by Grey, S. R.
After we said our farewells, my dad walked down the corridor to the detectives’ offices. And I went to the front lobby, where I found Adam—a weary-looking but still insanely gorgeous Adam.
“How’d it go with your father?” he asked, as I went to him and leaned my forehead against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, making me feel infinitely better.
“It went as well as could be expected,” I answered. “Just don’t expect the mayor to be giving you the key to the city or anything,”—Adam chuckled—“but I think he’s willing to give you a chance.”
I hope he gives you a chance, I thought, but left unsaid.
Stepping back I noticed Hoffman was nowhere to be seen. I cast a curious glance to Adam, and he explained that my attorney had gone back over to Harbour Falls. I was certain we’d be discussing more tomorrow, but it felt good to be done for now. It had been a long, trying day, and I was sick of talking about the events that had transpired. I just wanted to go home.
Adam and I stepped out into the cold, biting air. The promise of winter resonated as we made our way to the parking lot.
Adam was kind of quiet, so I asked, “Aren’t you wondering what went down in the interrogation room? I kind of figured you’d be expecting a blow-by-blow account.”
Adam gave me a tight smile. “Elliot already filled me in.”
“Oh,” I replied. “Um, does that mean he told you, uh, everything?”
I felt a little conflicted. I mean, yeah, I realized Adam was paying the man, but Elliot Hoffman was still my attorney. What about attorney-client confidentiality and all that?
Adam must have guessed my thoughts, because he exhaled loudly and said, “Maddy, if you want to stay out of jail, it’s imperative I stay abreast of all the developments.” I sensed a flash of annoyance as he finished speaking, but he put his arm around me nonetheless and kissed the top of my head. Maybe I was just imagining things.
When we reached the first row of cars in the parking lot, I halted, suddenly realizing we had no transportation. “Wait,” I said. “How are we supposed to get home?”
Adam had said Hoffman picked him up at Cove Beach and drove them both to the police station here in Harbourtown. Or so I assumed. In any case Hoffman was gone, leaving us with no options. Then again I knew Adam had cars at his disposal here on this side of the water too. So who knew?
“You drove here with Hoffman, right?” I asked, looking for clarification as we resumed walking.
Adam shot me a sheepish grin. “Uh, not exactly.”
I frowned, and he amended, “Well, I was with Hoffman most of the way. He did pick me up at Cove Beach.”
I was so busy looking at Adam—trying to figure out what he was intimating—that I hadn’t noticed we’d stopped at a burgundy car—a burgundy BMW. My burgundy BMW. What the hell? Detective Mitchell had driven me to the station; I’d left my car at Billy’s. How could it be parked here?
I turned to face Adam and asked that exact question, my tone wary. “How’d my car get here, Adam?”
“I had Elliot stop at Billy’s so I could pick it up for you. I didn’t think you’d want to go anywhere near that place after what happened there.” I cringed at the fresh memory and nodded in agreement. “So we stopped there, got your car, and then I followed Elliott the rest of the way here.”
“But…the keys,” I asked, feeling for and finding the clear outline of the key fob in my bag. “How’d you get it started?”
I was stumped. Surely hot-wiring foreign imports was not among Adam’s many talents. Although I doubted much would shock me at this point.
“Yeah.” Adam raked his fingers through his hair. “About that…”
“Adam,” I warned.
“I had a spare key made for your car,” he confessed with no hint of apology.
God, this man continued to drive me mad, but I was too exhausted to get into it with him. I let it slide, even though it had been a very intrusive thing to do. Whatever, though. I had bigger things to worry about.
Adam produced the said spare key—complete with key fob—and unlocked the doors. Rolling my eyes, I got in on the passenger side and sank down into the seat. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, listening as Adam slid into the driver’s seat, a rustle of fabric against leather. And then the key turned in the ignition, the engine coming to life.
Adam’s warm hand descended to my own chilled ones that I held clasped together in my lap. “Everything is going to be fine,” he reassured me in a soft voice. “The police have nothing. It’s all circumstantial bullshit.”
With my eyes still closed, my breathing hitched as I said, “Adam, nothing is fine. Someone ended up dead today, because of me.”
Adam was quiet, so I opened my eyes and shifted in my seat so I could meet his gaze, unreadable in the limited illumination of the instrument panel.
Honesty, I had to be honest. Hoffman may have filled him in on the details of the interrogation, but there were still things Adam didn’t know. I needed to remedy that.
I cleared my throat. “Jimmy called me yesterday while you were out of town. I spoke with him for a few minutes.”
Adam’s expression twisted into something I couldn’t discern. “Is that why you went back to Billy’s?” he asked sharply. “Is that why you broke your promise, Madeleine?”
I winced because I knew this was the elephant in the room. Or in the car, as it were. I’d broken my promise. But look at what had happened. I’d certainly paid a high price.
Even so, Adam was obviously irritated, so I tried to explain, “When he called, he said he’d found it—Jimmy had finally found the picture. I only wanted to see who was in it.” My voice turned bitter. “But it doesn’t matter, not now. You were right. I should have left it alone and stayed away. Jimmy would still be alive today.”
Suddenly consumed with guilt, I looked away. Adam nudged my cheek, and I turned back to him. His anger seemed to have dissipated. “Maddy, that bar is a dangerous place. That’s why I wanted you to stay away. I may not be happy you broke your promise, but you sure as hell aren’t responsible for that guy’s death.”—Adam’s tone was now so full of understanding, I actually felt worse—“He was probably shot by a disgruntled customer, or some—”
“Stop,” I pleaded, choking up. “There’s more, Adam. More you don’t know.”
I squeezed his hand and quietly told him the other details he’d yet to hear. I explained how I’d found the empty envelope with the “M” on the front. With my face burning with shame, I admitted how I’d thrown it away in a panic, fearful I’d be linked to Jimmy’s murder. How ironic that action had turned out to be. I continued, expressing my concern that once the police delved further into the phone records, they’d find my other correspondences with Jimmy. Like the conversation I’d had with him regarding J.T.’s recent visit to the bar.
I suddenly froze. “Oh my God,” I exclaimed. “Do you think J.T. shot Jimmy? I mean, he did tell him to ‘watch his back.’”
Adam seemed to consider it but shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
I, however, was not so convinced. “Well, did anyone see him around today?” I was thinking back to earlier in the day when I’d not seen him on the ferry or at Cove Beach.
“I don’t know, Maddy. I was in Boston all morning, remember?”
Oh right. Adam continued as he put the car in gear. “Speaking of which, we’d better get started back. It’s been a long, crazy day.”
That was an understatement.
When we arrived at Cove Beach, we stowed my car in its assigned garage. But once we reached the dock, we bypassed the ferry. Instead Adam led me to a waiting speedboat.
“Oh,” I said, surprised. I knew Adam had his own private boats, but I’d so rarely seen him utilize them.
“With everything going
on earlier, I didn’t have time to wait for a ferry,” he explained. “This is a lot faster anyway. You’ll see.”
And it was. We reached Fade Island in no time at all, docking at the northern end of the island, where Adam’s other boats were apparently kept.
Adam drove me down to the cottage, but I could barely keep my eyes open. I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling a newfound kinship with this man I loved. Now I truly knew what it must have been like—these past four years or so—for Adam. With the purr of the Porsche engine lulling me to sleep, my last conscious thought was that this is what it felt like to be suspected of a crime you didn’t commit.
Late the next morning, I woke up—alone—in my own bed. But I was all tucked in, even had on the pajamas with the little cartoon dogs and cats. Someone had obviously gotten me out of my bloodstained clothes and into my pajamas. I plucked at my flannel sleeve, smiling. Adam evidently had accomplished the task, all without stirring me from my slumber. Amazing. I really had been exhausted. Not that I felt much better now. But it was a new day, and I couldn’t give up. I took a long shower, dressed, and made my way downstairs. With a strong cup of coffee in hand, I headed into the living room. Just as I sat down, my cell buzzed.
To my surprise the screen display indicated it was Ami. I’d not heard from her in weeks, and I still needed an explanation for her sending Julian to Fade Island, so I answered. “Maddy,” she began. “I’m glad you picked up. I really need to talk to you. It’s important.”
“Yeah,” I replied, “I’d like to talk to you too.” I paused and then let her have it. “Why in the hell did you tell Julian I was in some kind of danger? What were you thinking? Do you know he flew all the way up here to Maine just to see if I was OK? All because of what you said. Hell, Ami, why were you even in California?”
Despite my tirade Ami remained unruffled. “It’s a long story,” she said impassively.
“Well, I’d like to hear it,” I retorted. “I mean, Ami, why would you tell my agent—tell Julian, for God’s sake—that I was in danger?”
“You are in danger!” she exclaimed. “Look at what happened yesterday to that kid in Harbourtown.”
OK, so Ami had heard about Jimmy. In such a small community, the news was probably all over the place by now.
Ami was still rambling, “I mean, what if it had been you, Maddy? What if you were the intended target?”
Now she had my attention. “Do you know something?”—silence—“If you know anything at all, Ami, you have to go to the police. Do you realize they think I killed Jimmy?”
Ami remained quiet but then said in a soft voice, “Actually I may be able to help you. But it’s too dangerous to talk over the phone. We should meet in person.”
“Fine, when?”
“I can make it over to the island in an hour. Meet me at the dock at one o’clock.”
After I agreed, we ended the call. I didn’t have much time. I wanted to tell Adam what was going on, so I tried his cell. But it went straight to voicemail. I thought about leaving a message, but there was too much to tell, so I just disconnected.
How could Ami possibly help? What did she know? These were the thoughts that occupied my mind as I finished my coffee, rinsed out the cup, grabbed my jacket. Shit! I suddenly remembered my Lexus was down at the dock. Since we’d taken Adam’s speedboat and docked on the northern end of the island, I hadn’t even considered my car. But when I opened the front door, resigned that I’d have to walk all the way down to the dock, I got quite the surprise. The Lexus was in the driveway. Adam must have had Nate or Max return it to the cottage sometime within the past twenty-four hours. In any case I was just thankful it was there, so I hurried out, hopped into the car, and turned the key that was still in the ignition.
The drive down to the dock took no time at all. I passed the café, but it was still closed. It was Tuesday, the day Helena was supposed to return to the island. She should be back by now, I thought, opening the café for business. Maybe she’d gotten tied up in Harbour Falls. I hated that I’d lied to her about my real reason for having been in Harbourtown, but I wondered if my remorse would really matter to her.
Detective Mitchell had informed me that the young officer had indeed found Helena waiting for me at the restaurant. But he hadn’t divulged what her reaction had been when she’d been told why I wouldn’t be meeting her for lunch. Had she been angry with me for lying? Or mad that I’d involved her in my mess? Surely she had to be wondering why I’d been at Billy’s. All the players in the Harbour Falls Mystery knew the significance of that place, so it was a certainty she’d put two and two together. Writing a book about the mystery had fallen off my priority list, but solving it was still at the top. Yeah, Helena was no fool, and she’d soon realize why I’d come to Fade Island. I just hoped she could forgive me when she did.
It was after one when I pulled into the parking lot down by the dock. The ferry was just coming in—fifteen minutes late—when I got out of the Lexus. Odd, since the ferries were quite punctual despite the motley crew that operated them.
I squinted into the glare from the sun to see if Ami was on board. But I frowned when I caught sight of the pilot instead. J.T. O’Brien. Ugh, why did it have to be him? I’d been hoping for Brody to be the one piloting the one o’clock ferry.
The possibility of a connection between Jimmy’s demise and J.T. made my blood run cold. He was about the last person I cared to see today. Hell, I still had no idea what he’d been up to over on the east side of the island. Digging around, burying something, reburying something, who knew?
I shuddered as I approached the dock. J.T. glanced up as he secured the ferry to the dock. “Maddy Fitch,” he said, expression grim. “What brings you down to the dock?” He lifted a dark satchel. “Are you really that anxious to get the mail?”
For a brief moment, I froze, panicked that J.T. somehow knew I was waiting for something from Jimmy. But he’d have no way of knowing such a thing. Besides, there was no way Jimmy’s mail—if he’d remembered to send it—would be here so quickly. Mail service was notoriously slow around these parts.
Looking past J.T. and ignoring his comment, I said, “Where’s Ami?”
He looked perplexed, but I couldn’t discern whether if it was an act or not. “Who? Ami Hensley?”
I eyed him suspiciously. “Yeah, she told me she was coming over on this ferry.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Maddy. The only thing I brought over is the mail,” J.T. said flatly as he hoisted the satchel over his shoulder and pushed past me.
A shiver ran down my spine at the brief contact, and I took a step back. Before I could think better of it, I muttered under my breath, “Likely story.”
J.T. dropped the satchel to the ground and spun around to face me. “You accusing me of something?”
“No,” I replied, looking everywhere but at his face.
And that was when I noticed a deep scratch running down the length of his forearm. It looked like it had been inflicted by something sharp, like maybe a long fingernail, and worse still, it appeared to be a recent wound. Like really recent.
My stomach lurched as J.T. stepped to close the gap between us. Fear gripped every part of my being, and I held my breath, expecting the worst. But suddenly a black Porsche screeched into the parking lot, skidding to a stop. Thank God!
With his hot breath in my face, J.T. muttered, “Lucky bitch.” I stepped back, and he hissed, “One of these days, your luck is gonna run out.”
Calmly picking up the mailbag, J.T. snorted in derision and began walking toward the steep grade that led up to Main Street.
Adam got out of the car and shot J.T. a look of undisguised fury. But he kept on walking, ignoring Adam completely. Adam appeared torn on whether he should follow J.T. or come to me. In the end he headed in my direction.
“Maddy
, what are you doing down here?” he asked in exasperation as he reached me, his eyes flickering to J.T.’s departing form.
“I thought Ami was coming over, I came down here to meet her,” I explained and then lamely added, “I tried to call you to tell you what was going on.”
“Ami?” Adam echoed, clearly confused. “Why would she be coming over to the island? I gave her some time off, so there’s no reason for her to—”
“Adam,” I interrupted. “She called me this morning. She wanted me to meet her here.” He arched an eyebrow, and I continued, “She said she needed to talk to me in person, that it was important. She said she could help me. I think she knows something about what happened to Jimmy.”
An indecipherable emotion flared in his expression, but then it was gone. “Maddy,” he began slowly. “I know you want answers, especially now. But Ami isn’t someone who can help you.”
“But Adam—”
“Madeleine,” he interrupted. “You know she has her own problems. Leave her out of this.”
He had a point, but…still. “OK, but even if you’re right, where is she?”
“I don’t know.” Adam sighed. “Unstable people do unpredictable things. She probably changed her mind and decided not to come over.”
He put his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Unfortunately it looked as if I’d gotten my hopes up for nothing. I was so desperate for answers that I’d believed the ramblings of a troubled person. Dejected, I got in my car and followed Adam back to his house. We made a quick stop at my cottage to pick up some clothes. He had suggested, as we’d walked to our respective cars, that I stay at his place. At least for a little while. I guessed he was worried for my safety after J.T.’s actions at the dock. It sounded good to me. Not just because of the J.T. situation, but also because I had no desire to spend another lonely night at the cottage.