Harbour Falls (34 page)

When I turned back, both Adam and my dad were watching me. I supposed they were waiting to see what my next move would be. And it was this: I asked Adam for a few moments alone with my dad. He nodded, shot a parting look of aggravation to my father, and then joined Hoffman in the hall. When the door clicked shut, I turned to face my irate dad. His eyes held all the disappointment I’d expected to see. Maybe more. He’d obviously been briefed, and I was sure no detail had been spared.

“Dad,” I whispered, dropping my eyes to the floor in shame.

My father cleared his throat and said softly, “Madeleine, what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into? This whole thing is just some kind of a misunderstanding, right?”

“Of course,” I reassured him. “But I can’t explain everything just yet.”

My dad’s brow creased. “I hope you’re not withholding information from the detectives.” He sounded bewildered, an emotion he rarely expressed. “I’ve known those guys for years. They’ll do right by you, sweetheart, but you have to level with them. Tell them everything. They don’t believe you really hurt that boy.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, especially when it came to Detective Crowley. I must have looked skeptical, because my dad reiterated, “You can’t keep secrets, Madeleine. These men can help you only if you’re honest with them.”

“I will tell them, uh, everything,” I said without conviction, and then added in a whisper, “Later.”

My dad obviously didn’t hear my last word, because he launched into his next order of business. “How does Adam Ward fit into all of this?”

I started off by explaining that I was actually in a relationship with Adam—a relationship that was getting serious. But, as expected, this hardly comforted my father.

“Maddy, you promised me you’d stay away from that guy. And now you’re telling me you’re involved with the man? Unbelievable.” He shook his head disapprovingly.

“Dad, yes,” I hesitated and then just laid it on the line. “I’m in love with Adam. And he loves me. I’m sorry if that hurts you, but it’s the truth.”

“But, honey, he may be a murder—”

I held my hand up, stopping him in mid-sentence. “Don’t say it. Please. I can’t hear it from you.” I begged with my eyes. “He’s not who you think he is.”

My father looked doubtful but held his tongue, so I continued, “Look at what’s happening to me right now. You see how easy it is for someone to become a suspect for something they had nothing to do with…” I trailed off, and then the tears began to fall.

My father pulled me into a hug. “I love you, Maddy.” He patted my back. “I’m just worried.”

“I know,” I mumbled. “I love you, too, but you’re going to have to trust me on this one.”

The mayor and I ended up reaching a truce. As long as I didn’t ask for his outright blessing, he’d refrain from voicing his objections to my burgeoning relationship, particularly in the presence of Adam.

Speaking of Adam, I was anxious to reunite. But when we opened the door and stepped into the hallway, neither he nor my attorney were there. I told my dad I’d check for them in the front lobby, but the mayor said he had something he needed to do elsewhere in the station—speak with Detectives Mitchell and Crowley. Presumably to find out exactly where they stood on the question of my guilt, and I was sure he wanted to see what he could do to assuage their suspicions.

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?”