Harbour Falls (A Harbour Falls Mystery #1)(56)

“Adam didn’t do anything to Chelsea,” I stated with conviction.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Jennifer’s eyes were black and unblinking, her voice cold. Even colder when she added, “Personally, I hope he f*cking offed the bitch.”

This was getting to be too much. Something bad was going to happen if I didn’t snap her out of this tirade. “Um, I need to get to the mainland, Jennifer,” I squeaked out in a meager attempt to diffuse her fury.

She snickered. “Of course you do. What do you think I’m going to do? Throw you overboard?” Her eyes flashed to the water as if she were considering it.

But to my relief, she returned to the pilot’s house and set the ferry back into motion. I sat back down, trembling. Maybe I should tell Adam about this incident.



The rest of the way to Cove Beach, I thought about ways I could broach the subject without having to divulge the more sordid things Jennifer had said about him—that he was playing me, that he was the enemy. Jesus. By the time we reached the dock, though, I decided it’d be best to keep quiet. I’d already sent J.T. to rehab; and I didn’t want Adam to retaliate against Jennifer, too, and make things somehow go from bad to worse.

With all that had transpired on the ferry replaying in my head, I got my car out of the garage and drove to Billy’s. Except this time, as I traveled along the two-lane state route, I kept getting the distinct impression that I was being tailed. I checked my rearview mirror. There were a few cars behind me, but when I slowed, they passed without incident. Hitting the gas I concluded I was just feeling extra paranoid due to Jennifer’s behavior on the ferry. Still, when I reached Billy’s, I parked the car directly in front of the door and practically ran into the establishment.

Jimmy was standing on a step stool behind the bar, stringing up Halloween lights. Rock music played in the background, and his head bobbed up and down with the beat as he secured the string of lights.

When Jimmy flipped a switch on the cord, a wash of orange and purple bathed the bar area. “Looks good,” I said, startling him.

“Hey.” Jimmy jumped down from his perch and folded up the step stool. “Didn’t see ya there.” He picked up an almost-spent cigarette in the ashtray behind the bar, took a drag, and stubbed it out. “What can I getcha?”

Before I could answer, movement from the back room caught my eye. Damn, I wasn’t the only customer today at Billy’s. This would make it harder to get information out of Jimmy, especially since his eyes kept darting to the back room.

“Um, a beer would be fine,” I said, and Jimmy’s attention returned to me.

As Jimmy made his way down to the cooler to retrieve my drink, I craned my neck to catch sight of the other customer. And then I wished I hadn’t.



There was no other way to describe the guy in the back as anything other than a bad-looking dude. He was huge, bigger than Nate even, maybe about the same size as Max. He had on jeans and a navy muscle shirt that showed off his bulging arms. Tattoos ran up and down his arms, but he was too far away for me to make out what they were.

I watched as he ran his hand over his closely shorn, white-blond hair and took a swig from a mug of beer. He picked up a pool cue—I guessed he was playing alone as there were balls all over the table. Suddenly he pointed the cue stick at me. “Bang,” he mouthed.

I quickly averted my eyes, ignoring him. Crap! Had he known I’d been watching him the whole time?

Jimmy returned and placed the bottle on the bar. He’d left the cap on, so I twisted it off with a huff. But he didn’t even seem to notice. It seemed my bartender-pal was distracted, as he kept glancing over at Mr. Cue Stick in the back room.

I cleared my throat. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” I asked, curious as to what was going on here.

“Nah.” Jimmy shot another furtive look to the back and then lowered his voice. “Hey, listen. I haven’t found that picture yet. And I figure that’s why you’re here. But today’s probably not a good day for you to be here—”

Before Jimmy finished, a rude voice interrupted, “Who’s the fresh meat?”

It was the guy from the back. He slammed his empty mug down on the bar, and though I kept my eyes on the bar, I felt his bore into me.

I heard Jimmy say, “Let her alone, man. She’s not lookin’ for what ’ya think she is.”

What the hell was Jimmy referring to? Drugs? No doubt.

The man laughed. “Hell, Jimmy, everyone can use a little pick-me-up from time to time.” He paused, and I reluctantly glanced over. He tapped his nose. “Isn’t that right, sweet thing?” He cocked his head to one side, examining me like a specimen. “Or maybe you’re just looking for a little tweak?”



His eyes were so dark, almost black. I couldn’t hold his stare, so I dropped my gaze. The tattoos on his right arm—screaming skulls with dark snakes writhing out of their eyes—seemed to be looking right at me. If the artwork hadn’t been so disturbing, I would have thought it beautiful in its intricacy. But as it was, I shuddered. There was something very wrong with this guy. I sensed he was still staring, so I glanced up. A shiver ran down my spine as those black eyes met mine.

I looked away, and he laughed. “I got all kinds of goodies to loosen up a tight little piece like you. You let me know if you change your pretty little mind.”