by Grey, S. R.
Tapping the cell to my chin, I pondered the one thing that could potentially blow the lid off this whole mess.
The photograph.
Enough days had passed that it should have arrived. But there had been the storm and, consequently, no ferry service yesterday. No ferry service equaled no mail service. Today, however, the weather was fine, and the ferry would be running on its regular schedule. So I put the Lexus in gear and raced toward town, my focus on reaching the café and getting my hands on the mail.
When I reached my destination, I parked in my usual spot out front and hurried in. I headed toward the coffee bar in the back, glancing around in the hopes of possibly seeing Helena on the premises. I’d not heard much from her since Monday—the day Jimmy had been murdered. And I had yet to apologize for involving her in my explanation to the police for being in Harbourtown. I didn’t even know if she was mad. Since that day she’d left only one brief voicemail, asking me how I was holding up. She hadn’t sounded angry, but I’d left her a couple of voicemails in return and still had yet to connect with her. I hoped she wasn’t avoiding me on account of what had happened in Harbourtown, but I had the sense something was definitely up.
Nate’s voice bellowed out, breaking me out of my musings. “Maddy!” he exclaimed, pulling me into a bear hug once he reached me. Well, at least he didn’t seem to be upset with me, I thought, as I hugged him in return.
“What about that storm?” Nate asked, stepping back. “You and Adam lose electricity up on that end of the island too?”
“Yeah,” I answered, “but it came back on sometime before morning.”
He nodded and then shot me an odd look, like maybe he was contemplating saying something of more import. He had to have been aware of my current status as a murder suspect, but I doubted he, or Helena for that matter, really believed I was capable of something like that. Seeing that they were friends with Adam, I suspected they fully comprehended the nature of false accusations. There was so much I wanted to say, and I wanted to start by apologizing for involving Helena.
But when I started to say, “Nate, I’m sorry. If you and Helena—” He cut me off.
“Maddy,” he said softly, “whatever it is you’re going to say, just know that it can wait. We know you’re innocent. Nobody in this café suspects you of anything. Don’t lose sight of that.”
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I could only nod in response. I really wished Helena were there to tell me herself, but Nate’s words still meant a lot.
“Let’s change the subject,” Nate said, noticing my watery eyes. “So what brings you to the café today?”
I thought about asking where Helena was and if I could talk to her, but then I remembered my actual reason for being there. So instead I cleared my throat and inquired, “Has the ferry been around with the mail yet?”
Yep, best to get back on task. I’d talk with Helena later. Nate had pretty much confirmed she wasn’t mad at me, so I’d just catch up with her next visit.
Nate eyed me curiously, surely puzzled by my sudden urgent interest in postal delivery. “Yeah, it’s here,” he responded, taking a step back and reaching behind the counter to grab several parcels of mail. “Brody dropped it off a little while ago.” Handing me a small bundle of envelopes, he added, “You expecting something important?”
I froze and searched his face for some indication that he somehow knew what I was hoping to find in my small packet of mail. But it appeared Nate was just making conversation.
“Nah,” I answered in a controlled voice that belied how I really felt. “Just the usual bills.” I held up the bundle, giving him a clear view of the gas bill on the top.
Now that the mail was in my hands, I felt anxious. The photo could be in there, even behind the gas bill I’d showed Nate. But I couldn’t check right in front of him, so I made some excuse about needing to get back to Adam’s house to talk to Max about something. When Nate shot me another confused look, it dawned on me that I hadn’t seen Max all morning. Damn, I wasn’t even sure he was on the island today. Had he gone with Adam to Boston? I sure hoped he hadn’t, or Nate was really going to wonder about me. But Nate seemed back to normal as we said our farewells.
Once I was back in the Lexus, I paged through the bundle of mail, unable to wait another minute to see if the copy of the photo had arrived.
Bills, junk mail, a magazine, and then…
My pulse quickened as my fingertips grazed over the second envelope from the bottom. A plain white envelope—the same size as the one now sitting in a plastic evidence bag at the Harbourtown police station. This one happened to be addressed to me; Jimmy’s childlike printing etched in black ink across the front. But unlike the envelope I’d found at Billy’s, this one was not empty.
I stared down at the envelope in my trembling hands. And then a burst of paranoia coursed through me when I noticed Jimmy had printed a return address in the upper-left hand corner on the envelope. A return address for Billy’s. Oh Lord. I shot a sidelong glance toward the café. Had Nate seen the return address? Why hadn’t Jimmy put his home address on the envelope? Or better yet, not written anything at all in the return address area. As far as I was concerned, even the Harbourtown postmark was too much information for this particular piece of mail.
I couldn’t help but wonder who else had seen the envelope? Nate said Brody had brought the mail over in the morning, which meant it had been sorted and bundled over at Cove Beach. Had anyone else besides Brody had access to the mail today? Jennifer could have seen it. J.T. could have too. And Helena may have seen it if she’d been in the café earlier. Crap!
No matter who had seen it—and hopefully it was none of the above—it could prove to be dangerous for me. Apart from all of those individuals being potential suspects in Chelsea’s disappearance—which meant the guilty party would most likely guess what the envelope contained, especially if they’d played a part in Jimmy’s demise—it also didn’t bode well that I was the recipient of a letter from a guy I was suspected of killing. Yeah, that tidbit might prove to be too tasty to keep to oneself. Surely someone like J.T., or definitely Jennifer, would just love to go to the police and tell them Maddy Fitch was receiving letters from the man she may have murdered. Talk about incriminating.
I was starting to feel a little sick, and I still hadn’t even opened the damn thing. But just as I slipped my finger under the flap to tear it open, a rap to my car window made me jump in my seat, the envelope dropping to my lap.
I looked up to see Nate on the other side of the glass. “Everything all right in there?” he asked, his voice muffled coming through the closed car window.
I pressed a button, and the window descended. “I’m fine, thanks,” I said, my voice shaky.
Nate looked at me hard. I was sure the color had drained from my face, my eyes wide with the fear of being found out. Without breaking my gaze from Nate, I felt for the envelope, and once I had it, slipped it into a side pocket in my jacket. All the while I smiled, hopefully reassuringly, for Nate’s sake.
“OK,” he said at last. “I only came out to tell you Helena’s back. She saw you sitting out here in your car and wondered if you might want to come back in for a coffee.”
So Helena was around after all. Where had she been? At the bungalow? Had she walked right by me? I was parked directly in front of the café, but I’d been so preoccupied I wouldn’t have noticed. Oh God, had she seen me staring at the envelope from Jimmy? She could have been watching the whole time.
Damn, I needed to see who was in that picture, and I obviously wasn’t going to be able to do that in front of the café. Not now.
“Um, maybe I’ll stop back later,” I replied. “But I really do need to get back.”
Nate mumbled an “OK then,” and when he stepped away from the car, I got the hell out of there. Needless to say, I made
it back to Adam’s place in no time. When I stopped in front of the house, I put the car in park and breathed a sigh of relief. Safe at last.
But then I noticed something attached to the front door, a slip of paper fluttering in the breeze. For a moment I watched the lazy movement of the paper, and then, leaving the car idling, I went to check it out.
A thick piece of parchment paper had been taped to the door, a single sentence visible on the front. I peeled the paper from the wood surface. Nine words were written in Adam’s neat, concise scrawl.
Home early, meet me down at the lighthouse. Adam.
It seemed odd that he hadn’t written more, odd that he hadn’t signed it love, Adam. I shook my head to dispel my negativity. Surely this was part of Adam’s big surprise plan for today. It wasn’t his fault he had arrived home early on the day I’d finally received the mail I’d been waiting for. The letter weighing heavy in my pocket dampened the usual excitement I would have felt knowing Adam had something special planned for us. But at this moment, my mind was focused on one thing only—the photo in the envelope.
I couldn’t wait any longer to see who was in the picture. Not another minute. I ran back down to the Lexus, wrenched the door open, and sat back down. Pulse racing, mouth dry, I pulled the envelope from my jacket pocket. I flipped it over, tore the flap, pulled out the piece of copy paper, unfolded it…
No no no! It couldn’t be.
But the image before me wasn’t lying. With my mouth agape, I stared and stared. The envelope—now as empty as the one in evidence—fluttered to the floor.
Oh. My. God.
Finally I blinked. But I continued to stare at the image of the Polaroid photo Jimmy had copied. It depicted exactly what he had claimed it would—an image of a blonde woman clearly making out with Chelsea Hannigan. Maybe it had all been part of a bet, but neither party appeared to be just “goofing around.” They both looked like they were into it. Way into it. Well, maybe the blonde more so than Chelsea.
And I knew that blonde. I could deny it all I wanted, but the image showed the truth. The mystery woman was a mystery no longer. The mystery woman had been my best friend in high school. And she was currently missing. Yes, the blonde mystery woman kissing Chelsea Hannigan was none other than Ami Dubois-Hensley. And what did that mean?
Ami had been involved with Chelsea, obviously. Did that mean Ami knew what happened to her? God, had she done something to her? But Ami was missing now as well, so maybe she’d known too much. Maybe someone had silenced Ami. Is that why she’d been trying to protect me? Was she afraid that if I knew what she knew, then I’d be in danger of disappearing too? But what had Ami known?
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the photo and what it depicted. This was the reason Jimmy was dead. Why was it so imperative that this picture remain undiscovered?
I shoved the photo back into my jacket pocket and started toward the lighthouse.
Adam.
How did he fit into all of this? Had he known who was in the photo all along? Was that the reason he’d downplayed its significance? Or would he be just as surprised as I was to find out who was in this picture with Chelsea?
I couldn’t imagine Adam keeping Ami on as an employee if he’d know about her and his fiancée. Or was his involvement much more insidious? I was sickened as I imagined all the ways Adam could possibly be a part of this. And if he were, then I’d been played thoroughly…and set up perfectly to take the fall.
As I neared the lighthouse, heavy clouds rolled in, eclipsing the sun. I passed the café, but it was dark inside, the sign on the door flipped to display the “closed” side. Weird, it had been open less than an hour ago. Why was it closed now?
I drove until I reached the end of the road, parking the car close to the edge of the sidewalk where it was only a short walk to the top of the steep, uneven steps that trailed precariously down the side of the cliff. I got out of the car, walked the path I’d traveled with Adam weeks ago. When I reached the edge, I looked down. A fog had rolled in over the dark rocks, engulfing the base of the tall, looming lighthouse in the distance.
Here goes nothing, I thought.
Carefully I began the descent, negotiating my way down the slippery, worn steps. A gust of icy November air cut through my thin jacket, making me shiver. The temperature was dropping, the winds picking up in intensity. When I finally reached the base of the steps, I had to fight the urge to turn around and head back to get a heavier coat. But I forged ahead, knowing that Adam was waiting in the lighthouse.
This may be Adam’s surprise, I thought, but I have a surprise of my own. Far from forgetting about everything that had happened over the past several days, as had been the plan, we were going to face it.
That’s right. I had every intention of showing Adam the photo. In fact, I was banking on his reaction to determine just how much he’d known, and possibly kept from me, all this time.
Resolved, and with surprising dexterity, I navigated the slippery, oily-black surfaces of the rocks, closer and closer to the lighthouse. The dark waves crashed all around me, and through a thin veil of fog, I saw a flickering of golden illumination streaming through the small lighthouse windows. Candles, perhaps?
Adam had promised something special. Maybe he’d managed to set up a romantic dinner in the structure. He could have easily instructed Max to make the necessary preparations while he’d been flying back. Maybe that was why I hadn’t seen Max all day?
High tide was coming in, and the waves—now black as a velvet night in the dying light of day—continued to crash over the imposing rocky terrain. It was totally desolate down here. What the hell was I doing? I could be walking right into a trap. What if Adam wasn’t even here yet? But then who was waiting in the lighthouse?
I kept on walking, dismissing those crazy thoughts. I reached the sandy path that snaked to the lighthouse entrance. No matter what, I sought the truth. I’d come too far. I was on the cusp of losing a lot. And if my worst fears were realized, meaning the man I loved was involved in all of this, I’d end up losing it all.
I reached the door, and with that thought, I grabbed the cold metal handle and pushed it open. I took a tentative step into the dim, candlelit interior.
The feeling of unease I’d experienced when I’d first visited the lighthouse returned with a vengeance. Something was dreadfully wrong. Every instinct screamed for me to turn back. But I couldn’t walk away now. Even if it meant sacrificing my own sense of self-preservation, I was going in.
I breathed in the heavy, salt-tinged air and entered the lighthouse, ready to accept whatever fate had in store for me.
Chapter 27
Stepping into the lighthouse, the first thing I noticed was how many candles were illuminating the interior. Dozens and dozens of them, votives in glass cups placed up and down the winding, iron staircase. The flames flickered rapidly, as if they’d been angered by my intrusion. What struck me most was that there was nothing romantic about this setup. All of the candles were black, and the sinister, jaundiced glow they were casting against the pale lighthouse interior was nothing short of eerie.
The heavy, metal door clanged shut behind me with finality, my fate sealed. And just then a person stepped out from behind the staircase, looking not the least bit surprised to see me. I couldn’t say the same. Here was the missing person everyone was looking for. And it wasn’t Chelsea. No, it was Ami Hensley.
What is she doing here? I thought. Then I feared this was where she was being held captive. But as I glanced around furtively, I realized we were the only two.
“Expecting Adam?” Ami drawled, tossing her long, blonde hair back with a flick of her wrist. She then dipped a hand into the front pocket of her raincoat. The same powder-blue coat she’d worn the day we’d first taken the ferry from Cove Beach to Fade Island. But unlike that time, Ami’s stomach was now perfectly flat
. No fake-pregnancy bump today.
My mind raced to assess the scene before me. Well, well, well. Ami was not only the mystery blonde in the Polaroid photo with Chelsea, but she was obviously not missing after all. Had we all been duped by a crazy person?
“Ami, I, uh,” I stammered, at a loss for verbal coherency, at first. But then I pulled it together. “What are you doing here? Everyone thinks you’re—”
“Missing? Dead?” she finished for me, sounding bored. “Nope, as you can see, I’m alive and well.”
Had she faked her own disappearance? To what end?
“I don’t understand,” I said, truly confused.
Ami sighed and took another step closer. Now both of her hands were stuffed into the front pockets of her raincoat. Odd. But what really gave me pause was how fake her plastered-on smile appeared to be. Instinctively I took a step back as she came closer still. There was something very wrong with her expression.
“What don’t you understand, Maddy?” Ami cooed. I didn’t answer, and she continued, “In light of recent, shall we say, events, I needed to lay low. See how things played out. Know what I mean?”
I had no idea what she was babbling about. Why would Ami need to “lay low”? And see how what played out? One thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t care to stick around any longer. I didn’t know why Ami—and not Adam—was here at the lighthouse. I had no idea why Ami would fake her own disappearance. But it seemed the longer I stuck around, the more likely this bizarre situation could become volatile. And I didn’t want that.
“Look, Ami, I’m leaving. I don’t know what you’re up to, and to tell you the truth, I don’t care. I came down here to meet Adam, but obviously he and I got our signals crossed—”