adam was contemplating something, probably how much deeper to dig. Sure enough, he asked, “And just where did you hear about this alleged photograph, Madeleine?”
Well, now what? I didn’t want to start weaving another web of lies, so I admitted, “The bartender at Billy’s told me about the picture. He said Chelsea was there one night with this blonde friend of hers and agreed to make out with said friend so the bartender—a different one at that time—could take pictures.”
Adam rolled his eyes and picked up his sandwich, though he didn’t take a bite. “Did this bartender offer Chelsea something? Like make a bet with her?”
“Sort of. Jimmy said that the bartender told Chelsea he’d let her bar tab slide for the rest of that week if she’d do it.”
“Well, that’s why she did it then,” Adam said, biting into his sandwich nonchalantly.
I had given up on my own meal. Pushing the plate aside, I said, “But it’s not like she was on a budget or something. She certainly didn’t need the money.”
Adam swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was never about money with Chelsea. It was about winning. At any cost.”
His words made sense, and he had known Chelsea probably better than anyone. The possibility that Jimmy’s claims were an exaggeration—especially the one where he’d supposedly overheard Chelsea saying to her blonde friend that they’d “already done a lot more” than kiss—was more than probable. And knowing what I’d learned so far about my young bartender friend, it was probably nothing more than some perverted, wishful fantasy. I made a quick decision to not even bother telling Adam those sordid details.
“So,” I clarified, “you think there really could be a picture out there, but that it doesn’t depict anything more than Chelsea following through with some kind of a wager?”
“Exactly,” Adam confirmed, reaching over the table to smooth back a damp piece of hair that had fallen to my cheek. “So Madeleine, there is absolutely no reason for you to go back to that bar. Don’t forget you made a promise when you lost a bet of your very own.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Remember?”
“Yes, yes.” My cheeks flamed. “I remember.” How could I forget the bet I lost—the one where I’d ended up begging him to take off my jeans?
“Maddy,” Adam warned, “I hope you intend to keep your promise.”
Maybe one little white lie isn’t too bad? “Of course,” I muttered.
He seemed to consider my response, watching me closely. At last those stormy eyes calmed. I was off the hook, for now.
We finished our dinner and then moved into the living room to watch some television. After awhile I curled up in Adam’s arms and drifted off. He must have fallen asleep as well, because we both started when my cell phone buzzed across the coffee table. I grabbed it, quickly silencing the text-alert tone.
“Who is it?” Adam asked, his voice thick with sleep.
There were three consecutive texts from Helena. She’d set up our day in Boston for Wednesday, and apparently she and Trina already had the shopping itinerary planned out. I shared the information with Adam, showing him the texts, and asked what his upcoming work week looked like.
“I actually have meetings all day on Wednesday in Boston. You could fly down there with me in the morning,” Adam offered.
Adam went on to detail how I wouldn’t even have to bother planning transportation to Trina and Walker’s downtown loft apartment, since his driver could easily drop me off on the way to his morning meetings.
“Oh, that sounds like a plan,” I cooed in response, and then texted Helena with the good news that I’d definitely be joining her and Trina on Wednesday.
Shortly thereafter Adam left, and I went up to bed. Unlike before, now I was really looking forward to the Boston excursion. Helena would be closing down the café for the next two weeks until the first of November. And Adam had several business trips coming up; he’d informed me he was working on closing a deal with a big client located in Boston. That was why he’d had so many meetings there lately.
With no Helena and very little Adam, I feared the next few weeks were going to be extremely dull here on the island. But as I drifted off to sleep, little did I know how incredibly wrong that assumption would end up being.
Chapter 19
As planned I flew out Wednesday morning with Adam. Oh, how that man looked smoking hot sitting there in the pilot’s seat in the cockpit of his jet, aviator sunglasses on, the early morning sunlight reflecti
ng off the mirrored lenses.
Adam flipped a few switches, and the engines sprang to life. I placed the copilot’s headset on my head and pretended to press a few buttons on the control board.
“Madeleine,” Adam scolded playfully, while moving my hand back to my lap. “Behave!”
I lowered my chin, peering over the top of my own cool sunglasses. “Or what, Captain?” I teased.
Adam shot me a sidelong glance, smirking. “Or else the copilot is going to have to be punished.”
“Oooh, promise?” I squealed in delight. “Sounds like that could be fun.”
Adam laughed and shook his head. “Naughty girl,” he muttered.
“Only for you, babe,” I replied, leaning back into the copilot’s seat and adjusting my sunglasses. “Only for you.”
The plane taxied down the runway and then lifted into the clear, blue sky. There was nary a cloud marring the azure horizon. We really could not have planned for a more ideal day to fly to Boston.
The flight was short, and upon landing, I noticed there was a limo waiting for us out on the tarmac. Adam directed the driver to Trina’s downtown loft apartment that she shared with Walker. When we pulled up to the sidewalk, Adam and I said our farewells in the idling limo, punctuated by a fairly steamy make-out session. We broke apart only when we heard the driver clearing his throat, loudly. Yeah, being in love was awesome. I waved a good-bye and practically skipped into the tony apartment building. When I reached the elevator, I pressed the button for Trina’s floor—the fourteenth—and finally came down from my Adam-induced high.
Trina’s apartment was at the end of the hallway—a corner unit. The door swung open almost as soon as I rang the bell. “Maddy, hi,” Trina exclaimed. “Come on in.”
Stepping over the threshold, I noticed Trina was dressed to the nines in a pale blue blouse and navy pencil skirt ensemble that accentuated her trim figure perfectly. She was tall, like her brother, but the dark blue suede pumps she wore added even more height.
“Helena, Maddy’s here,” Trina called out over her shoulder, and then she gave me a quick hug. Stepping back, she added, “You look great, by the way.”
“Thanks.” Glancing down at the maroon crepe dress and black Louboutin pumps I was wearing, I was happy I’d chosen appropriate attire for this shopping excursion.
Trina led me into the living room, asking, “How was the flight down?”
“Smooth,” I replied. “It’s such a beautiful day.”
Trina nodded. “Yeah, perfect for flying but even better for shopping.”
The living room was all high ceilings and lots of open space. Funky, Scandinavian-style furniture was scattered about the room. The overall look was eclectic but in a very put-together way. It suited Trina, just as Adam’s décor suited his personality.
Helena, standing in front of a curved-back chair with chocolate brown cushions, looked as glamorous as a runway model in a chic black dress, black tights, and black, thigh-high boots. She came over to give me a hug. “Maddy, I’m so happy you’re here. We are going to have so much fun today.”
“Aw, thanks for inviting me,” I said, stepping back.
I felt genuinely welcomed as we spent some time chatting in the living room. Before we knew it, it was time to go, so we headed over to a local bistro Trina and Helena had chosen for lunch. “You’re going to love it,” Trina said as the hostess seated us. “The salads here are the best in the city.”
After we perused our menus and placed our orders, Helena feigned a gravely serious expression and stated, “Maddy, I hope you’re ready for some seriously hardcore shopping this afternoon.”
Trina giggled and added, “Yeah, you haven’t shopped until you’ve shopped with us, honey.”
The waiter returned to our table, filling our glasses with fresh ice water. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I brought my platinum card,” I said, laughing.
“Oh,” Trina said, “you should have borrowed Adam’s black Amex. No limit, you know.”
The salads arrived, and spearing a piece of endive with my fork, I muttered, “Um, I think my own card should be enough.”
Helena raised her eyebrows in mid-bite. Hurriedly she swallowed, forked poised in the air, and said, “Speaking of Adam, how are things going with you two? I’m guessing you worked everything out after the unexpected visit from your ex?”
I hadn’t mentioned Julian’s visit to Helena, so I assumed Adam had told Nate.
Trina glanced up, confused, so I quickly filled her in on the unexpected visit from my ex-boyfriend. I didn’t mention Adam’s late-night breakin at the cottage nor my subsequent breakdown. I only confirmed that Adam and I had worked it out.
“I still don’t get how this Julian-guy knew where to find you.” Trina said.
Helena took a sip of water. “Yeah, Maddy,” she said as she lowered her glass. “I could see him looking for you in Harbour Falls, but Fade Island is so remote. How’d he know you were there?”
I saw no harm in sharing how Julian had discovered my whereabouts. In fact, I hoped maybe the two of them could offer some insight into crazy Ami and her antics. But I had no intention of going into detail about the reason for his visit: thinking I was in some kind of danger on the island. Revealing that might clue them in to my true intentions.
“Uh, Ami Dubois, er, I mean, Hensley, told Julian where I was living. She and Sean are vacationing out in Los Angeles, and I guess she looked him up.” I paused, rolling my eyes, and adding for effect, “God only knows why.”
“How strange,” Helena said, her voice oddly flat. “That poor girl sure has problems. I guess she didn’t hear that you and Adam are dating.”
Trina nodded. “Yeah, I’ve only met her a few times, but Adam told me all about her, uh, problems. It’s just so sad.”
Remembering how Jennifer had mentioned my schoolgirl crush on Adam—something only Ami had known—I asked Helena, “Do you know if Ami is friends with Jennifer Weston?”
“I don’t think so,” Helena replied, eyeing me with curiosity. “Why do you ask?”
The waiter returned to clear away our plates, so I took a sip of water and then continued after he was out of earshot. “Jennifer mentioned something about a crush I had on Adam back in high school. Ami was the only one who ever knew about that crush.”
“Hmmm…” Helena seemed contemplative, but something about her demeanor still felt off. “That is bizarre. Who knows? Maybe they are friends, but I’ve never seen them hanging out together.”
With a shudder Trina asked, “Speaking of Jennifer, what’s the latest with that creepy J.T. O’Brien?” She shot me an apologetic look. “Is he still in rehab?”
Helena glanced uneasily to me and said quietly, “Actually, Nate said he got out yesterday.”
I nearly knocked my glass over. “What? I thought he was in for at least two weeks?”
Helena placed her hand over mine in a gesture of support. “He was supposed to be, Maddy. But that facility is overcrowded, so J.T. was released into the outpatient program early.”
“Great,” I mumbled sarcastically.
“That’s ridiculous,” Trina chimed in. “He’s another one with some serious issues. They really should just lock him up and throw away the key. In fact, all the things he’s done in the past, I’m surprised he’s not at Willow Point.”
OK, so it was clear Trina disliked J.T. O’Brien as much as her brother did. I had little doubt it was due to J.T.’s past involvement with Chelsea. But Willow Point? Even I wouldn’t wish for J.T. to end up there.
Trina, now on a roll, continued, “Maddy, it was terrible what he did to you at the café. Adam asked me not to bring it up, but really, just thank heavens he and Nate got there in time.”
“Yeah,” Helena added. “If Adam hadn’t arrived, you could have ended up like Chelsea.” She snapped her fingers. “Poof! Just disappeared into thin air.”
Trina gave Helena a pointed look, and Helena glanced to me apologetically. “Sorry, I got carried aw
ay.”
It was crystal clear who Helena believed was responsible for Chelsea’s disappearance. Not that I disagreed with her. J.T. O’Brien could’ve very easily been behind Chelsea’s unexplained departure. Crime of passion and all that.
And now he was out.
A silence fell over the table as we all absorbed the impact of Helena’s words. I glanced over to Trina, who was nervously playing with a dangly earring, eyes downcast. Flashes of the letters I’d discovered in Adam’s desk flipped through my mind. I couldn’t rule Trina out as a suspect either, despite her brother’s insistence of her innocence.
And I couldn’t figure out why Adam continued to hold onto those incriminating letters. Unless he believed his own sister had followed through on her threats. Did he plan to confront her someday with that evidence? Or would he be so cold as to use it to exonerate himself if he ever were arrested? God, I hoped not. It seemed unlikely, though, since he could have used those letters ages ago when the police were really bearing down on him.
Then there was Helena, another suspect. The case files revealed her alibi to not be nearly as ironclad as Nate’s. Just because she claimed to have gone to the bathroom down the hall from the rental office of their former apartment complex did not make it a fact.
But did I really think Helena or Trina were more likely suspects than someone like J.T. O’Brien? No. But I also couldn’t blindly ignore the evidence I’d uncovered thus far.
In any case I didn’t want our day to be ruined by the damn Harbour Falls Mystery, so I said, “Maybe we should change the subject. Agreed?”
Helena and Trina nodded emphatically. Both seemed relieved, and we began to discuss less serious topics. Like which stores we’d be hitting up on our shopping extravaganza. Trina excitedly listed off a dizzying array of shops and boutiques in the area. I hadn’t been shopping since before I’d left LA, so I was kind of excited to get started.
After leaving the bistro, we walked down the block to the first boutique on Trina’s list, and then the next and the next. Trina’s list was inexhaustible, it seemed. Our shopping spree continued down the corridor of fashionable shops. There was no end in sight until we finally, as late afternoon approached, entered a trendy boutique specializing in women’s business wear. Exhausted, we all agreed to make it our final stop for the day.