Harbour Falls (A Harbour Falls Mystery #1)(78)

“Yes.”

“And this was why you were on the phone with him?” Adam’s tone turned mocking. “Because, let me guess, he still can’t find this alleged photo. But nevertheless he had the burning need to check in with you. Surely to keep you engaged in whatever game he’s playing.”

Either Adam didn’t believe a picture of Chelsea kissing a blonde woman existed, or he was trying to downplay its significance by focusing on Jimmy and his supposed ulterior motives. Good thing I hadn’t told Adam about the cash I’d given to the kid, or he’d really have something to run with.

“He didn’t find the photo,” I softly confirmed. “But he called to tell me about something else that happened at the bar.”

Adam was starting to look quite aggravated. “Really, Maddy, I’m running out of patience here. Just tell me why you were talking to that guy?”

I took a deep breath. “You’re not going to like this.”

“No doubt,” he chuckled.

I took a deep breath. “He told me J.T. O’Brien was at Billy’s last night. He was really drunk, maybe even doing drugs.” I paused. “Wait, you do know he got out of rehab early, right?”

Adam shot me a look that said, “Are you serious?”

I still wanted an answer, so I waited and he confirmed, “Yes, I’m well aware of O’Brien’s early release.”



Of course.

“Well, anyway,” I continued, “he threatened Jimmy. That’s the bartender’s name, by the way.”

Adam shook his head. “Nice to know you’re on a first name basis with the lowlifes at Billy’s,” he chided, his voice laced with disapproval.

I bit down on my lip to keep from uttering some kind of a smartass retort. Adam was irritated enough with me. I ignored his comment and instead asked, “Do you think J.T. meant it? Do you think Jimmy is in any danger?”

“No, I’m sure your new pal will be perfectly fine.”

“Adam,” I huffed, “he’s not my new pal. He’s just trying to help me—”

“With the case,” Adam finished, sounding angry. Suddenly his hand was at my chin, urging me to meet his stormy, irate eyes. “Madeleine, you better not be planning on returning to that bar.”

I shifted in my seat, uneasy. “If a picture turns up, I want to see it,” I protested.

The storm in Adam’s eyes lingered but then abated. “You really want to know who’s in that picture with Chelsea, don’t you?” he laughed.

“I do.” I searched his face. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“I’m really not.” He sighed, dropping his hand from my chin. “Even if a picture like that exists—and I have my doubts—I certainly don’t believe it has anything to do with whatever happened to Chelsea.” He ran his hand over his face. “It was probably some random Harbourtown girl that Chelsea kissed in order to… What did you say before? Get free drinks all week?”

I nodded. “Maybe you’re right, but…”

“Just let it go,” Adam warned. “Stay away from that place. If you keep going there, you will end up in hot water, especially if O’Brien is back to frequenting the place.”

That much was true. If Jimmy did locate the photo, I’d have to make sure J.T. wasn’t around when I picked it up.

“I’ll let it go,” I lied, even though it made me feel terrible to do so.



Adam reached for my hand, and I slipped it into his grasp. He squeezed lightly, and we stayed like that—quietly lost in our own thoughts—the rest of the flight back. I didn’t know what I was doing anymore. I’d come here to investigate a cold case mystery and write a book using the facts I uncovered. But things had changed. I hadn’t planned on falling in love with the primary suspect. I also hadn’t planned on becoming friends with Helena and Trina—two other possible suspects.

I no longer cared about writing a book based on the Harbour Falls Mystery. And I couldn’t help but wonder if Adam sensed that I’d had a change of heart. It was probably the reason why he so seldom asked for details. And part of the reason why, besides having fallen in love with me, he’d divulged so many of his own secrets.

Maybe that had been his crafty plan from the start? Get close to me so that I’d never end up writing about the mystery. His mystery. My imaginative writer’s mind couldn’t help but wonder. But even if that were the case, it didn’t matter. He had a right to keep his past private. And even without Adam’s possible machinations, I was losing the desire to write about the people I’d come to care about.

On the other hand, though, I did still desperately want to solve the mystery. For the exact same reasons that I didn’t want to write about it—I cared for these people. I wanted closure for them. And, more than anything, I wanted closure for Adam. He’d lived with this mystery hanging over his head far too long. It affected everything around him, including us. I wanted Adam to be able to move forward, without the question of what had happened to his ex-fiancée haunting his life. I wanted answers for him, for me…for all of us.

Somewhere along the line, this had become intensely personal. It almost felt as if I was part of the case. And at that time, I didn’t know it, but I was about to become an integral player in my own right.