Harbour Falls (A Harbour Falls Mystery #1)(4)

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.





Chapter 2



Jennifer Weston secured the ferry to an old, weatherworn dock on the southwest side of Fade Island. A lobster boat—looking a little worse for wear—bobbed in the water a few yards away. I shot a questioning look at Ami, and she shrugged, “Probably a fisherman stopping for a cup of coffee.”

“Coffee?” I questioned. I’d expected the island to be mostly deserted this time of year. But before she had a chance to explain, Jennifer reappeared, holding her hand out to help Ami disembark.

The light mist of rain that had been falling since we’d left Cove Beach continued, but over here the wind was much fiercer. Hair lashed at my face as I stepped up the aluminum rungs to reach the dock. Jennifer waited, arms crossed. And just as she’d done on the ride over, she was glaring at me.

I didn’t appreciate her uncalled-for attitude, so I rolled my eyes at her and stepped out onto the dock unassisted. Unfortunately the wood was slippery from the rain, and I nearly lost my footing. Maybe heels weren’t such a brilliant idea today.

Jennifer’s hand shot out to steady me. But instead of a light grasp, she dug her fingers into the material of my trench coat, squeezing my upper arm. I tried to twist away, but she tightened her grip in response and leaned close to my ear, hissing, “Go back to California where you belong, Fitch, before you end up getting hurt. Or worse.”

What the—?

I wrenched my arm just as she let go and nearly fell, again. Walking forward without looking back, I mumbled “Bitch,” to myself. I also made a mental note to find out as much as I could about Jennifer Weston. All I knew was that her parents had turned the ferry business over to her years ago, before they moved down to Florida. Maybe J.T. would talk to me about her? I hadn’t seen him in years, but it was worth a try. Why had he ever married her? Little wonder they were divorced.

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.