Harbour Falls (36 page)

And as I drifted off to sleep, I prayed that in the meantime no one else would turn up missing…or dead.

The next morning, I woke up fully clothed, still wrapped in my comforter cocoon. From the impression in the pillow next to mine, it was apparent Adam had slept in here with me. I mentally kicked myself for sleeping so soundly. No wonder our physical relationship was stalled. I was just as much to blame—missed opportunities and all that.

Reluctantly emerging from my cocoon, I reached up to the side of the headboard and pushed one of several buttons. The heavy curtains covering the large windows began to pull back, revealing a mass of storm clouds darkening the horizon. The big storm that had been forecasted was on its way, the island blanketed in near darkness.

I snatched up the remote control and turned on the television. The same local news channel was on, and new reports were being broadcast. Ami’s white SUV flashed up on the screen. I turned up the volume. Her abandoned vehicle had been found at a small convenience store in Cove Beach. The same place Chelsea had last been seen.
Weird
. But, unlike that case, the vehicle was parked out of the range of the surveillance camera. I wondered if that had been done purposely. But why? Why would Ami park her vehicle out of sight? Or had someone else, knowing the camera’s range, parked it there?

But what had happened to Ami? The report made no mention of her stopping in the store to buy anything. So why had she been there? That store wasn’t far from the dock, so had she walked to the ferry? Had she still been planning on taking the ferry and meeting up with me? If J.T. were to be believed, he hadn’t seen her. Or, had he?

The news update ended, and I flipped the television off. One thing that had changed overnight—despite it still being less than forty-eight hours since Ami’s disappearance—was that the police were now involved. The missing person’s report on last night’s news had ensured it. Sean had Adam to thank for that.

After showering and dressing, I went downstairs. Adam was sitting at the breakfast table, drinking a cup of coffee, and pecking away on a laptop. He wore jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt, so I assumed he was working from home today. I spent an extra minute admiring how good he looked, his hair still wet from his shower and blacker than ever, but then I grabbed some coffee for myself and sat down across from him at the long breakfast bar.

“Have you seen the news reports?” I asked.

Adam looked up from whatever he was working on. “Yeah, I have.”

Knowing that Adam had inside sources—such as Max—I asked him if the police knew more than what was being reported. He said no, they knew nothing more. And then, seeing the troubled look on my face, he tried to comfort me by telling me he truly believed Ami would surely turn up soon—alive and well.

In that moment I realized just how much Ami’s mental diagnosis tended to color Adam’s opinion of her. He saw her as a victim. But not of foul play. No, Adam seemed to view Ami as a victim of her own mind. I heard the pity in his tone and suddenly knew why he’d kept her on as his employee for so many years. Sure she was competent enough to perform her job duties, but it was more than that. Adam felt sorry for her. Maybe even to the point of obligation. Ami probably sensed that. I supposed that was why she had so fervently defended Adam the first day I’d traveled with her over to the island. I just hoped she wasn’t in some way taking advantage of Adam’s kindness toward her.

Adam closed his laptop and said something about needing to go make some calls. I wanted to say something to let him know I was ready to move forward with him. I needed him, wanted him, craved him, and I was through with being coddled. So I sat my coffee cup down and said, “You should have woken me last night.” I tried to catch his gaze but couldn’t. “When you came to bed,” I added, stressing the last word.

He eyed me tentatively. “You needed the sleep.”

“Don’t baby me, Adam,” I replied tersely, rising to dump the rest of my coffee into the sink.

He moved toward me, his voice softening. “Maddy.”

“Just…” I waved him away, and he released a held breath.

A moment passed, neither of us moving. And then he retreated, departing, I assumed, for the study to make his calls.

Well, that had gone well. Not.

Too restless to concentrate on much of anything, I meandered around the house—making the bed, fluffing the pillows, wandering the long halls. At last I found myself at the closed door to the study. I wanted to talk to Adam, fix things from earlier, so I raised my hand to knock.

But before I had the chance, Adam opened the door. “Maddy,” he said, “I was just coming to look for you.”

From the look on Adam’s face, I knew something was up. When I asked him that very question, he didn’t respond directly. Instead he moved aside and asked me to come in. A loud thunderclap reverberated—making me jump—as I stepped across the threshold.

As he sat back down behind his desk, Adam appeared to be less than amused when I laughed at my own skittishness. “Madeleine, why is your cell phone turned off?” he snapped, while leaning back in his chair.

“It’s charging,” I responded, taking a few steps closer to the desk. “Why?”

“Hoffman has been trying to reach you all morning.”

A sick feeling came over me, and I shifted from one foot to the other. “Why? What’s going on?”

Adam closed his eyes and was silent for a minute.
Oh, this is going to be bad
.

When he opened his eyes, he said quietly, “The police want to talk to you.” He hesitated. “It’s about Ami’s disappearance.”

“What?” I murmured as I sank into the leather chair across from him. “They don’t think…?” I couldn’t finish my sentence.

Adam raked his fingers through his hair. “Besides Sean, you were the last person to speak with Ami. And the authorities know she was on her way to see you.”

“Adam, this can’t be happening.” I covered my face with my hands.

Before I knew it, Adam was kneeling in front of me. I felt a tug at my hands and intertwined them with his. “Shhh,” he soothed, warming my hands in his own. “It’s just another formality, nothing to worry about. Hoffman will be here with the detective—”

“They’re coming
here
?” I interrupted, just as another low rumble of thunder rolled ominously overhead.

“Yes, but it’ll just be Detective Mitchell.” Adam eyed me carefully, probably to make sure I fully comprehended that the nicer of the two detectives—Mitchell, not Crowley—would be the one questioning me. I nodded, and he continued, “And remember, Hoffman will be here as well.”

Adam hesitated, and I knew there was more. Sure enough, he said, “Maddy, you should know that the Harbour Falls police are now working with the Harbourtown PD on this one.”

“’Cause they think it’s connected to Jimmy, right?” I stated dully. “They suspect me in both cases. Oh, Adam, this is bad.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he reminded me. “Just let Hoffman do most of the talking. It won’t take long. Less than an hour, I’m sure, and then it will be over.”

Adam knew the drill with these things. No surprise there, since he’d been through a number of interrogations and questionings of his own over the years.

“So when will they be here?” I asked, suddenly feeling queasy at the prospect of more questions—questions to which I had no real answers. Or rather answers that I couldn’t divulge.

Adam tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Soon, another hour. Maybe less, since they want to get this wrapped up before the storm hits.”

The huge storm that had been in the forecast was promising to deliver a knockout punch by evening. A streak of lightning flashed across the sky, and both Adam and I turned to the window just in time to watch it sizzle into the sea.

Yeah, a storm was brewing, and it was promising to be a big one.

Max drove Detective Mitchell and Elliott Hoffman up to Adam’s compound following their arrival to Fade Island. Max took a seat in the foyer, while Adam ushered Hoffman, Mitchell, and me into his study. Detective Mitchell looked unsure when Adam offered his stately desk chair to him, but he sat down, nonetheless, and set up a small recorder after taking out his trusty notepad and pen.

Hoffman and I settled in the seats across from Mitchell, and Adam leaned casually against the wall by the door. The detective seemed about to say something, probably to ask Adam to leave, but held off when their eyes met in a meaningful stare. The implication was clear: Adam may have graciously given up his chair, but the trade-off was that he would be staying for the questioning.

Clearing his throat and focusing his attention back on me, Detective Mitchell said, “I’m sorry to be bothering you again, Miss Fitch, but this has to be done. I promise to keep it short.”

I gave him a tight smile and nodded. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

Hoffman shifted in his seat, and Mitchell got down to it, mumbling some preliminaries into his recorder and then asking, “Are you acquainted with a female named Ami Dubois-Hensley?”

“Yes.” I didn’t wait for Hoffman’s go-ahead, since I saw no harm in answering this type of question.

“Would you consider her to be a friend?”

I mulled that one over, but had to say, “Yes.”

“How long have you been friends?”

“Since high school,” I replied. “I guess that puts it at more than ten years, probably around fourteen years.”

Detective Mitchell continued, “Actually, she was your best friend in high school, correct?”

Who told you that?
I thought, but instead said, “Yes, she was.”

Mitchell scribbled something down, even though the light on the voice recorder indicated I was being taped. “Did you have occasion to speak to Ami Hensley on the phone yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember what time it was?”

“Um, before noon.”

“How did she seem when you spoke to her?”

I glanced at Hoffman, and he nodded. “Um, she seemed normal,” I said.

“Mr. Hensley stated that his wife was on her way to visit you here on the island when she disappeared. Is this correct?”

A distracted nod from Hoffman, who appeared preoccupied with taking notes of his own. But I somehow knew he was acutely aware of everything. So I answered, “Yes, that’s correct.”

“What was the nature of this visit, Miss Fitch?” The detective’s voice grew tight, and I knew we were getting down to the heart of the matter. He was hoping to get some kind of lead on this case—catch me up on something, see what I knew.

I opened my mouth and then closed it. I debated whether or not to mention the scratch I’d seen on J.T.’s arm, something I had yet to relay to Adam. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it until I knew if it meant more, so I was ready to let it go. Some part of me wanted to let this play out, get the answers on my own, but then my dad’s words came back to me.

I started to speak, but Hoffman silenced me with a light touch to my arm. “Detective Mitchell” he said in his smooth lawyer voice, “my client is not required to answer that question. The context of the visit was, no doubt, personal and not related to the case. Therefore, Ms. Fitch will not be responding to that question at this time.”

I nodded in agreement since I had waffled on whether to answer or not. Mitchell conceded with a sigh, “As you wish.”

Hoffmann had no idea why Ami had been on her way to visit me, but I supposed he didn’t care. In any case I was kind of glad there were no more direct questions for me. Mitchell and my attorney continued to speak, arguing over what kinds of questions were appropriate and what were not. It seemed to go on forever.

I soon tuned out their voices, opting instead to stare out the window and watch the play of lightning across an ever-darkening sky. Ultimately we were at nature’s mercy, weren’t we? It made me wonder what control we really had. Was it all an illusion? The study felt further and further away as I lost myself in the vivid display until, bringing me back to the here and now, Adam came up from behind me. Touching my shoulder gently, he murmured, “Maddy?”

I glanced around. Detective Mitchell and Hoffman had evidently departed without my even realizing it. “How long have I been sitting here?” I asked.

“Just a few minutes,” Adam said. “You looked like you needed some time just to think. Mitchell and Hoffman said good-bye, but it didn’t look like you even heard them. Do you want to talk?”

“Not really,” I said truthfully, standing. “I just feel so tired.”

And I was tired. Tired of being a suspect, tired of police interrogations, tired of not having the right answers. Adam’s fingers traced down my cheek to my chin, and then he tilted my head up to meet his gaze. “Why don’t you go upstairs, get some rest?”

Our eyes met, and something passed between us. Something unspoken, something unmistakable. “Are you coming up?” I asked, but I was really asking for so much more.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Promise?” I murmured, losing myself in his eyes.

“Promise,” he replied.

I made my way to Adam’s bedroom in a daze of sorts. With one hand on the bed to balance myself, I kicked off my shoes. And then I peeled off my jeans, leaving only my panties and long-sleeved tee on before crawling under the covers. I buried myself in the downy comforter, the pile of blankets. I needed to forget, if only for a moment. So I shut everything out, it was easy to do with the storm. Darkness had descended, the winds roared ferociously, and the rain sheeted relentlessly against the windows. The storm had arrived in full force.

Turning to lay on my back, I stared at the ceiling and pulled distractedly at the hem of my sleeve. And then reality came rushing back. So I went over all that had happened while flashes of lightning played like a strobe light against the walls around me. Where was Ami? And who had murdered Jimmy? There had to be a connection. I had that feeling again—like when Julian had arrived on the island—the feeling that someone was pulling strings like a puppet master. But this time, instead of having my ex-boyfriend pay me a visit, this person was making it look like I was involved with Jimmy’s murder
and
Ami’s disappearance. It was too much of a coincidence. But who would be able to orchestrate such a thing? And why? Had I gotten too close to the truth? Was this person, whomever it was, trying to silence me?

I shuddered just as a huge bolt of lightning lit up the entire room, illuminating Adam standing in the doorway. “Adam,” I gasped, sucking in a breath of air. “You scared me.”

In a beat he was on the bed, above me, his arms a cage around me. My heart beat wildly, fear morphing to excitement. “Are you afraid now,” Adam asked, blue eyes clouded with desire.

“Maybe a little,” I replied, my breathing quickening in anticipation.

Adam chuckled darkly while dropping to his elbows. His lips grazed mine, and I responded. Our mouths moved together, slowly at first, lingering and kind of sweet, but soon our kisses grew desperate, hungry. This is what we both needed, what we both wanted.

Finding the hem of his shirt, I fisted my hand in the cotton material, my knuckles skimming his abdomen. Adam sucked in a breath and found my eyes. “It isn’t going to be gentle, Madeleine. I’ve waited too long, we’ve waited too long.”

“I don’t want it to be gentle,” I rasped.

And I didn’t, so I raked my nails up his back to show him how much I wanted it. How hard I wanted it. Adam hissed and yanked the shirt he was wearing over his head, flinging it to the floor. And then his lips crashed into mine in a flurry of hot, wet, frenzied kisses. Somehow my shirt, my bra, my panties, he peeled them off while we kissed like our lives depended on it. I don’t know, maybe they did. And then it was Adam’s turn—his clothes, discarded in a flash.