Harbour Falls (A Harbour Falls Mystery #1)(61)

However, no illegal activity was uncovered; so pending the discovery of any new information to the contrary, the case is now officially closed. And the young, very rich Adam Ward is now free to spend his previously frozen assets however he wishes.





Oh my Lord! Hastily I slipped the clipping back under the shiny, new paper clip that had held it and placed the file on the desk. I’d never come across any information detailing stock trades Adam had made. Since this article was nothing more than a blurb from the back pages of some little-known paper, it made sense I’d not found anything like this in my research. But I could see how the Securities Exchange Commission would become suspicious, as 18.7 million dollars was a huge amount of money to attribute to “beginner’s luck.”

And that made me wonder… Had Adam been tipped off by someone about the buyout prior to the information becoming public? That would certainly have been illegal, falling squarely into the definition of insider trading. Could this be the “illegal” thing Adam had done? Was this his big secret? It had to be! I knew it in my heart.

And had Chelsea known? It dovetailed into the timeline perfectly. Is that what she’d been blackmailing him with? The threat of going to the SEC with what she knew?



If she had gone to the SEC with solid information, the case would have been re-opened, and Adam may have had to face a jury trial. Depending on how damaging her testimony was, Adam could have been found guilty and possibly faced prison time. Without a doubt, that would have ruined his life. The article was dated right around the same time he’d gotten engaged. Coincidence? I doubted it. In fact, I knew this had to be the secret. That was why it was under lock and key.

Feeling both elated and terrified at discovering this, I shakily picked up the second item of interest, the ivory A4 envelope—the one with “Trina” written on the front in Adam’s own handwriting. I tipped the envelope, and two letters—addressed to Chelsea’s Harbourtown apartment—fell onto the desk. Both had June postmarks from only one month prior to her disappearance. Things were going from bad to worse.

Each envelope contained a short, handwritten note, both written in a feminine cursive.





The first one read:





Chelsea, I don’t know what you have on my brother, but I do know you’re going to end up ruining his life. Adam doesn’t love you. He hasn’t for a long time. You’ve become an evil person, and someday you’re going to get exactly what you deserve. –Trina





The second one, written one week later, read:





You are a bitch. I can’t believe you’re actually going to go through with this farce of a wedding. You can’t love Adam. If you did, you’d never do this to him. Call the wedding off, Chelsea, or I’ll personally make sure you’re sorry you didn’t. –Trina





With my heart in my throat, my hands would not stop shaking as I grasped the letters tightly. So Trina had been threatening Chelsea. While I was aware there’d been no love lost between those two after the incident with Chelsea and Walker, it was still disturbing to read Trina’s vitriolic words.

And how had Adam ended up with these letters in his possession? The police reports hadn’t mentioned anything about threatening letters. And surely they would have, had they known. Was Adam protecting his sister by keeping them hidden? Had she actually followed through on her threats and done something to Chelsea to prevent her from marrying Adam?

Frazzled, and with time running short, I shoved the file folder with the stock information back into the bottom of the drawer, on top of the gun, and left everything as it had been. I held onto the letters, however, placing them back into the ivory A4 envelope. I wanted those letters in my possession until more information came to light. If Trina had really done something to Chelsea, I couldn’t just sit by and allow Adam to continue to cover for her.

My head was spinning, and my pulse was racing from anxiety. I wanted to go back to my own place. I needed some time alone to think over the implications of both matters I’d discovered tonight. Clutching the envelope containing the letters, I stepped into the hall, and closed the study door behind me until I heard a soft snick.

I looked left, I looked right; the coast appeared to be clear. I hurried down the hall, through the foyer, and suddenly realized I’d left my bag in the study. And my car keys were in the bag. Damn.

So I turned around and rushed back, shouldering my way into the study’s half-open door. Odd, I thought I had closed that door. With no time to contemplate, I hurried over to where I’d dropped my bag to the floor.

But it wasn’t there.

I knelt down on the floor and checked under the desk. Nothing.



Suddenly a low, irate voice broke through the silence. “Looking for something, Madeleine?”

I rocked back onto my heels quickly, the ivory envelope containing Trina’s letters clearly visible in my left hand. I attempted to slip it under my knees and, in the process, glanced up to see Adam in the doorway. And, holy hell, did he look pissed.



He stood perfectly still, my bag dangling from his right hand. Which way had he come in? Not through the front, as I would have run right into him. And how long had he been back? Long enough to have seen me snooping around?

I bit down on my lip, hard enough to draw blood. Adam’s hard-muscled body was all the more pronounced with the way the desk lamp light fell on him. Coupled with the expression of fury on his face, I felt tiny and vulnerable from my vantage point on the floor. He dropped my bag and took three long strides, and then he stood before me.