Detective Mitchell was getting ready to go, when I suddenly remembered that my dad had told me the police had taken a statement from J.T. O’Brien. Mostly to find out what he’d known of Jennifer’s involvement in the mystery. So I asked, “What about J.T. O’Brien? Was he involved in any way?”
Detective Mitchell shook his head and surprised me by saying, “No, not at all.”
My eyes met Adam’s. We’d not been able to find the location where I’d witnessed J.T. burying something over on the east side of the island, even when we’d driven back down with Max yesterday. The recent storms had left the area in shambles. Trees downed everywhere, ruts in the access road turned into gushing torrents. It had been impossible to discern where J.T. had been digging. I’d told Adam I wanted to try again, but he stood firm, insisting that whatever J.T. had been doing, it had nothing to do with the case. Now it appeared he’d been right.
Adam’s gaze held mine, and I was sure he wanted to convey that it was time to scrap any further plans to locate that spot.
Well, we’d see about that.
Detective Mitchell, noticing our silent communication, cleared his throat. Adam and I both looked away. “Uh, one more thing you may be interested in hearing.” My eyes returned to the detective. “O’Brien admitted himself to an eight-week rehab program over in Bangor. He’s pretty broken up about this whole thing, and I guess he wants to start fresh.”
Adam had told me he’d heard from his sources—probably Max—that J.T. wasn’t taking it particularly well that Chelsea Hannigan had been murdered by his ex-wife. For as much as I was no fan of J.T.’s, I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. After all, Chelsea had influenced the path he’d taken. Unfortunately for him, he had really loved her.
Now that Jennifer was dead, Brody stood to inherit Jennifer’s half of the business, so he and J.T. would be the sole owners of the ferry service. If J.T. could finally get help with his addiction, maybe he’d find his way after all. I knew somewhere behind all that vitriol was the kind, gentle J.T. I’d once known and cared for.
I was sure Adam was less concerned with J.T.’s well-being, but he was still thoughtful enough to state, “Maybe O’Brien can finally get sober now that he can put all of this behind him.”
I knew he was speaking for my benefit, so I whispered a heartfelt, “Maybe.”
Detective Mitchell left shortly thereafter. I sat for a bit longer in the study just thinking. Adam walked the detective to the door, and when he returned, he pulled the chair next to me close and sat down. “You holding up?” he asked, taking my hand in one of his own.
I breathed out. “I think so. It’s just been a lot to take in.”
“I know,” Adam soothed, his thumb caressing the back of my hand. “What can I do to make things better?”
I closed my eyes for a few seconds. “I think…I think I need a break from Fade Island. I don’t know. Maybe get away for a few days.”
“Are you sure you don’t need a break from me?” Adam asked, and though his tone was light, I saw sadness in his expression when I opened my eyes.
“Of course not,” I exclaimed, placing my free hand on his cheek and capturing his gaze. “I love you, Adam. I just want to get away for a little while. But not alone. I want us to go somewhere together.”
Relief washed over his features, and he said softly, “Wherever you want to go, Maddy, just tell me.” A grin formed on his lips. “After all, we have a plane at our disposal…as well as a pilot.”
For all of the places I could choose—exotic locales, world-famous cities—there was only one that called to me. A place that was the antithesis of all that was wet and cold, a place far away from this island. “I want to go to Los Angeles,” I said.
Adam appeared surprised, so I elaborated. “You can see where I live. You can meet my agent, Katie. She’s my best friend out there. I want to share with you what my life is like in California.”
“I’d like that,” Adam replied, smiling.
“Speaking of meeting important people in our lives,” I started. Adam cocked a curious eyebrow, and I continued, “When do I get to meet your parents?”
Back when I’d lived in Harbour Falls, I’d seen Dr. Ward and his elegant wife around town from time to time. But I never really knew them. But now, being involved with their only son, it seemed important to do so.
“I wasn’t aware you were all that interested in meeting my parents,” Adam replied.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course I want to meet them. After all, they did produce you,” I teased.
Now it was Adam’s turn to roll his eyes. “Fair enough,” he said. “Last I spoke with my dad he said they were in San Francisco. We can fly up there from LA.”
I was happy with that, but there was another thing weighing on me. And it had been since the resolution of the mystery. I wondered what was next for us, for our relationship. Where did Adam and I go from here? Though I had an idea for a new book, I wasn’t sure
where
I’d be writing it. I had one month left on my lease. But I wanted to stay longer, write my next novel here. Adam, though, hadn’t asked me to stay. The thought of leaving Fade Island saddened me beyond words, because I didn’t want a long-distance relationship.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the doorbell interrupted. “Expecting someone?” I asked.
“No,” Adam replied. “You?”
I shook my head as the buzzer sounded again, this time with insistence. Adam dropped my hand and went to answer the door with me trailing behind.
When Adam opened the door, to my surprise, there stood Helena. “Oh, Maddy, I feel so bad,” she said breathlessly as she rushed in, engulfing me in a hug. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been here for you. There’s just been so much… Never mind.”
“It’s fine, Helena,” I said. “And you’re here now.”
Helena stepped back, breaking our embrace, but keeping her hands on my elbows. “Are you OK?” Her blue eyes, looking somewhat troubled, swept my form.
“I’m fine,” I replied. “But is everything all right with you?”
“Uh.” Her hands dropped to her sides, and she glanced meaningfully to Adam. “There was, uh, something I had to look into over in Harbour Falls.” Her eyes darted to Adam’s once more, and she added, “Something to do with my mom.”
The whole exchange was odd, and I turned toward Adam, but his expression quickly morphed from worried to unreadable.
Okaaay.
I asked Helena, “You mom’s fine though, right?”
She nodded, and the subject was dropped. Everything went back to normal, and we spoke for a while longer.
After she left, Adam and I went upstairs to begin packing for our trip to California. At first he and I discussed only our plans for the trip, but then, as I tossed a pair of jeans into the open, and very overflowing, suitcase on Adam’s bed, I ventured, “Did Helena seem a little off to you?”
“She seemed fine,” he replied, maybe a little too hastily.
“Why was she looking at you like that?” I asked as I attempted to zip up my too-full suitcase.
Adam gently tugged the zipper from my hand, turning me to face him. “Maddy, you know Helena and her mom have been through a lot. Do you remember her stepdad?”
Of course I did, so I said, “Yes.”
“Helena still worries about her mom,” Adam continued. “Even though everything’s been fine since that man took off.”
I recalled how Helena’s horrible stepdad—her mom’s second husband—had skipped town one day, after years of abusive behavior toward Helena and her mother. Since Adam had been such close friends with Helena, because of Nate, I was sure he’d been privy to even more than what was common knowledge among the Harbour Falls townsfolk. It had probably been worse than everyone imagined.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” I said quietly, feeling like I’d somehow intruded.
Adam put his hands on my shoulders. “Hey,” he said, “you can ask me anything, you know this, right?” I nodded, but Adam looked sad. “Maddy, there’s so much more I want to share with you, but it’s not my story to tell.”
It made me love Adam even more to see how much he valued his friends. I couldn’t help but smile at him. “What?” he said.
“I just love you,” I replied, wrapping my arms around him.
“I love you too,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss my neck. “So what’s next?”
Something about Adam’s tone of voice, I knew he was asking something important.
Could he finally be asking about my staying?
Sucking in a breath, I dared to whispered, “What do you mean?”
Adam straightened, and his eyes met mine. “What’s next for us, Madeleine?” he replied, pulling me closer. “Where do we go from here?”
“You tell me,” I countered, lowering my gaze.
Time stood still, while I waited for Adam’s response.
Quietly he whispered, “I want you to stay. I don’t want you to leave the island. Stay for the winter at least.”
I nodded, but Adam wasn’t finished. “I never told you what my surprise was going to be the day you ended up down at the lighthouse.” Adam winced, I supposed at the memory, still fresh, of what I’d endured.
Curious to find out what he’d been planning, I said, “So what was the surprise?”
“You know the room next to my study?” Though I’d never been in it, I nodded. “Well I cleared it out a couple of weeks ago, changed some things around. That night I was going to ask you to help me get it ready…” Adam trailed off.
“Ready for what?” I asked, now more curious than ever.
Adam’s eyes, such a clear blue today, met mine. “I wanted you to have a room here all to yourself where you could write. I still do. I know you can write at the cottage, but you should have a spot for when you’re up here.”
I loved the idea, and I was touched he’d thought of it. I told him as much, and asked, “So what are you asking, Adam?”
“I want you to stay here on the island and write your book. Spend the winter here. We can spend it together, and hopefully I can convince you to stay even longer. Will you stay?””
My heart soared. “Of course I’ll stay.”
Adam walked me backward to the bed, where he pushed the suitcase off with one hand. Clothes tumbled out and to the floor, but neither of us gave it much thought. We were too engrossed in one another as we fell onto the downy comforter, quickly tossing our own clothes to join the pile on the floor.
An hour later, as we lay spent in one another’s arms, Adam asked, “What are you thinking about?” His hand toyed with my hair as I lay sprawled across his bare body.
“My next book,” I replied, lifting my head to rest my chin on his chest.
“Hmm,” he mused, eyebrow cocked. “Another mystery, I presume?”
Adam knew I’d decided not to write about the Harbour Falls Mystery, but it appeared he still expected me to pen a mystery of some sort. Crawling up so that my face was inches from his, I ran my hands through the sable locks I loved so much. “No,” I answered, “I’m thinking about writing something a little different this time.”
“Different?” Adam murmured, brushing my hair back from where it lay draped around us. “Different how?”
“I think I’m done with mysteries for a while,” I stated. “I’m going to write a love story instead.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, flipping me easily so I lay beneath him. Above me, he moved his body suggestively against mine. “And what inspired this?”
Breathless, my lips found his, showing him who—not what—had been my inspiration. Within seconds we were one, and as we moved together, I knew that no matter what kind of creative love story I came up with, it was never going to be as amazing as this one right here.
Epilogue
On a snowy afternoon in early December, Adam and I returned from California. We’d stayed longer than expected; hanging out at my house in LA, dinners with Katie and my other friends out there, and just generally sharing with Adam all of my favorite things about Los Angeles. And then we’d traveled up to San Francisco, where we spent Thanksgiving with his parents. Trina and Walker even flew out to meet us, so it turned out to be quite the Ward family holiday.
But now we were back, back on Fade Island. I was too tired to schlep down to the cottage, so I decided to spend the night at Adam’s place. In truth, we’d spent so much time together it felt weird to go our separate ways. But go our separate ways we did, because, despite my opting to stay at his place, Adam ended up getting pulled away by business, as usual. Nate had stopped by to tell him he’d missed a lot, so they’d left together to presumably get Adam up to speed.
This was how I found myself curled up in front of a roaring fire in Adam’s living room, going through a stack of mail Nate had handed to me before he’d left with Adam. Some of it was mine and some belonged to Adam, so I began the task of separating the pieces into two piles. Not surprisingly, my pile was significantly smaller.
Stifling a yawn, I continued to go through the bills, letters, even a few early Christmas cards.
Adam Ward. Adam Ward, Adam Ward,
the man sure did get a lot of mail. Finally, I reached the final item, a letter, addressed to me. When I noted the return address, despite the heat from the fire, I shivered. It was from Willow Point. And there was only one person I knew who currently resided at Willow Point, Ami.
I fought the urge to toss the envelope into the fire, but curiosity was getting the best of me. Besides, it looked innocuous enough. I couldn’t imagine what reason Ami would have for contacting me, especially since the last time I’d seen her she’d been trying to kill me. So yeah, I was a little wary. But at Willow Point Ami was receiving treatment for her mental issues. Maybe this was part of some recovery process. Offer an apology of some sort to help the person move on, that sort of thing. So without further ado, I tore the letter open.
Two photocopied newspaper pages tumbled out. Upon further inspection it appeared both were identical, and both were from the same little-known newspaper in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The one that had published the article detailing Adam’s suspicious stock trade from several years earlier that had brought him under the scrutiny of the SEC. In fact, these were exact duplicates of the one I’d found in Adam’s desk drawer.
How bizarre.
The only difference was that these were not yellowed, not originals apparently. My heart hammered in my chest. How had Ami found this article? And what would it mean that she had? God, had her ex-lover, Chelsea, told her what Adam had once done—traded on insider info? And why had Ami sent two?
I took a closer look at the two photocopied pages, put them side by side. On first glance, they appeared identical. I scanned each page furtively, awash in a feeling of queasiness. OK, same page, same edition, same date. All the surrounding articles were identical too. But it was the article detailing Adam’s stock trade from all those years ago that differed. So they weren’t identical after all. One page was an exact copy of the newspaper page I’d found in Adam’s desk drawer, the other told quite a different story.
Sure, it detailed the particulars of Adam’s fortuitous stock trade. But there was absolutely no mention of any wrongdoing. No words of suspicion, no reference to an SEC investigation. Nothing. In fact, it was actually a rather glowing write-up of Adam. More in line with the kind of thing one might expect from a small publication such as this one. So what the hell did it mean? What was going on here?
I flipped one page over and found a printed note on the back, a personal note from Ami. It read: