Harbour Falls (A Harbour Falls Mystery #1)(8)

“Thanks, J.T.,” I replied, taking his outstretched hand.



Once I was on the ferry, though, I had to pry my hand away from his sweaty, too-tight grasp. J.T. shot me an indecipherable look. On the surface he was still the same friendly guy I’d once known, but there was a cold, hard glint in his eyes that hadn’t been there in the past. Confusion washed over me as I took a seat.

I watched as J.T. helped Ami onto the ferry, but he was nothing but careful and gentle with her. In that singular moment, he was exactly the same as he’d always been. Had I imagined his disdain? It’s been a long day; maybe I’m reading too much into it.



On the way back to Cove Beach, J.T. attempted to make conversation as he piloted the ferry. He asked things like: What was it like being a best-selling novelist? Like anything, there were good and bad points. Did I ever miss Maine? Not really, but I missed my dad. And did I have a boyfriend? No, not anymore.

Following the last response, he turned to me and smiled in what could only be described as a flirtatious manner. His behavior was perplexing, as we’d never been more than just friends. He proceeded to wink lazily, and I quickly averted my eyes—but not before catching the flash of anger that crossed his expression. He turned away and was silent for the rest of the ferry ride back. Shaken, I glanced over at Ami to see if she’d caught any of this bizarre exchange, but she’d dozed off.

Dusk was upon us, blue-white flashes of lightning illuminating the sky directly above Fade Island. The only sounds were the hum of the ferry motor and the sloshing of the choppy waves all around us. Damp and cold, I questioned just what in the hell I was getting myself into. In need of some kind of comfort, I leaned into Ami, like old times, and closed my eyes. But I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d stepped into the pages of one of my own novels…and that I was quickly becoming the doomed heroine.





The next day my dad helped me pack the clothes I’d brought from Los Angeles. He then followed me out to Cove Beach. Always one to think of everything, he’d planned ahead and rented out one of the garages located next to the ferry dock. “You’ll still need your car for travel over here on the mainland,” he reminded me. “This way it’ll be close.”



One thing I was especially curious about since yesterday evening was why J.T. had been piloting our return ferry. I was under the impression Jennifer and J.T.’s divorce had been less than amicable. Why would he still be involved with the Westons’ business?

To my surprise, my dad informed me that J.T. actually owned half of the ferry service operation, a condition of the divorce settlement. Maybe that was part of the reason why Jennifer was so unpleasant? It couldn’t be easy having to work every day with a man you loved who didn’t love you in return.

I may have felt a little bad for her, but I was still less than thrilled when I saw she was going to be transporting me and my father over to the island. Around the mayor, however, her demeanor was vastly different. She made small talk with my dad and even offered me a hand, albeit reluctantly, off the ferry upon reaching the dock at Fade Island.

Turning up my nose, I made a point to stare straight ahead, ignore her outstretched hand, and disembark without her assistance.

The black sedan from yesterday was parked at the dock, and as promised Ami had left it unlocked, the keys under the driver’s side floor mat. My father and I loaded my several bags and suitcases into the trunk. Our load included a big crate of bottled water and nonperishable food (mainly lots of energy bars) that my father had insisted I bring to hold me over until I had time to figure out the grocery-ordering system. I thought it unnecessary, since Ami had left detailed instructions back at the cottage, but I kept quiet. It was kind of adorable that he acted like I was moving onto a deserted island. Fade Island was isolated, but it wasn’t like it lacked civilization.

After we were buckled in, I drove up the steep grade and made the left onto Main Street. We passed the tiny enclave of businesses, as well as the two olive-green bungalows, and then traveled the paved road that snaked its way along the lushness of the west side of the island. I imagined from above it looked like a snake winding through the grass.



Unlike the day before, today the sun was shining brightly and everything glowed in the afternoon light. Bright sunlight streamed through the foliage—just beginning to change from green to gold, orange, plum—and created a kaleidoscope of light on the road. Through the breaks in the trees, the blue ocean sparkled, a jewel off in the distance.

When we reached the last cottage, my dad helped carry everything into what was to be my home for at least the next three months—or however long it took to gather the necessary research to write my next novel. Fade Island was going to be the perfect location to conduct my own little investigation. It was quiet and private. And one of the main players, if not the main player in the Harbour Falls Mystery, lived less than one mile north of my new residence. The logistics were perfect.

After settling in, I walked into the living room. My father stood quietly, intently studying one of the impressionist-style paintings adorning the wall. The play of light coming through the window accentuated his salt-and-pepper hair, and it saddened me to see there was more salt than pepper. My dad stayed fit, but he was getting older. It scared me because he was all I had. My mother had passed away when I was a very young girl, and my only sibling, a much older brother, had left for college not long after. Over the years he visited occasionally, but he had his own new life in Chicago. So, for a long time, it had just been my dad and me.