Harbour Falls (2 page)

Ami cast a doubtful glance my way, but before she could persist in her matchmaking attempt, I pointed to the ferry and said, “It’s after two. We’d better get going.”

The half-hour ride through the choppy waters to Fade Island was mostly silent, Ami and I lost in our own thoughts. Jennifer Weston, the slender, pale girl who’d been messing with the ropes, didn’t say anything more to us than she absolutely had to. A number of times when I glanced over at the ferry pilot’s house, I caught her glaring at me. But I had no idea why.

Before today I’d never had contact with her. She’d gone to school at Harbour Falls High but graduated a few years before me. Still, I knew who she was. How could I not? Jennifer had been married for two years to my other best friend back in high school, J.T. O’Brien. I hadn’t kept in touch with J.T. after leaving Harbour Falls, but I heard a lot about him from my dad. And what he told me wasn’t good.

A few years back, J.T. had gotten into trouble with the law—some kind of drug and alcohol charge. After a stint in rehab, he surprised everyone by marrying Jennifer. She’d always had a thing for J.T., but he’d never shown any interest in her. So when they ran off to Vegas for a quickie wedding, nobody could figure out why. My father said there was speculation that she’d gotten knocked up. But nine months came…and went…with no baby.

All of this occurred during the spring and summer before my final year at Yale. At the time I was interning at a publishing house in New York, so I didn’t pay too much attention to the updates from home. When I returned to college that fall, I met Julian. And once we were together, I hardly kept up with the Harbour Falls gossip. Following a quick visit back for Ami and Sean’s wedding the following summer, Julian and I moved to Los Angeles. I embarked on my writing career, and soon my life was too busy to worry about people from my past. Except for the occasional, short holiday visit home, this whole area had fallen off my radar completely.

Well, maybe not
completely
.

There was one huge Harbour Falls Mystery—as the press had dubbed it—I could not avoid hearing about. The story even dominated the national news for a time. And inevitably, mostly on book tours and during interviews, I was asked for
my
thoughts regarding the case. I imagined people were curious for two reasons. One, I was from Harbour Falls, a primary location involved in the mystery. And two, I was a crime and mystery novelist, and the facts of the case mirrored the kinds of things I wrote about.

Only my cases were purely fictional, so my standard response had always been the same:
I have no interest in real-life cases
. And that had been true. But it no longer was; things were about to change.

The Harbour Falls Mystery was the real reason I was here. I had every intention of basing my next novel on the facts of the case. I was tired of fiction; I wanted to write a true crime novel. Plus there was a little part of me—the detective that lurks in all of us—that dreamed of
solving
this case.

But nobody knew that this case held more than a professional interest for me. Not because the main locale was Harbour Falls, and not because the mystery involved the disappearance of a local I’d once known. And, truth be told, had once envied. Nor was it the fact that this local, Chelsea Hannigan, had gone missing the night before her wedding. Scandalous, though it was.

What piqued my curiosity was the man Chelsea had been on the verge of marrying—Adam Ward. He was the man at the center of the mystery. He was the man whose life had been altered when Chelsea disappeared, after he was named as the number one suspect.

What role, if any, had he played in her disappearance? Though never formally charged, many believed he was far from innocent.

Well I was here to uncover the truth. There was just one small problem.

Contrary to what I’d told Ami, I
was
interested in Adam Ward. Still. Despite how ridiculous I knew it was, I couldn’t wait to run into Adam. Would he even remember me? Maybe not. But I wasn’t the shy girl I’d been back then.

Of course I was playing with fire. If he ever suspected I was investigating him in order to research my new novel, he’d hardly be pleased. I might even see firsthand just how supposedly dangerous he could be.

At the thought, a little shudder ran through me. Whether it was due to fear, excitement, or both, I wasn’t sure. I knew I should analyze it and get my head straight before I ended up in trouble.

But I’d run out of time. Because the fog began to lift, and in the distance, Fade Island came into view.

Ami was already way ahead, standing next to a sleek, black luxury sedan that looked remarkably similar to the car Adam Ward had once driven in high school.
Weird.
Ami had mentioned all of the cottages included an automobile for the tenant to use to travel about the island. Maybe this one, a Lexus, was going to be mine? Did that mean the cottage I was about to view—and possibly rent—was owned by Adam? Did he own
all
the cottages then? Maybe he’d just donated the car? From what I’d read, he could certainly afford such an act of generosity.

Picking up the pace, I caught up with Ami just as she was opening the car door on the driver’s side. “What the hell is the Weston girl’s problem with me?” I complained, still shaken by Jennifer’s actions and hoping for a little compassion from my former friend. “So much for a warm welcome back.”

“Try not to take it personally, Maddy. She’s always like that,” Ami said, her tone unusually dismissive.

Ooo-kay
, I thought as we got into the car.

“By the way, this car comes with the cottage I’ll be showing you today.”
Guess that answers that question
. But I just could not bring myself to ask if this car was the same one Adam had once driven. I also nixed the compulsion to elaborate on the veiled threat Jennifer had whispered to me. Ami didn’t seem willing to discuss it anyway. It was probably better to keep as many people out of my troubles as possible, especially my clueless, very pregnant, and once-upon-a-time best friend.

Ami pressed the gas pedal, and we surged up a steep, paved grade leading away from the blacktop parking lot. We turned left onto a neat and tidy cobblestone lane. The misty rain had abated but not the winds. A decorative brass sign with letters spelling out
Main Street
oscillated atop a fluted post on the corner. We drove by and slowly made our way along Main Street.

Colorful, two-story storefronts stood on both sides of the road: a teal-blue hardware store, a general store painted the color of a freshly unfurled spring leaf, a store selling candy—the pink exterior a perfect match to the bubble gum advertised on a placard in the window. All the businesses were closed for the season. The proprietors, who generally lived in the second-floor apartments, had gone back over to the mainland. We passed darkened building after darkened building until we reached the last one on the left.

A cute, olive-colored affair with a paned picture window and an awning big enough to shelter patrons from the rain was not closed. The scalloped front edge of the dark green awning flapped erratically in the wind, intermittently obscuring the bright white lettering that read:
Café
. The lights inside blazed. Aha, this was where the fisherman with the lobster boat would be procuring his coffee.

“Why’s that one not closed for the season?” I asked Ami, pointing to a small sign in the window that was turned to the side that proclaimed it was
open.

“Nate’s wife, Helena, keeps it open year-round. She runs the place. The fishermen passing by the island appreciate a place where they can stop and grab a cup of coffee. Besides, there are always people going back and forth, even during the off-season.” Ami slowed to a crawl. “The café is also where you’ll pick up your mail. It comes over every weekday on the ferry. And you can order groceries through Nate and Helena. I don’t know if your dad told you, but Nate’s the manager of Fade Island.”

I nodded absently, because I
had
already heard that from my dad. And I found it odd. Nate had been almost as adept as Adam at things like computer programming and software development. In fact, I recalled a time that together they’d hacked into the school computers and changed all the grades. So why was Nate just “managing” this island? Or was it some kind of cover?

Ami cleared her throat and, in a worried voice, asked, “You do remember Nate and Helena from high school, right?”

“Of course I remember them,” I replied.

And I did. Quite well in fact. In addition to his skill with all things computer-related, Nate had been the star quarterback for the football team—big, muscular, mocha-colored skin, amiable brown eyes. Yeah, he was a good-looking guy. And one of the nicest. I remembered him always trying to make me laugh. He had a legendary sense of humor.

Back then and apparently now, based on their close proximity, Nate and Adam had been best friends. And they’d been teammates. With cheering crowds of Harbour Falls residents—myself included—Nate Jackson had thrown many a winning touchdown to his top wide receiver, Adam Ward.

Helena, who had dated Nate since sophomore year, was his perfect match—friendly and fun to be around. With her model-like looks—beautiful, long legs, blonde hair, and big, expressive blue eyes—it would have been easy to hate her. But quite the opposite was true; everyone adored her. In fact, she and Nate were voted “Most Perfect Couple” senior year.

But things were far from perfect for Helena. Following her parents’ particularly unpleasant divorce, her mother met and married what seemed like the first guy who came along. Helena was just fourteen. At first her new stepdad appeared to be an average guy in almost every way: average looks, average build, average job. He even had an average name, Ron. He was the kind of guy people passed on the street and forgot about a second later.

But Ron’s anger wasn’t average. He had a violent temper, and before long the whole town bore witness to the bruises his rages left on Helena and her mother. After all, even the best makeup doesn’t always conceal a black eye.

Thankfully, during her freshman year away at college, Helena’s stepdad left her mom, taking off for places unknown with no explanation. The general sentiment was
good riddance
. At the time Helena had been attending the University of Maine with Ami. In fact, she and Ami shared not just a dorm but a room as well.

At the end of freshman year, though, Helena quit college and moved down to Massachusetts to be closer to Nate. He was attending, and playing football for, Boston College. They were married in a small, private ceremony shortly thereafter. And that was it. I’d heard nothing more. It was strange to think that they’d ended up living out here on secluded Fade Island. Something to look into, for sure.

Ami resumed her slow crawl up toward the northern boundary of Main Street, to where it turned into a paved, two-lane road twisting through the forest on the west side of the island.

Ami was pointing to an olive-colored bungalow adjacent to the café, so I focused my attention back on the here and now. “That’s Nate and Helena’s house,” she said.

The home was fairly large, with an elaborately landscaped front lawn. “But Helena spends most of the day at the café,” Ami continued. “If you’re trying to catch her, always check there before you go anywhere else. She’s almost always there.”

Another bungalow, this one smaller and also painted olive-green, sat directly across from Nate and Helena’s. “Who lives there?” I asked.

“Max,” Ami replied. “He was in the military a while back, did a few tours of duty. But now he handles security here on the island.”

“Is he a police officer for Harbour Falls then?” I asked, knowing Fade Island, though privately owned, still fell under the Harbour Falls jurisdiction.

“Uh, I think so,” Ami answered, picking up speed. “I don’t know all the details of his qualifications or whatever. But he provides security for the island, its residents, and any visitors.”

Spoken like a true real estate agent.
Uh-huh
, I thought,
sure
. It sounded more to me like “security for the island” was code for “security for Adam Ward.” But I let it drop.

Thinking of Adam, I asked, “Hey, wasn’t Helena friends with Chelsea at one time? Isn’t that how Adam originally met her?”

The car bucked as Ami wavered on the gas. “Um, I
think
that’s how they met. I’m not exactly sure.” For whatever reason, she seemed irritated. “But, to be honest, I wouldn’t ask too many questions about Chelsea around here.”
Around here?
Did she mean on the island or the entire area in general?

“Sure,” I replied, hesitant to ask for elaboration for fear this line of conversation might lead to me blowing my cover.

Besides, I remembered plenty about Chelsea Hannigan. And really who could forget? She had attended a private school in Harbourtown, a neighboring town of Harbour Falls located a few miles inland. For as beautiful as Helena was, Chelsea had her beat. No contest. If Helena could be described as a model, then Chelsea was a supermodel.